beauty among the ruins

there is a wonderful book by Robert Clark titled "Love Among the Ruins" about two teenagers who fall in love during 1968.  the title has stuck with me for a long time and came around to my mind again shortly after my Dragon died.

and approaching 5 years, which, if you're read the previous couple of missives here, is hitting me pretty hard.

 i love my dogs....

... and my children.....

...and my grandson.

i like sewing.  i would like to get back to painting and making stained glass.  this last quilt commission to finish; which is approaching over 550 hours of work, and i will be free of the pressure of another person's judgement. my time free time off from work will be my own for the first time in 5 years.  i look very much forward to that.

this commission has been huge.  hundreds of hours.  no more compensation for my work. after asking for so much, she now says she is "strapped for money."   i have ended up resenting this commission.  i am finishing this pro bono.  *sigh*  i do not understand as i see her photographs of her and her new husband, the things they get to do, their trips.  but maybe they get those things cheaper than they appear, or they were gifts.  i do not know and should not judge.  it is my duty to finish this quilt and i will do so.

i feel like i am living among the ruins of my life:  a tiny apartment {but it's mine}, a job that takes away a lot of my soul {but i renew it everyday with thoughts of him, my children, my grandson, taking photos of the sky, etc.}, loneliness for him i can do nothing about {i talk to him though, and i talk to God}.

there is beauty among the ruins of my life.  i brought the photo up there under my blog title over from a page from Facebook; a page called Earth Porn.  it reminds me of Van Gogh's painting, "Starry Night."  i made me smile and stare at it, and come back to it.  i think it is beautiful.  had i be fortunate to be present on that day, i would have stayed outside until dark, or the clouds passed.  

there is beauty in the world in the shape of clouds and those of us left behind.

i miss my Dragon so very much.  five years is a long time to be without him.  it's a long time to sit here and know it will be longer before i hope to see him again.  five years of life among the ruins, but there is so much beauty here that i can take in and keep in my memories.

there will be a lot of tell him about when we meet. 

time

it's been awhile since i've written.  i've been busy working two stores, worrying about things, sewing the last Memory Quilt i'll ever make for a stranger, sewing for my daughter's baby who is due at Christmas, and simply trying to get by.

i got my mammogram results.  i'm good. that was nice to know.

i was supposed to have a routine colonoscopy done yesterday but ........ ,

and i truly hate to type this ...

again,

i've got pneumonia.

*very small sigh since i can't catch my breath too well at the moment*

i lay propped up in bed at night and i think too much.

i did have a dream the night before i found out how sick i was.

i dreamed i was drowning.  i was choking.

i was clutching my throat and my chest.

in my dream, this horrific dream of drowning,

i was in bed.  not in or near nor could i see 

any water.

all of it was in my lungs.

when they said that word ~ pneumonia ~ i closed my eyes and tears fell.

life is cold and aloof.

life has no emotions nor does it concern itself with individuals.

it simply is the passing of time.

people talk about how the life of a person can be measured.

mine will be measured, it seems, by the use of and number of humidifiers i go through

just so i can breathe; try to open up my lungs.

i hope my life is not measured.

i hope, when i pass, that it is me who is examined.

not my life.

me, the person me.

i saw a passage in a book.

"i am more than my wallet."

 and i am.

i am a nice person.

i am trying so hard to remember that when people are mean.

 

 the above is true.

food on the table.

i let myself get hungry.

i paid my bills and did not alert my children that i did not have enough to eat.

because i thought i could last until my next paycheck on dry cereal, toast,

and tea.

i could not.

my job has too much physical labor.

i got dizzy at work and almost passed out two days in a row.

it broke me.  i got scared.  so i called my son who sent me money for food.

until it could arrive 12 hours later {he transferred it from his account into mine}

my daughter came up with bags of food for me to eat right then.

both were so upset with me and with good reason.

i didn't ask for help.  i was too embarrassed.

but i was grateful and thankful

and promised i would never let that happen again.

they got angry because they love me and i put my health in jeopardy.

i have been contrite ever since.  ashamed i causedm the this worry.

to doubt me.  am i telling the truth about what i ate today?

i have promised them i always will.

 

i've always been drawn to the above message.

it's been in my mind for years and years.

death is the painful truth.

he isn't coming back.

i have had no signs from him or of him.

he is gone.

i have avoided the after life books for one simple reason.

i do not wish to explore it.

i do not really want to know.

my turn will come.

i will find out then.

in the meantime i have thought about the

"life is a beautiful lie"

part of that message.

what does that mean to me?

that there is no such thing as life.

it is a synonym for time.

how we spend our time is what is important.

i think life is a scientific term that allows us to distinguish

between organic and inorganic matter.

"life all the days of your life!!"

i can hear the gusto and frustration in someone's voice who feels compelled to blast someone with that quote.

"you're existing but not really living!"

they mean you're not using your time here with the joy they believe you should have.

time.

it really is all about time.

someone told me that all my creative endeavors were a wall i was building to hide behind.

they said i should try to meet someone.

i should at least date.

i smiled at them.  i felt sorry for them.

they wanted to know when i would be ready.

i said this,

"i have always been creative.  i have always had to make things.

if no one saw them, they still had to be made.

i am an artist.

it was never something i hid behind.

it is something i am.

and my Dragon loved that about me.

he never interrupted me while i was working on something.

he would sit in the same room and wait until the muse quieted and i came back to this reality."

 

 i am creative.  i am an artist.  i just have to work outside my "studio" to make money to eat.

yes, i ate 3 meals today.

i am feeling stronger.

i still cry about losing him.

i still long for him.

i ache at times.

death is the painful truth.

life is a lie.

i am not living but i am spending my time here wisely.

and i will do better because i promised my children that i will eat 3 meals a day,

or ask for help so i can do that.

my time here without him is lonely.  i am a lone goose flying the darkening skies knowing winter is coming.

and by winter i mean old age.

i hurt in my joints.  i get scared over things that didn't use to frighten me.

i struggle to leave home beyond work or visiting my daughter.

i make no plans.

"the days grow shorter, the nights grow longer;

the headstones thicken along the way,

and life grows sadder, but love grows stronger,

for those who walk with us day by day.

the tear comes quicker, the laugh comes slower;

the courage is lesser to do and dare;

and the tide of joy in the heart falls lower,

and seldom covers the reefs of care.

but all true things in the world seem truer;

and the better things on earth seem best,

and friends are dearer, as friends are fewer,

and love is all as our sun dips west.

then let us clasp hands as we walk together,

and let us speak softly in love's sweet tones,

for no man knows on the morrow whether,

we two pass on or but one alone.

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

my lovely Dragon has passed on and i am alone.

were someone to ask i would say, "yes, i am grieving."

and i simply do not understand those who do not understand that it is possible to

grieve like this.  quietly.  respectfully.  without really telling anyone how lonely i am.

i've stopped admitting it to anyone though no one really asks with the sincere intent to know.

i miss him.  i wish i could hear his voice and feel the touch of his hand.

i wish we could fly together into winter's cold days and dark nights together,

but some part of fate believed i could do this alone.

i am without my mate.

i am lost in the storm of the beautiful lie that is life.

my time is being spent being creative.

because.

it is what i do.  it is who i am.

and it passes the time.

until........ 

comfortably numb

so, as Bunny wrote, i've been reading a lot.  insomnia has been my buddy these last weeks so i've been going through books like a starving soul at a banquet.  what am i searching for?  my defense at feeling this way?  my excuse?  my justification?

"where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which i find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night.  i miss you like hell."  ~Edna St. Vincent Millay

"when you have nobody you can make a cup of tea for, when nobody needs you, that's when i think life is over."  ~ Audrey Hepburn

"loneliness is the human condition.  cultivate it.  the way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow.  never expect to outgrow loneliness.  never hope to find people who will understand you, someone to fill that space.  an intelligent, sensitive person is the exception, the very great exception.  if you expect to find people who will understand you, you will grow murderous with disappointment.  the best you'll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way."  ~ Janet Fitch, White Oleander

“the best thing for being sad," replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. that's the only thing that never fails. you may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. there is only one thing for it then — to learn. learn why the world wags and what wags it. that is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. look what a lot of things there are to learn.”~ T.H. White, The Once and Future King 

then i got this message - it's called "Messages From God," and i subscribed to it.  at times they are eerily what i need to hear.  {to anyone reading who does not believe or believes something/someone different, please do not be offended.}

it's time you remembered who you really are.

you are not your wallet, your job, your kids, your house. you are not your activities or your worries or the labels other people give you. like an actor you play these roles, and like a good actor you sometimes forget who you really are. time to wake up now, and remember that you are a being of immense power and breathtaking beauty created in the image of God.

 i have gotten comfortable with feeling down.  i have lost weight and my daughter says i am looking fantastic.  40 lbs. total so far.  i want to lose another 20 and i think i might be okay there.  the doctor is pleased.  i wish i could be.   i feel so lifeless.  i'm excited about being a grandmother.  gran'ma Bunny.  but i have this melancholy feeling all the time.  i'm neither too up nor too down.  i'm just going through life with my head down.

i feel like i'm on the outside looking in at life.  i see fun.  i hear about the fun others have.  i haven't had fun in so long.  i had fun last year when i visited my son.  this year i do not get a vacation.  i am, however, scheduling my colonoscopy, a mammogram, and pap smear.  whoopie.  i always have anxiety over medical tests.  terrified of these now.  wish i had someone to go with me.  my daughter says to call her mother-in-law to go.  i'm thinking of doing just that.

i am working on some really nice things for my daughter's baby.  boho baby things.  she's due Christmas Eve.  i'll be taking photos of these newest creative ventures and posting as i get them done.  sill working on this last quilt.  she has added more embroidery.  i have hung my head and resigned myself to probably never being done with this quilt.  i am not sure if she realizes how much work all this is.  all by hand.  it has become a burden and i am so very worn out with this one quilt.  king sized.  intricate embroidery of scenes like sunset behind a silhouette of the Golden Gate bridge - {118 hours to do that one}.  and now she wants more.  and how can i say no?  its her memory quilt.  and no one does it like i do.  all by hand.  anything you want.  any picture.  i paint with embroidery floss.

i'm up and i'm down.  i'm neither too okay nor too sad.  "i have become comfortably numb." {~ thank you, Pink Floyd.}

p.s. i've decided to take a class at a yarn shop.  i want to learn to crochet.  maybe i'll meet some nice women there.  maybe i'll find someone to talk to; to hang out with upon occasion; maybe a ~ friend?

giving myself another chance

first let me write that i read all the comments and they touched me greatly.  i won't apologize for my meltdown.  i have been under a great deal of stress.  it simply happened.  i acknowledge it, but i won't apologize for it.  i fully admit that i am fragile right now.  i am tired through and through.  it's my fault.  i am working on it.  i want to move past it.  i like unloading here.  it helps me get the poison out.  one person wrote to "screen out" the comments that hurt.  i will try to do that.  i think it will be okay to give myself another chance here.

i had always thought that blogs were for their owner's to write anything they want.  if they so choose, they can rant and rave and lift their fist to the sky to get it all out.  primal scream therapy.  but misunderstandings can come because, as someone else wrote, tone is absent.  we do not really know each other here.  i will say, though, that when i leave a comment on someone's blog, i am always greatly careful how i word things.  i would never want to confuse someone or hurt their feelings.

secondly, i got the news of benign.  they do wish to do another screening when my insurance kicks in again this summer.  i admit i cried when i was told.  and if i ever get bad news, i will tell you i will cry then, too.

i continue to sew when i have a day off.

 quilt top for my son for his birthday that is a work in progress.

 winter

 spring

 summer; and fall is up top as the new banner photo.

 i am purging my closet of his jeans.  i am making myself a kind of Memory Quilt.

and just for the fun of it, here is my little Scootie Wootums who seems to believe

that he can look into the camera lens and see me looking at him.

i continue to miss him.  i am purging my apartment of things {hence the cut up jeans quilt}.  i cleaned out a drawer and found a bunch of papers from the funeral home that handled the cremation for me.  they had a list of things that are "normal" for a grieving person.  of the 20 things on that list, i can still tick off 9 - 11 of those things on any given day. 

throughout most of the days, every day, i do my job.  i work.  i clean my apartment.  i take care of my puppies.  i go to the grocery store.  i sew.  i draw.  but i miss him.  i am lonely.  i do not feel like taking off my rings so i don't think about it.  i do not wish to date to not be lonely.  when i think about how much fun we had, the kind of person he was, how we talked, lived together, loved each other, all the things we went through; i just kinda don't want to try with anyone else.  they say you cannot compare but the terrible thing about me is that i would compare.  he was awesome and i adored him and put him up on this pedestal.  he's still there for me.  so i'm not ready.

but i am lonely.  the days are long.  the nights are long.  but before anyone can point out that everyone has long and lonely lives, that i could do something about it by dating, just know that i know that.  it doesn't ease my missing him.  i understand that being lonely is sort of my choice by living the way i do.  i see the paradox in it. 

it is what it is and i am who i am.  as i wrote at the beginning, i am not going to apologize. 
peace to all who read.  peace and light to all who grieve.

the art of grief

i've been down, really kinda scary down.  ashamed of my meager life and my little retail job.  tired of explaining that Marines don't make 6 figure salaries.  worried about my physical health.  i have a doctor's appointment about my diabetes and my broken foot and broken knee on Tuesday.

it's been three years and i miss him as much now as i did the moment he "left" me.  i remember sitting beside him in the hospital after they pronounced him gone.  i couldn't believe his body was there but he was gone.  he was gone; just gone.

i sat there holding his arm, trying to get his fingers to close around mine but it was all wrong.  he wasn't warm anymore.  and he was getting cooler.

sadly i still remember this with clarity and detail that astounds me.  but then i've always been cursed/blessed with a great capacity for memory.

i've held many jobs over my life.  when i was 16, i was a model.  i never told anyone that after i left my hometown.  but i was.  i was a little local model for a boutique.  it was my mother's idea and i always did what she told me to do.  but the one thing i have always been is an artist.  i was called a shy child, extremely withdrawn.  i wasn't really though.  i was just careful.  i never wanted to get into trouble.   when i was 7 my mother was told to get me involved in some activity after school.  i asked for art lessons.  she allowed it.  and i've never stopped being creative, artistic.

Antonin Artaud wrote:  "no one has ever written, painted, sculpted, modeled, built, or invented except to literally get out of hell."

i can tell you, from my experience, that statement is true.

i still paint.

 

footboard of my bed that i don't use but it's leaning against the wall in my hallway with books slowly building up underneath it.  so i guess it's a glorified book end.

 the headboard that i actually use as a headboard.  i also play my ocean waves sounds to try and go to sleep with.

 my shark board.  it's leaning against the wall of my bedroom on my dresser.  i love him.  such a flawless machine.

my embroidery piece that i am working on for a Memory Quilt.  it has taken me hours and hours,

and hours and hours to do this and i am still not done.  there is still so much more shading and highlighting to do.  i'll take a photo when i am done.

and of course, Bunny's clothes and her bags i wear, the way i use her as my alter ego, is all my art.

and my words.  my writing.  it builds up inside me and i have to let it out.  i have to tell someone about what i feel.  you guys are it.  you are all i have.

i am grieving still.  i get along okay.  i am fighting this slump with all that i have inside me,

which is my love for him, and my children.  i can't let them down.

and my silly little dogs.  i love them so much.

now i need to try and love myself a little bit. more than self preservation.  more than, "i'm doing it for him and my children."  i need to try and like myself.  i need to find something inside me that my mother never saw, that my father ignored, the my brother turned his back on, that my first husband turned cold towards......

i need to find something inside me that only my Dragon saw.

my children?  aw, they love me because i am their mom.  they imprinted on me and they know i would die for them.

but me?  just me by myself?  what am i worth?

i need to collect my thoughts and remember all the things my Dragon said to me when we were courting, and we were courting right up to the moment he died.

i love him.

but i need to like me, to find something in myself i am proud of.

maybe,

maybe i can be proud of my art again.

maybe i can try to pull myself out of this hell of my own creation.

get it?  i "created" my own hell?  how's that for irony?

a rumor of angels

in 1832, five years after Beethoven's death, a German critic compared the sonata to the effect on Lake Lucerne, and the interpretation became so popular that, by the end of the century, the piece was universally known as the "Moonlight Sonata." Beethoven himself had attributed the emotion of the piece to sitting at the bedside of a dear friend who had suffered an untimely death.

my beloved Dragon died on the full moon. widely known if you've read my missives before.

i had yesterday off from work and today. miraculous as i have been working week after week straight through with maybe one or two days off a month. the moon is coming full. that's it tonight up there in the big photo. the last two days i've been cleaning out files. i deleted my Dragon's email account, personal and business. there just is no need to keep them up anymore. it's not a step forward. it's just a step. maintenance of my life. i also wrote out everything my children will need to know for when i die. more maintenance of my life. making it easier to clean up after me.

in going through files, tossing things out, i found his EKG strip from the night he died. i didn't know i had it. i don't know why they thought i would want it. the strip no more verifies his death to me than the death certificate. his absence alone is enough for me.

i love him. i thought about it again when someone came into the store and casually asked when i would ever take off my rings. this man's sister had taken hers off 3 months after her husband died. she put herself on the dating websites at 6 months. she has been married and divorced twice since her husband died. it will be two years for her April 1. his off-the-cuff casual remark was, "i mean, God bless her, at least she's trying to move on." he was a customer and i had to treat this forced upon me conversation with care, but i did manage to say, "maybe the reason she's had two divorces is she is looking for her husband in every man she meets. it is possible that she is moving on in the wrong direction, or too fast."

it never ceases to amaze me how people feel they can impose their judgments upon strangers. now it has become water off a duck's back. i let it slide off me without leaving a dent. after 3 years of this, of failing at every attempt at grief groups and talking to people, i just let it go and go my own way. there's no one to really sit and talk this out with, not for any long kind of conversation, or frequent one where the whole story gets told in confidence.

parts of it are floating around out there in places where it will never come together in any significant way to help me get past it faster. so i am taking this journey sort of on my own.

"lead, kindly light, amid th'encircling gloom,

lead thou me on;

the night is dark, and i am far from home;

lead thou me on;

keep thou my feet; i do not ask to see

the distant scene - one step enough for me." ~ John Henry Neuman

i do sort of look for signs that i have help. angels. i have two cameras at my ready hand because of two angels. Sandy and Dan. i have a job i work hard at and am recognized as "Bunny" by my co-workers who have given me positive reinforcement. angels all.

i have my two fuzzy puppies who love me and need me. i am needed. two fuzzy angels.

i work very hard at my sewing. i have talent with a needle that is not common. it is appreciated by those who have asked for my work. they are angels for giving me something else to work on.

i do not worry anymore about living up to the expectations of others. i will never meet it. i need to feel comfortable. i need to feel safe. i. me. i do not have the strength to make legions happy. i do not have the desire. my strength is saved to fight the spiritual battles of my nights. and the nights that hit me during the day. i am older now and physical strength is allocated for stamina at work.

"one aspect of deep grief is loss of imagination. one cannot imagine a time when one is not in pain.

how many times have i sabotaged myself by leaping ahead of my own healing process, trying so desperately to 'feel better' that i make myself feel even worse because i have added to my primary pain the new complication of failure. in cheating myself of the necessary time to feel bad i have cheated myself of the only process that could really heal me. ultimately, the only way to get through something is to get through it - not over, under, or around it, but al the way through it. an it takes as long as it takes." ~ Alla Bozarth-Campbell, Ph.D
"not a day passes over the earth, but men and women of no note do great deeds, speak great words, and suffer noble sorrows." ~ Charles Reade

my Dragon was a great man. no one could take note of his deeds for they were done in secret. his patriotism left no mark that anyone can point to and say, "he fixed that," "he saved them," and "he helped the world." all secrets. all being pushed into a file to be forgotten forever.

he spoke great words ~ of love to me, of dreams he wanted to see fulfilled, of sweet nothings that mean everything to a woman like me.

he suffered in silence the pains in his body from living a lifetime as a warrior. his death was a sneak attack.

have there been signs from him? i don't know and i do let myself think maybe, just maybe. it could also be my guardian angel. maybe there is something else for me to do. some lasting legacy i need to finish. more quilts. more sewing. more heart ceremonies. more growing up to do. more penance for a misspent life, or.....

maybe there is more beauty for me to see: clouds, moons, grandchildren ~ graces all.

i still miss him. i still love him. i still wear my rings. i still talk to him every day. i still talk about him if someone asks, only if someone asks. my life is a lonely one without him here at night, in the dark, in bed.

i know humans can never become angels, but maybe there is an angel who represents my husband who comes in during the night to sit and watch over me. maybe that angel was the one who gave me the strength to slowly move my hand over the can, slowly open my fingers holding that strip of paper, that EKG with the little flat line all the way across it, and then turn away and not watch it fall into the trash.

"the sight of stars always sets me dreaming just as naively as those black dots on a map set me dreaming of towns and villages. why should those points of light in the firmament, i wonder, be less accessible than the dark ones on a map of France? we take a train to go to Tarascon or Rouen and we take death to go to a star." ~ Vincent Van Gogh referring to his painting, "Starry Night."

"the best thing that's ever been mine"

it's February first. whoopee. i just paid rent minus $25 dollars because they are taking my washer/dryer. it's not up to code anymore. so i will have to hand wash until i can have a day off and get to my daughter's to wash my things. *sigh* one hand of fate caresses my face and hands me $25 while the other hand slaps me hard. no more easy laundry. c'est la vie.

he is always on my mind but now, more and more and more as the days get closer to the 8th/9th. i have so much to say but i seldom write here because, well, very few ever comment to me anymore. thank you so much to the ones that do. you are the only voices i hear with regards to my grief.

possibly more read and don't know what to say, and i could put that little app on the side that lets me know who in the universe has stopped by, but i would be afraid i wouldn't see anyone there. it would hurt my feelings and i don't need my feelings hurt anymore than they already get hurt.

i've lost so many people in my life. i've met and met online so many people just through this grief journey that have turned away and left me here. i don't need to see who isn't there or never was.

there is a new playlist on Bear Radio at work. there's this song that i cannot really determine the lyrics too much but the repeating chorus is "you are the best thing that's ever been mine." it resonates with me and i find myself listening for it to come around again. when i first heard it, it snagged my heart and i was frozen for a second. now i find a little comfort in it. bittersweet. melancholy. it's haunting.
i can't believe it's almost been the end of 3 years without him. without his smiles. without his touch. without his voice. where ever he is is home. and i want to go home.

i've been very busy; working very hard. i only had 2 days off in January. busy month. nice money but i'm paid so little hourly that i bow to every hour they give me. i need them because it's never enough. my stomach is eating itself out from worry over the doctor's appointment next Tuesday before work. my stomach is eating itself with worry over what the VA will do when they get my W2. "oh, we won't be giving her anymore money now. she's on her feet." no, i'm not. i'm floundering. if they cut me off, i will have to ask my son for help. i am so scared over this.

i was asked to make a Bunny for someone at work. here she is. i've almost finished the little quilt that goes with her. i'll show you photos when it's all finished.
here is the quilt i finished recently. the widow has received it though i have not heard back from her about whether or not she or her son like it. there is a ton of embroidery in this quilt. i made 79 cents an hour on this quilt. it kills me to make so little for so much work, but i quoted her a price without knowing how much embroidery she wanted and i honor my word.
i was asked to make a Bunny for a widow in Texas. her name is Rose. she wanted flowers or clouds and the sun so i gave her both. the pants have flowers on them and the shirt has clouds and the sun.
and i took the time to make Bunny a little shirt like the one her Dragon wore. it's Marine Camo with his name embroidered over the left pocket and U.S. Marines embroidered over the right pocket. she's wearing her man's shirt at work. she honors him for me.
life scares me so much, but then so does death. will i really be reunited with him? does God want to punish me for my sometimes wicked, selfish thoughts? i am so very tired of all this. all these thoughts that i cannot stop from running through my mind. all the worries i have that i quite literally cannot do anything about. Serenity Prayer aside, my worries are about survival.

i miss him fiercely. i miss him being there to tell me it's all going to be alright. i miss him holding my hand. i miss sleeping next to him. i miss sleeping almost under him. he was so warm.

i keep thinking about what Betty White said. when she dies and goes to Heaven she hopes God says, "come in, Betty. here's Alan."

i want God to say, "come on in, Bunny. here's....." and then my Dragon interrupts God {no offense God} and says, "aww Babe, i've missed you. come on. i've found a great place by the ocean. there's a big quilt on the sand for us. let's go lay down together and let you take a nap. i know you must be tired. i've been watching over you. i know what you've been through. after your nap i'm going to show you all around. it's wonderful up here." and i look back and God and He's smiling at me, like He loves me or something, and is happy i'm finally home.

embroidery / Memory Quilts

Bunny has been so low, oh, so very low of late. worries. stress. pain. but still she lingers in this life. there is still stuff for her to do.

wisdom to impart? oh, pul-eeze. no wisdom from Bunny. Bunny just does what Bunny can. she works to live and yes, lives to work. it is all she has.

look at that soft, wistful little face? she has off today. it is good because she rests her foot up high on a Cushiony Soft Cushion of Restful Bliss. she has lingered in her 'jammies and is being, oh, so creative.

glimpses of the Memory Quilt she has been working on.
Eiffel Tower and Matterhorn and a snowboard embroidered on the quilt. lots and lots of colors and stitches.

this is the snow board Bunny embroidered that exactly matches the photograph sent to her to match. she worked so hard on this.

she also created a little ocean/island scene that she is very proud of. tons of floss. thousands of stitches. tricky fabric.

today she is working on the Porsche emblem. there is going to be the little Porsche horse in the center. Bunny is all propped up working; just working away.

she miss him, you know. she pines for her Dragon. nights are still so very hard. days at the store take her mind from her grief, but sitting there sewing, Bunny's fuzzy little mind has time to miss him. her foot aches with this sudden cold snap. owie ouch ouch. if Dragon were here, he'd tenderly rub her foot. he would stroke her soft fuzzy fur and take her into his arms and tell her this: "we'll get it fixed. i love you. you're brave, so brave. i'll find the money. we'll work it out."

so Bunny tells herself this: "he loves you still. you'll be getting, oh, so many hours as the holidays approach. you'll get on the insurance in 6 more months. just 6 more months and then you can get it fixed. he is so proud of you. he thinks you are oh, so brave. keep going. keep working. cry if you must. be patient with yourself......

because......

he loves you still."

*waves at the world* "i am still here...."

i'm still here.

i ordered the book recommended to me: Diary: Divine Mercy in My Soul by Saint Faustina. i look so very forward to spending time with that book. i need someone to speak to me while i am hurting here so much. i need some new words to hold onto. it has been a while since something touched my soul.

i am on the last embroidery work for this quilt. i will be putting the back together, then putting the quilt together in the frame to quilt it. i am feeling a little lighter about this work. it has been long and arduous, but i am proud of each stitch. hundreds of thousands of stitches of embroidery in this quilt. i will post photos of the work at some other point in time.

the holidays are coming. it means more hours at work. i am guaranteed 39 each week. i need the money. i am not going anywhere nor is anyone coming over. just work and work and cuddle with my dogs and try to find rest in sleep.

i cracked the bone in my right heel. it just split right up the inside of my heel. there is a big bulge there now. maybe in April 2012 after i get on health insurance at work i can have it "repaired." i have no idea what that will entail but it cannot entail me having any time off work or i cannot have that done. i am in a great deal of physical pain. it burns and throbs with every step i take, and when i am sitting down, too. standing at the register is a nightmare. i became nauseous today with the pain, and i was so proud of myself. no one knew.

i am still here. i have not quit. i am just treading water; no longer swimming at this time. maybe after the holidays. maybe after i get my foot fixed. maybe, maybe, maybe........

"But there is suffering in life,

and there are defeats.

No one can avoid them.

But it's better to lose some of the battles

in the struggles for your dreams

than to be defeated without ever knowing

what you're fighting for." ~ Paulo Coelho

i am fighting to survive.

i no longer think about having a "life." i no longer dream. i just want to survive until my continued existence is no longer required. all i want is to eventually come across a period of time in my life when nothing goes wrong and i feel more or less okay. that is what i am fighting for these days.

maybe my outlook will improve once i get a handle on coping with the pain of my cracked foot. it really is a bitch.

anyway, i am still out here writing to whomever is reading/listening. i am still here and i am not giving up.

Christmas Eve II ~ The Kiss, my poem, and other ramblings

i am finished with work for today. i was there for the store to open at 8 AM and put in my hours. for the first time in over a week i am back here before dark. the dogs love it. it is nice to be back before dark. i am about to start in working on another Memory Quilt, but i wanted to post my Christmas Eve poem. i think it might be a yearly thing. who knows anymore. we make plans then someone dies and it all goes awry.

the Bun is not a fan of "awry."

first, The Kiss. Bunny and i got back here and she instantly wanted out of her Christmas Elf costume. oh, wow, were those leggings hot. she put on her jeans and sweater since we are keeping the apartment temp. a little cooler to save money. we sat down to write the poem when Dragon caught the eye.

*sigh* my Dragon was a great kisser. i miss kissing him. he kissed slow and lazy. i will not go into detail, but the man had mad skills. Bunny would go all slumpy and he would rumble a deep laugh at her surrender to his kissing. {there. that was not too graphic.}

a great kiss deserves a close up.

but Bunny is alone again this Christmas. her children have other places to be. her son got teary and her daughter is militant about the length of time that she will spend at her in-laws. she will be stopping by later on Christmas Day. yea!

but for now.....

Bunny is home alone right now

with no one to see

and nowhere to go,

but Bunny has plenty to do this eve

for there's words to write

and things to sew.

it's Christmas Eve again for Bun

she's lonely and blue

and missing her love,

But God and the moon made promises

to her, that he's happy and

safe in Heaven above.

so for yet another Christmas Eve

Bunny will sigh and

Bunny may cry,

but she's willing to wait for Dragon Time

when he comes to take her

to his Home in the sky.

waiting.

i have been thinking about this word. waiting around. waiting room. this is a really nice planet. there are a lot of beautiful things here to see. lovely waterfalls. beautiful gorges. trees that seem to almost touch Heaven. the ocean so deep with fish that have lights of their own.

but now that my Dragon has gone, i find that i look at the sky often. i am reading a book someone sent me. it is titled, "Seven Choices." i am not very far into it, but one thing stood out. the woman who authored the book writes that she did not want to be defined by her grief. i have heard and read this a lot. i know a great many widow(ers)s feel this way. they do not want to be defined by the death of their spouse. i understand this. for them. i am not sure about it for me. i do not know what it means to me, or about me, or for me.

i hate the word widow, but at this point, i am more used to it. i do tell people i am my Dragon's widow if they specifically ask. i do not know if i am defined by my grief. at 22 months, i still feel it deeply though the guests who come through the store would never guess that i am even sad at all. but i have gotten off work, been driven back here, gotten inside and cried my eyes out.

i miss him. i admit i would like to have him back. i know i cannot. i know what is reality and what is wishful thinking, or wistful thinking.

i think i am a waiting kind of person. i say that at this moment in my life. i am waiting. i do not really care if anyone does not understand or scoffs at me. it is what i feel and know right now. he is my husband. he is my friend, my happiness, my life, my soul, my future.....

he is my love.

he is my Christmas.

i guess i am still grieving? deeply? actively? i do not know. what i do know is i would love for him to be here. i would love to be with him right now. i would love to not be so....... sad? down? bucking myself off the Grief-Empowerment Band Wagon? (long story ~ some other time}. i have not taken off my rings. i still have a lot of his stuff lying around with no impulse to do anything with it. it comforts me to see it, even if i have to move it aside to get to something else.

i am willing to wait. i will work and eat and walk the dogs and laugh with my children and sew for them and for others and myself. but i have this waiting feeling inside me. this world is my waiting room. i am waiting for my clock to wind down and the final chapter of my life to be written. then i fully expect my pages will be gathered up and added to the library that i like to tell myself is behind the moon. my chapters will be fitted in next to my Dragon's because our story has to end together....

with us being together....

it just has to because he and i are meant to be.

i am still having the bad dreams, but then i have off and on my whole life. i know why, but i do not know how to make them stop. the recurring dream hit me again hard last night and i wake up jarred. it feels so real when i am in it and yes, while i am there i know that it is not real, but i still run, i still get hurt, and i wake up clawing the air. there is no point in putting it in my Dream Journal. i know it by heart. i have had this dream since i was a little girl, and even after i was safe in my Dragon's arms.

the heartbreaking point is that i used to deal with it by myself. it was what it was. but now i know what it is like to wake from it held tightly and safely in my Dragon's arms. having had that, remembering how tenderly he treated me, and now having to face this alone again....... shattering. heartbreaking. yeah, all that.

it is Christmas Eve. almost time to plug in my little string of lights. i will sketch out this quilt tonight and see how far i get before i get too tired. i will have comedies on the television for light-hearted fair as the evening wears on into Santa time. then i will go to bed with my two Scotties.

and when i wake up, it will be Christmas. Christmas without my son again. Christmas without my daughter until late.

Christmas without my Dragon.

{whispered low for Bunny's benefit alone.}

i can do this. i can do this. it will be alright. i will be alright. right?