Christmas letters

my dearest Dragon,

it is Christmas time again.  this will be my 6th Christmas without you.  no one knows this; funny how people just assume it's "better," that it's all okay now, but it is still so very hard without you.

you loved Christmas.  it was your time to really settle back and reflect, enjoy, accept, and sigh with happiness that we were married, that you and i were us.  it was the closing of the year and you always looked to a brighter tomorrow.  always.  it was simply your nature.  and your gift to me.

what has changed since you've died?  my hair is more silver now.  i'm much thinner, by 45 pounds.  i'm overall healthier.  i do everything the doctor says with regards to my diabetes and blood pressure.  i do hurt a lot.  my knees, my feet, my hands.  also my right arm is pretty bad off but can't really do anything about it more than i am doing.  i cannot afford the time nor the financial obligation that would come with having the surgery so i live with the pain.  the pain is nothing compared to the pain of being without you.  {time has not diminished my memories of your laugh, your touch, your glance.}

 

i work very hard at a retail job.  it is demeaning at times and other times, it seems like i touch people's lives with a grace that feels nice to give.

i have a grandson that is the light of my life.  curious, joyful, innocent.  he is the best of all of us rolled into one small soul.  Christmas will be nicer with him here.  i wish you could be with us.  i know you already know him, probably met him up in Heaven right before he was born.  

our two rescue dogs, Carmen Sophia and Scootie Wootums are still with me.  we are besties.  they sleep on the bed with me.  they wait for me to come home from work.  we hang out.  i adore them.  they are my confidants, my roomies, my friends, my family as well.  and they are both getting older.  i see the slow fading starting with them.  it is going to devastate me when they pass.  i won't be able to handle it and yet somehow i will carry on but ..... such huge pieces of me are being taken.  all the "headstones along the way."

my "courage is lesser to do and dare."  i'm getting older.  creeping up on 6 years since you died in Feb. of 2009.  i don't feel as deeply as i used to but then i think maybe i feel too deeply and i cannot let it show.  i keep it hidden.  i find myself calming myself, telling myself to breathe.

i keep going. i simply keep going.  i do not want to die yet.  i want to see my grandson get older.  i want to see my son find a girl and get married.  i want to sit quiet and watch everyone.  i simply want to be a quiet part of it all.  take pictures.  smile.  keep it all inside.  cherish it.  so that maybe, just maybe, someone or something doesn't take anymore away from me.

merry Christmas, my love.  i am still married to you.  i have not taken off my rings.  i find i cannot.  i still adore you.  you still are, and ever will be, my magnificent Dragon.

love,

your Bunny.

~~

My lovely, soulful, gentle Bunny,

You are still my beautiful Bunny as much as I am still your Dragon.  I do watch over you every day.  I am the one who helps Carmen and Scootie still be able to leap up into bed beside you.  To keep you warm.  To keep you company.

Yes, I met our grandson.  He's just like you.  Everyone sees his mother in him, his great grandfather, but later on, when he's learned to talk, when he's older and interacts with his family and the world, they will all see that he is just like you.  He is gentle and an observer.  He will love animals and colors and see the world like you do; because he will look to you as much as he looks to his mother for this.  She is her mother's daughter and together, you and she will guide him and he will be a beautiful soul.  He will change the world one person at a time, just like you do.  You do not see how your kindness affects the people you meet through your job.

I wish I could be there to help ease your aches and pains.  I wish I could fix your arm.  I wish, oh how I wish I could be there with you.  But know that, as much as I can, I am with you.  You made it Christmas every day for me with your love.  

I am now and evermore your husband.  Remember my promise to you, my wedding vow?  It wasn't "till death do us part."  It was "until the sun grows cold and the stars grow old."  So look to the heavens.  The sun still burns hot and the stars are all still so very young.  You and I have Eternity.

~ Dragon

grief is not a dirty word

i haven't written in a long while for me.  i haven't known what to say though my mind is whirling with thoughts i want to express.  i've also been very busy at work and very tired at the end of each day.

a few postings ago someone left a comment saying i am clinically depressed and need to be under a doctor's care.

it scared me.  it angered me.

it scared me because i am sad at losing my husband, still, and it's been over 4 years.  i started second-guessing what i know best.  me.  i do not think i am clinically depressed.  what i am is frightened at my precarious financial position and wishing with all my heart to be with him; to be with my friend, my husband, someone i feel {felt} safe with.

depressed?  i think at some time or other we all get depressed.  and it's not for a few days.  it can be a winding road if you are going through a major life change, like the death of a loved one.   i am not clear on why there is a deadline on being over a death.  why is it so many people think there is a clear demarcation line for grieving to be over with it.

grief is not a dirty word.  i can think of other words that are worse.

my son died 31 years ago at the age of 19 weeks.  i still think about him.  i would say, yeah, i still grieve over him.  i went on to have 2 other children.  i laughed.  i cried.  i lived.  but i still think about him.  i have a little fuzzy star that hung over his crib tied to my bedpost.  it plays "Twinkle twinkle little star."  it's 31 years old.  it's stained.  tears mostly.  very old tears.  and yes, after 31 years, i will turn the tiny key to hear it play a few notes.  maybe once or twice a year.  not every night.  but, yes, i still play that little start, and tears do come to my eyes.

am i clinically depressed over his death?  no.  i am a mother who holds his memory dear and i miss him.  i miss what he could have become.  i miss.........i miss him.  i still grieve his passing.

do i need pills to balance the chemicals in my brain?  i think this person misunderstands this blog.  i think they misunderstand the freedom, the release that comes from writing.  i can be honest here, express the real feelings i have that go through my mind.  i can get it all off my chest, out of my mind.  i can expunge the poison.   

depressed?  maybe.  possible.  but a danger to myself?  no.  i know i am not.  i suffer.  i grieve for what was.  i miss him.  i need his advice, his humor, his confidence that everything will be okay; but i do not need to take pills to get over feeling this way.  why would i want to sidestep grief and the deep honor of working through it, however long it takes?

and yet, am i wrong?  i am clinically depressed?  is my analysis of my own feelings so far off base?

it angered me.  that someone would think from the few postings they may have read, that they can diagnose someone else.  how sure of themselves and yet, how can someone be that sure of themselves.  how can they truly know, just from what i've written here?  they do not see my eyes.  they do not hear the timbre of my voice.  they do not know me.  they do not see me at work, how i handle customers, babies, small children.  they do not see me as a manager of a store handling with confidence the multitude of things a manager has to do.

they do not know me and it would take a fairly confidence ego to judge someone, and then label them.  words are difficult to retract.  once they are out there.........it's like snatching air.  you can't.

there will always be people who think they understand, and understand better than you do, what you wrote about yourself, think about yourself.

what about just letting it be words that need to get out; expressions of feelings that need to be released, that should be heard.  once you shine a light on something, some shadow; once you see it for what it is and name it {i'm calling it grief.  i'm calling it worry over a difficult financial situation} then it sometimes ceases to be as frightening.  sometimes when you start to explain it to someone else, something dawns on you that might help.  an epiphany can strike and things are not as bad as they seem.  or if they are as bad, you as least can now write up a battle plan to survive it.

and sometimes a blog is just a blog.  i am a writer by nature.  i am a creative person.  i paint.  i sew.  i write.  i take photographs.  i design and make stained glass windows.  i feel deeply.  always have.  for the most part a creative soul is also a tortured soul.

i wouldn't trade who i am, who i know myself to be, what i feel, how deeply i feel, who i've known, and who i've lost - i wouldn't trade the ride i'm on for anything.

and i certainly won't numb it, hide it, mask it, or color it any less vibrantly with pills.

i'll be happy when i feel happy.  i'll feel sad when i am sad.

right now, tonight, i am melancholy.

i am strong enough to let myself feel weak.  i am strong enough to allow myself some time here and there to wallow.  i am smart enough to know that pouring out my heart and soul here is so much better than keeping it bottled up and swallowing it down with some pills and a glass of water.

i am a human being who has lost some people she has loved dearly and dearly wish had loved her more.  we all have to figure out how to deal with grief at some point in our lives.  meeting it head on and accepting the winding road, the roller coaster part of it, and the lingering reverberations of the pain death caused us is what adds the beautiful darker, cooler blues and violets to the palette of our lives.

having him, losing him at 19 weeks.  i wouldn't have missed it for the world.
marrying my Dragon.  losing him.  i wouldn't have missed it for the world.

no pills.  no fake sunshine and no false happiness.  i miss them both.

i won't get over it but i do have a handle on it.

my life.  my journey.  my way.

it's after 1 AM.  i'm going to bed now.  i will lay my head down on my pillow.  tonight, i will reach up in the darkness of my room to find a soft little star.  my fingers will find the tiny silver key in it's back and i will twist it a couple, maybe three times. a soft little song will play.  it's a song everyone knows.  very familiar.


"twinkle, twinkle little star.  how i wonder what you are?  up above the world so high.  like a diamond in the sky.  twinkle, twinkle little star.  how i wonder what you are?"

in my heart it plays:  "how i wonder how you are."

there is no pill on earth that can mask that kind of pain nor would i want it to.  he deserves to be remembered.  even after 31 years.  or another 31.
my Dragon deserves to be remembered and missed no matter how long......

the hug

there is this thing we did that i miss.

we would hug.

or more than hug, by definition, but it was a hug.

 we hugged like people imagine a hug, but we also did this one other thing,

do it this one other way.

i have had a life of being starved for human contact, for the need of being touched.

my parents did not touch us, my brother and me.  they were not affectionate people.

my grandparents would hug us, hold our hands, but our parents did not.

and oddly now that i think of it, our grandparents did not touch us in front of our parents.

my first husband hated being touched.  he hated touching me

he told me once to never touch him.  so i was very careful if we stood in close proximity.

no holding hands.  no sitting on the sofa together.  no touching.

he slept in a different bedroom and for 15+ years, i was not touched by him.

as my children grew up, i kept holding their hands, ruffling their hair, kissing their cheeks,

and hugging them.

i never wanted them to feel alone in the world.

 i never wanted them to feel worthless, or like there was something wrong with them.

there is nothing wrong with wanting a hug, or wanting to hold someone's hand.

my Dragon liked touching me.

he would hold my hand.

he would hug me.

but he would also do this one other thing.

i would lay down on the bed and he would lay down on top of me and hold me.

i would feel his big body pressing down on me.

he would nuzzle my neck and whisper in my ear,

"i love you.  you are mine and you are safe.

i will never tire of touching you.

you are my love forever and ever."

i had told him what it felt like to realize the people

who are supposed to love you to not want to touch you.

he never wanted me to feel like that again.

i feel that again.  so i close my eyes

and remember the hug.

what is wrong with me?

i do not know what is wrong with me,

but something has to be wrong.

i'm not getting with the program.

i'm not moving on.

i miss him immensely.  i wish he were here.

i wish i were stronger inside.

i wish i wasn't so scared.

i am upset with myself.

i don't know how to fix this.

i try so hard to do everything correctly;

do what is expected of me.

i am working very focused on being what i am supposed to be.

but i cannot lie.

i am not happy.

i am not content.

in fact, i am miserable.

i am scared and worried and filled with anxiety.

i am deathly worried about money,

still, 

again.

right now i have to wait 3 months for health care with this new job,

but at least i have a new job.

the pay is less but at least i will have income.

so why am i so miserable.

no, it's not bears anymore.

i sell shoes.

and if i thought they could be unreasonable about bears

they are psycho about shoes.

beyond my fears of life,

as for searching for that happiness thing i have tried to promise myself,

i am failing.

i feel numb inside.

i feel insincere when i smile.

it's tired and fake.

but i manage it for a paycheck.

i keep it all inside until i get back here.

i am failing my children though.

they want me to be happy.

i lie but they can see that i am depressed.

i am too exhausted to do anything but sleep on my days off.

8 hour shifts.  hour + drive to and from work.

i am exhausted.

and i pay my bills but i have little left over for food.

i need the left over funds for gas to get to work and meds.

what is wrong with me that i cannot get on board with this new life?

i am lonely.  i miss talking to him.

i do not have friends.  i do not have the time.

and yet, i would really like to have someone to talk to.

i cry a lot on that hour + drive to and from work.

it's a long haul and takes so much gas.

it's a lonely drive way out there, to another town.

4 towns over.

one more week of that training and then,

i will be sent to another store.

only 40 minutes away, 5 minutes further away than Northlake

where i used to work.

i hate the idea

of always finding jobs

that want me in stores

that are so freakin' far away.

i wish i could find something where i could sit down

and work and make money

and be given health care

and it's only 10 minutes away.

i read about other widows who are getting along just fine;

in fact they are thriving.

they plan trips, go out with friends, date, get married again,

set up big foundations and become renowned as humanitarians

saviors,

put on pedestals

have people come to them sobbing saying, "you've saved me."

"shown me how to live."

they take tragedy and turn it into livelihood

into something so grand and honorable

while i have done nothing but try to write away my pain

and i've gotten

nowhere.

these women are living.

they truly live.

they are thriving,

not just merely existing,

like me.

i am not living at all.  i am struggling.

i am merely trying to survive.

and i think it's too much to ask life

to let me enjoy some small part of it again.

is it the money thing?

is it the feeling of safety?

of knowing they have a place to live and friends, support around them?

is it knowing, the confidence of being able to go to get food,

any amount of food they want at any time that makes life so much more bareable?

would having those things make it more bearable to me?

would this pain i am trying to write away right now vanish were i to have

enough to live on?

am i an ungrateful wretch for wanting that?

i should just be grateful for a job

that pays and gives health care; and i am.

i should just be grateful that that is all i have.

barely enough is as good as any feast, right?

but my dreams... my fantasies....

in them i have so much more.

nothing crazy, just a small cottage by the sea.

a place for my dogs and me to be free,

and safe.

what is wrong with me that i want these things?

am i that arrogant and selfish?

freedom from worry and anxiety.

i just want to have enough to eat and be safe.

i'd like to have him back.

i'd like to have a touch more than barely enough to get by.

such an arrogant shit i am.

what is wrong with me?

Christmas

Christmas night is here.  i had my to children with me today.  my son got here on the evening of the 23rd.  spent all Christmas eve with him and my daughter, and all Christmas day.  my two babies together.  the Three Musketeers.

she left after supper to go back to her place with her husband.  he is leaving tomorrow on a plane.  hard to see him go.  so hard to see the sun set and know that this time of togetherness is over.

they are the lights of my life - fun, funny, decent, kind, sensitive, strong, protective, helpful, caring - i adore them both.  i need them so much.

i wish this Christmas would never end; that the clock had broken and we were just sitting there talking and laughing forever.

i think that that is how i will always remember them; us; laughing and talking and just being together in that moment.

the best gifts do not come in wrapping paper.  they come in cars and on airplanes and they wear clothes and they smile and talk and they call you "mom."

i wish he were here.  i miss him so much when the children return to their lives.  this "empty nest" would be a tad easier if i had his arms to turn to.  but i will cuddle down in bed with the dogs and think about one day at a time.  worry about one day.  that's all i can handle.

$12,380 is what the VA wants paid back.  it's their fault.  i wrote to them.  they admit it in their letter.  my son and daughter got together to read the letter today.  we are fighting it.  we are going to file for a waiver.  financial hardship.  can't pay that back.  not my fault if they kept sending me money.

my fingers are crossed.  i hope they see reason and let one widow just slide on by.  just let me go, please.

i wish all who read a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.  i wish all who read peace in their hearts and minds and rest for their weary spirits.

i am headed to bed to thank my lucky stars for my two children and this one Christmas that we got to have together.

i am at a loss.....

disclaimer: after i wrote all this down, i came back up here to write this. it is my disclaimer though not really a disclaimer as per the definition. i just wanted to say that i am fragile these days and if you feel moved to comment, please, please be nice. i would say be kind but sometimes kindness takes the form of censorship, criticism, you know that whole "cruel to be kind" thing. so don't be kind. be nice, because, as the expression goes, "i'm lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut."

i have all these ideas in swirling around in my head. creative ideas for sewing, writing, and yeah, sadly, photography. i have no time to do them. and right now, i have no camera.

i am at a loss as to what i am feeling. i do not know if anyone else out there is feeling or has felt this way. i will try to describe it, but forgive me if i cannot.

i feel at loose ends. for one thing, i have not been back to Church since the funeral Mass. and i am upset with myself. but i wake up Sunday mornings exhausted. right now i am fighting a bad head cold. i told myself this morning that i needed the sleep. but what about ...... you know, the religious stuff? after the life that i've had, the last thing i want to do is make God angry and watch Him give up on me. i don't want to go to Hell.

but i wish i could sleep all the time again. i need to work more here at the apartment but, God forgive me, i just want to curl up and sleep. i want to daydream, imagine i am with him again, and that our life is the one we dreamed of. i pull in and cuddle with the dogs and drink hot tea and just let myself go.

nothing appeals to me. food doesn't taste good. movies suck. books aren't holding my interest. i hurt all over. my foot is killing me. my knees hurt and crack and pop. my back and shoulders and neck ache. i want to save up for a massage but it would only be a one-time thing and, irrationally, i don't want to treat myself to something i can only have maybe once a year. i don't want to know how good it could feel and then walk out knowing i can't have it again until whenever i can afford it.

there are things i need like an eye exam and new glasses. i need a new split for my cracked bone foot. i need some labs done at the doctor's office. the time for script renewals will be approaching after the first of the year.

then there are the things i just want. silly things. ridiculous things. there is this pair of gloves i want. i want a new camera. i want this ring i saw that has two hearts and i could get mine and my Dragon's names engraved on the inside. see what i mean? stupid stuff and yet i tear the pages out of catalogs and magazines and tape them to the frig. i think, i'll save up. but crap, i need the glasses first, the lab work done, the doctor bill paid when i need the scripts. i'll need to renew my license plates tags thingys. money money money for things that suck. well, not suck but that aren't fun.

i want to go shopping. just shop a little. nothing wild and extravagant. i just want a little wiggle room for once. i will never get there no matter how hard i work.

i'm selling my Rudolph Build-A-Bear. this woman who is a frequent customer of mine came in looking for him. we're sold out. she was sad. she has Clarice but not Rudolph. she wants the set. all of a sudden i heard this person saying, "i have Rudolph. he even has the beautiful red velvet stable blanket. i'll sell him to you." that someone was me. i couldn't believe i said it but it was too late. the look of joy in her eyes......i have to sell my Rudolph to her.

and i mean of course i will. she needs it more than i do. i can't afford Clarice, too, and they are cute as a set. this woman has money. i'm sure she has a lovely home and a big Christmas tree to put them under. she deserves Rudolph more than i do. i gave her the price i paid for it. she's bringing the money next Friday to work. so i have my Rudolph sitting beside me wherever i am at the apartment until then, just spending time with him before he goes away.

stupid stuff like that makes me cry. i really like him. but $30 is $30. it's okay. time numbs pain, right? well, not all pain.

i miss my husband. i feel like he's fading from me. i sit and try to imagine feeling him near, or hearing his voice, remembering his mannerisms. it makes me cry because sometimes it is hard to do. and then i wonder if i am going insane because i'm really not supposed to be sitting there focusing on him like that. he's dead. i'm supposed to be living. but i'm so empty inside.

and when i'm not empty inside, i hurt. like over the camera, those gloves, Rudolph. see, the thing is this. i did without so much all my life but it never mattered before. with Voldemort, it was all about keeping the children safe and unaware of how bad bad was. then with my Dragon, sacrifices were easier. i had him. now that i am alone.........those gloves are really pretty. that ring is gorgeous. but i don't need another ring and the dollar store has gloves.

life is just not working out for me, or i am not being good girl and accepting my fate.

i feel out of sorts.

i am not sure how to make this work other than keep my head down and don't do anything stupid with my money or my time. i need to work every minute of every day or .........

or what? the time police will come and get me?

i feel like if i work constantly, maybe nothing terrible will happen to me. or if it does, i will know it wasn't my fault. if i stay quiet, work hard at all 3 jobs, take in as many hours as i can, save and never have fun, possibly i won't get into trouble anymore and no one will be mad at me. if i mostly keep my thoughts to myself, no one will criticize me. ridiculous thought since there will always be people who actively pursue criticizing others no matter what. they can't stop themselves.

case in point, i got screamed at by a woman at 6 AM on Black Friday because she misread her coupon and the items she wanted weren't free. extreme couponing gone wrong. a mall security guard walking by heard her and came into the store. my manager and i were standing there explaining why we could not let her walk out of the store. she had the items in her purse and we were not letting her leave. $11.73 that's all she needed to pay. but she refused claiming, in her mind, the coupon was written wrong. this woman claimed she had but out shopping since 10 PM Thursday night and this was her last stop. she had paid nothing in all that time and she wasn't going to pay for these bears. the security guard ended up calling for backup and took her into custody. we got our bears back. as she was dragged from the store she blamed me. "you fucking c*nt! why did you read the coupon? it would have all worked out! you're sending a mother to jail!" my manager was grateful. the DM stopped by and thanked me. i smiled and nodded and kept working. but i felt terrible. i prevented a theft of the store but i still felt ragged and raw.

i don't know where i am anymore. i cannot seem to let go of that woman's criticism.....that i'm not grieving. i go over it in my mind. she reminds me of my mother. my mother would do that to me. i would say i feel ill, she would say, "you're fine." i would have a fever. she'd send me to school. the school would send me home. she would say they were being too easy on me, that i had faked it. vomiting in the toilet, she would stand over me and say, "get it out and then i'm sending you back to school. you're just pretending to be sick. you're doing this to me on purpose." there were times when the nurse would just let me stay in her office so that i could rest.

i would clean my room, help with supper, take care of the dog, take out the trash, and all the myriad of other chores i had. if she found a chore i had not had time to do, like run the vacuum yet, she would accuse me of not loving her. "you're ungrateful and thankless and ugly on the inside. sure, do the fun jobs first. you're out of time now. go to your room."

she said i have issues. yeah, i do. health. financial. emotional. i've hit the trifecta of anguish.

am i grieving or am i being a child about this? is life too hard for me, or am i being too weak?

grief is defined as deep mental anguish. i think i am grieving. yes, i have issues, but i am also grieving the death of my husband who loved me. he loved me and there was power in that that overcame health issues, financial issues, and emotional issues. the dark wasn't so dark if he was there with me. it was warm and fairly safe, and i could close my eyes and feel his arms around me. i could talk to him and he never ever criticized. he loved my mind, my thoughts. he loved my words. he loved my touch. he thought my hair felt soft. he loved my dimples. he loved my eyes. he said my eyes held deep thoughts.

i write all the time about how much i love him. let me write this. he loved me back.

i am staring down the barrel of Christmas, the New Year, my birthday, then......

3 years without him.

i am at a loss........

i have no camera to take a photo of Bunny to show you how much of a loss i am at, or where that is, or what it looks like.

these tears i am shedding tonight for all i want and cannot have, for all i lost and want back, for him to hold me and make me feel alive again show that i still grieve.

if you feel comfortable responding, does anyone out there feel at a loss, still, at times? maybe it's the accumulation at present of so many little things going wrong. maybe it's the accompanying head cold. but i am at a loss at present.

not a moment goes by that i do not think about you, my handsome, beautiful Dragon.

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.

intimate thoughts

i miss him. it is not really getting any better. it is just longer between heart-wrenching crying jags.

"being in grief, it turns out, is not unlike being in love. in both states, the imagination is entirely occupied with one person … everything that touches us seems to relate back to that center; there is no other emotional life, no place outside the universe of feeling centered on the pivotal figure." ~ Mark Doty

i had always sort of wanted to wander around this place, inside as well as out. it is an old place that had its exterior done over after a huge storm one season. but i have seen photos of its insides. just a few, in the basement of the Rockport Library where the historical documents are kept. it has its secrets. i always wanted the chance to explore this place on my own. now i only dream about it.

"to live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it:
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go."
~ Mary Oliver, “In Blackwater Woods

"there is eloquence in screaming." ~ Patrick Jones

and i have screamed into my pillow quite a lot of late.

especially with this third bout of pneumonia in this year of our Lord 2011.

i need his care and comfort.

i need his hot tea.

i need his warm body to keep mine warm.

i need his cool cloths to keep my fever down.

i need his big hands to rub that stinky Vick's on my chest that he never minded doing,

so i can breathe.

when i had pneumonia while he was alive,

he would put his large, warm hand on my chest and calm my fears,

help me relax to find my breath.

he would breathe with me,

unison,

symmetry,

each inhale a little deeper than the one before.

i want him back.

3 times in 8 months is too much to do alone.

i think the worst part of this is the incessant remembering that i couldn't save him.

no one could save him.

in this day and age of commercials saying,

"i survived the widow-maker; take this pill and you can, too,"

no one could save him.

least of all me.

and he is better, handsomer, cuter, more needed by me than those actors on those commercials.

i love him best of all.

i need him most of all.

"i have ever since {he died} seemed to myself broken off from mankind; a kind of solitary wanderer in the wild of life, without any direction, or fixed point of view;

a gloomy gazer on the world to which i have little relation."

~ Samuel Johnson

i sometimes wonder how i am doing this alone and then i remember,

i don't have a choice.

they tell you, "just breathe."

easier said than ..........

anachronism

there it is. just one line up from these words. i keep dreaming of it. looking at photos of it. my world. my home. where i walked with him. where i was happy. where i had a smidgen of peace.

the most beautiful place on earth, as far as i know. which is not much. i have been very few places. can count them on one hand. i have never had the chance to travel. but i got to live here. Whale Cove. Rockport, MA. so raw and austere. so windy. so cold in the winters. so powerfully alive in the summers.

i miss it. i dream of it. i fantasize of it. all with him there.

i had a nightmare last night. horrendous. i will not sully your sensibilities with the story line. suffice to say, it was heartbreaking, blood-curdling, and one that i could not return to sleep from.

and i had no one to tell. no one i would call to tell of this dream to. i know a woman who has said i can call her. i do not. it is my fears that keep me from doing this. my fault. mea culpa. i think it stems from the fact that i keep watching people walk away from me very easily.

they are busy. they are bored. they have nothing they want from me at that time. or worse, they do not want anything more from me again because i have done all that they have asked. like a tramp i have quickly given to them all they asked for hoping they would like me.

my life has never made enough of an impression for anyone to stick by me.......except him.

i am an anachronism. i think i am a widow from the old days. i am obviously alone. obviously sad. obviously still so very much in love with my Dragon. so very much in pain. 2 1/2 years out and i still suffer so. no desires in the nether regions ~ except for missing his touch. no desires for companionship except from maybe a friend who does not want anything from me; who would listen to me talk for once.

i miss my grief friend to whom i wrote. bless her heart. her life has taken a turn for the worse so i feel terrible missing her for my own benefit, for me to be able to talk to someone. too many times i've tried to talk, to find someone to listen, but no one lasts. no one stays. no one, well, just no one for me.

i am an anachronism. the world and society and expectations of widows make me what? ashamed of myself? not really worried about myself. i just see that i am out of step. i am on my own very, very different path. i have no money. we were living to pay off debt from my divorce. i got nothing. no, that's wrong. i got my children. we gave them college. i had my Dragon and he had me.

i fell hard when he died. for many months i lay there looking up at the sky, the clouds; laying on that ground feeling each and every rock digging into my back. but i was so numb to it. i had lost my Dragon. my beloved. the only man i will ever want.

i remember a widow from that first group i met at that church. "how can you live alone? i moved into my parents' house, fortunately they live down the street, the day of the funeral. lived there for the first 18 months until i started dating again, and now i'm getting married and will move back into my house with my kids and my new husband. how can you live alone? you should date. you need to find another man so you aren't alone."

an anachronism. widows that i remember from my childhood were alone. they seldom dated again unless they were really young. really young. but my age? they were married to their dead husband's for life. no one questioned them. no one told them to get up, get back out there, and not be alone.

"date. have sex. get married again." i can't. not yet? probably never. he is it for me.

an anachronism. i remember widows who cried occasionally at church. even after years of widowhood. their other widowed friends gathered them into their arms and comforted them. no one told them they were being ridiculous. no one told them they needed to get over it. there were the nods from others who were so sympathetic to their losses. "bless her heart. they were such a lovely couple. so devoted." "bless her heart. we should send her flowers. we should invite her out to the cafeteria some afternoon for an early supper." "bless her heart."

i wish people would think of me that way. bless my heart. bless my poor, aching heart. i miss him. we were a lovely, devoted couple. bless my heart. my handsome Dragon and his odd little Bunny of a wife. such a lovely couple.

i do things. i am living a little, doing more than merely existing. i work very, very hard. i give of myself to everyone. too much of myself. i bend over backwards and lay down and let people walk on me, and then past me, and then far away from me. i struggle up and all i see is their backs, getting smaller and smaller. and then they are out of sight.

if you had known me with him, and then saw me now, you would not recognize me. i am smaller somehow. i am quieter. and that is a shocking statement as i was very quiet before. but not with him. never with him. he wouldn't let me. unless i was writing, or painting, or making stained glass, or sewing, or taking photos......you get the idea. he would not let me be afraid to speak. gently, oh, so gently, he encouraged me to talk. how? by asking questions. he'd ask. he'd engage me in conversation. never was i allowed to talk as i was with him. never have i been allowed to talk since, not as i got to do with him.

i miss him. a darkness has fallen around my life that i am getting used to. quiet life. rise and then work. and then bed. talk at the store. do not talk back at the apartment. very quiet Bunny. you only think of her as gregarious because she is such a wordsmith.
my life, i think, will be spent living on the edge of this dusk looking back at the light that was in my life when he was alive. but i am closer to the darkness than he ever allowed have happen to me. ever in his arms, i was safe; in the light; in the warmth of his love and devotion.

i am an anachronism. if widow's weeds were still worn, i would be wearing them, still, after 2 1/2 years. it's just now, people would be disgusted. not like they were before, during the dark ages, back when i was a child. that was a time when people seemed to, if they did not understand that kind of loss yet, they were still very much more forgiving of widows and their tears, and their particular kind of grief.

i miss you, Dragon. i still cry for you. i still love you. i always will because i am a widow out of step with this world. and i really do not give a flying fuck about doing anything about it.

the Dragon speaks again

i haven't spoken since December 2009. a long while by what you know as time; by what i used to understand time was. time is nothing now, except i am waiting on her. i know she wishes that. i know she deep down believes i am. she always had faith in me. always. it never wavered.

i wish she had faith in herself. what she has is the strongest sense of survival i've ever seen in a person. but surviving is not living and if anyone deserves to allow herself to feel all that she has inside her, it's my Bunny. my sweet, beautiful wife. she deserves to live with a free and peaceful spirit.

i watch her day after day. she's tired; so very tired. life is running her over time and again and i never could figure out why. but she is the poster girl for getting up and continuing on. three recent things have pissed me off and i wish i could interfere.

that mess last weekend with Voldemort. appropriate name for him. arrogance. a sense of entitlement that far exceeds his worth to this world. he needs to be reminded what he is inside. he needs to see his soul as i do. i'd like to turn him inside out and show him.

my Bunny got her lab results yesterday. it is definitely diabetes. and she cried a little. she sat for about 15 minutes holding that thin sheet of paper. she started to say something out loud, but then she looked at the urn she keeps that is surrounded by my old stuff, my old medals and knives, and the flag she got at my funeral. she was going to say something to me out loud, like she forgot i died. but i heard her. i am there with her. i can hear her before she says it. my poor Bunny. she cried harder then. not for herself but for me.

see, she worries about me. i wish i could hold her and make her feel it. but she is too deep in her grief to do that right now. she reads about others who have had "signs" and she thinks she has had two. the radio i made turn on the night after i died. i made it play "Angel," that Sarah MacLachlin song. and then the heart cloud she saw when she and our daughter crossed the border into North Carolina when she moved down there.

i was with her then. i am with her now. but she is afraid to see any signs for fear she is tricking herself with a lie. my poor Bunny. afraid she will get into trouble by believing in something that isn't real. but she does believe in love. my love. our love. she clings to that like a shipwrecked person clings to a bit of debris. she will never let go of our love.

the last thing that i wish was different, or that she hadn't overheard was at work. if anyone comes into that store who has a life crisis; heartbreakingly divorced and searching for a stuffed toy for their children, dying and family members are having that one last visit where they can record the dying person's voice, or if someone is buying a bear to put on a grave, they all go to my Bunny. she opened the door to the back room and overheard someone call her the Duchess of Death. it was meant as a joke, but my gentle Bunny was already drained from just having dealt with a woman who was in stage 4 cancer who had been given barely this summer to live. her daughter and granddaughter had filmed the whole heart ceremony. they had had this dying woman record her voice on those little sound boxes. my wife did not cry. she held up well and made it a soulful and memorable experience for that daughter and granddaughter, but it pulls something out of her each time she does it. she is exhausted.

and then she heard, Duchess of Death, and it went into her like a knife. the little group hushed up, and my wife smiled at them. but she was bleeding inside.

i wish i could have held her then. i wish i could have comforted her and let her know that the impact of being there for those people as she was, with the depth that she was, and giving of her whole absent heart as she did, was so very important and powerful. but she doesn't see it that way. she can't and probably never will. my wife is anything but vain.

she is doubting herself. she is asking about Heaven. what is it. where is it. if it even is. she does not doubt God. she doubts if she will get there. she wonders where i am. she prays for me all the time, for our son and daughter, and lastly, for herself. i wish i could reassure her. i wish she could feel me close. i wish she didn't doubt. love does conquer all. even death. her prayers are heard. her love for me and her children is so strong, her ability to empathize with others, not just feel compassion, but truly empathize, is so vast, she will find me. we will be together again.

she is so tired of struggling alone. she needs someone to talk to about all that has happened to her. she needs to sit beside someone and that someone needs to feel. that someone needs to feel anger for her and see the pain. that someone needs to look my wife in the eye and tell her what happened to her was a terrible thing. i wanted to kick that counselor in the ass who told my Bunny that her mother was nice now and to remember that rather than speak about all the bad things. that's like cementing over a wound and not letting the poison out. you have to clean the wound before you cauterize it, otherwise the infection stays. any field hospital knows that. you have to bleed before you can sew it up.

my sensitive little Bunny. she cannot stop people from hurting her. she cannot prevent some bad things f from happening to her. but if she cannot stop Voldemort from rearing his ugly head, if she has to live with always working to control her diabetes, and if she continues to be the Duchess of Death, i wish she would know this one thing.

i am waiting for her.

i have a place in mind for us for when she comes to join me. i will be the first thing she sees, even before she is fully gone from this world and only part way into this next one. this place is everything she's ever wanted.
i will be with my wife, my funny little Beach Bunny, for all her days. one day this intense sadness she feels will lessen and she will feel me beside her. she will know i walk beside her, stand with her, and sleep next to her all night long. i am with her because, to be honest, i couldn't leave her.
i may have died, but i never left.