3 surgeries, 3 deaths ~ a day in the life of...

i have done nothing today but look for another job, deal with some medical issues, and been the observer of 3 deaths.

i'll talk about the job thing some other time.  i don't want to sound like i'm complaining.

i got the results of some other tests i had done.  today the doctor told me that i need 3 surgeries.  both my feet and my left knee need surgery.  i told him it will have to wait until i can have health care again.  he understood but told me the pain will get increasingly worse.  there is nothing i can do.

i went home to just sit and remind myself to breathe but i was forced to deal with 3 very small deaths that bear no import to anyone but me.  there will be no write up in any papers or anything like that.  in fact, some readers may roll their eyes.  and that's okay.  i understand that these 3 things are only important to me.

my humidifier died today.  i use it to help me breathe at night.
my toaster died today.  sometimes toast is all i have left to eat until my next paycheck.
my fish died today.  i've had him for almost 3 years.

humidifier and toaster have been solemnly removed to the dumpster.  i stood there for a moment and considered the cost of each item.  can't do it right now.  if my breathing starts to disintegrate i will sell something at the pawn shop and get me another one.  the toaster?  someday i'll get another one.

my fish, Moby Mocha Boo, has been tearfully removed from his tank and placed in a baggy of water and placed in the freezer.  i will take him to my daughter's house on my day off on Friday to be buried in her back yard.  yes, i called her.  she has fish.  3 huge tanks at her house.  3 dogs.  2 lizards.  the girl understands my love of animals.  she carries my genes for that.

i made up a song for him that i sang to him every night before i went to bed.  i have songs for Carmen Sophia and Scootie Wootums, too.  every animal i've ever owned had their own song that i made up.  it's a foolish thing to do, but i've always been a fool like that.  i sing silly songs to fill the quiet and my animals always seemed to like it.  my dogs love their songs.  Moby Mocha Boo would swim to the top of the tank when i sang his song, even if it wasn't feeding time.

and now he's gone.

i tried not to look at his eyes when i placed him in the baggy.  but before i put him in there, i took a sharpie and wrote his song on the baggy so he will have it with him when i put him in the earth.  and even though i am burying my fish in the earth, he has his water all around him.

i hope he knows how very much i love him and how soothing his swimming was to me.

Moby Mocha Boo, i love you.  you're swimmy and you're silly.

Moby Mocha Boo, i love you.  you're pretty and you're mine.

good-bye, Moby.  you were a funny, silly, very pretty little fish.

obituary

last summer i met a woman at the Church i attend. she was sitting behind me and when we made the sign of peace, i turned to extend my hand. she shook mine with both of hers. after Mass, she and i walked out together. we stood together for a moment talking and then she said, "you're a widow. so am i, 21 years."

i said, "yes, i am, 2 years 5 months."

her smile was soft. she reached out for my hand and squeezed it. "you're so early into it. would you like to go down the street to {a little restaurant} for some breakfast?"

i have been very lonely and was happy with the idea. this started a Sunday morning routine that i looked forward to all these many weeks. i told her i was 52. she told me her age: 72. she talked to me, answering questions, sharing her story while i shared mine. we had moments where we'd cry together. she was different than a friend, more like a mother whose world knowledge exceeded mine. she guided me and helped me feel a little bit okay with where i am in my grief.

she confessed that she was still grieving. after 21 years, she still had "bad days." she said she had never been to a grief counselor, that it wasn't done back in her day. you simply were expected to accept graciously, friends would rally around you for a few weeks, but then you were left to your own counsel. she said that my lack of "fence neighbors" as she called them, and being left on my own so much made us kindred spirits.

she gave me a suggestion. at 5 years out she said she had still be "suffering," as she put it; much like i have been writing of lately. she said she sat down and wrote her own obituary. she put in it all the things she had "died" of. she said it helped her clarify what her fears were, her worries, and her sorrows so she could address them individually.

so i wrote my own obituary. she liked mine and said it was poetic.

i think i am ready to share this with anyone who might still be out there reading.

Beach Bunny, little known artist and bear builder, died last night from complications of losing her soul mate, her Dragon. she was 53 years old. soft-spoken and gentle of nature, Bunny had never been the type to go down without a struggle, but in the final days of her life, she revealed an unknown side of her psyche. this hidden, fragile side to her personality came to light as a result of blow after blow from life; medical, physical, emotional, and spiritual. sadly, it all became too much for her.

her awareness of the futility of her attempts at finding any kind of a safe life after the death of her husband forced her to her knees, awash in tears. she had fought all her life against those who would crush her. all through the years of her life she had secretly clung to the belief that sometimes life saves the best until last. when she met her Dragon, all her dreams had come true, but, alas, not for long.

her time with her Dragon was all too short and he was taken from her even as she struggled to save him. in her mind, she had failed him. in her heart, she had let him die because she was too stupid to save him. this was a belief she held even all through the final moments of her death. with the heavy blows that continued to hit her after his death, her mind, heart, and spirit continued to suffer. a few days ago, one last blow came and she realized that she may never achieve any kind of peaceful co-existence with life. she was knocked to her knees, then knocked further down into the dirt. she did not have the reserves of strength to rise again. she lay there and, ultimately, the worry and stress took her last breath as its own.

as expected, no one was present to witness the passing of this gentle little spirit.

Bunny will be missed by only a very few. it is not believed that anyone will even remark upon the passing of this little soul who lived in obscurity, who tried hard to continue on in the absence of her beloved Dragon. one has to wonder what the purpose of so quiet a life; what reason there was for her being born? she suffered at the hands of so many who were supposed to love her: mother, father, brother, first husband.... violence, deaths that left unresolved issues, unanswered questions, cruelty, lies, abuse, abandonment; it created more weight that settle upon Bunny's soft little shoulders. it was a whole world of weight that finally became more than she could carry.

she staggered under the burden, fell, and could not rise. there is always a last straw, a final blow, and it came to Bunny. there was no one nearby to help her.

what epitaph can we put on little Bunny's grave? "the deeper the sorrow, the less tongue it hath." Beach Bunny has stopped talking now.

these are all things i am going to be addressing as my life continues.

i went to Mass Sunday morning. the Priest was waiting for me. he pulled me aside and told me that the widow i spent my Sunday mornings with died Saturday night of a sudden heart attack ~ just like my Dragon.

i am going to her funeral Mass tomorrow.

what obituary would i write for her?

a small, elderly woman who lived a small life made an enormous impact on a shabby little widow Bunny. two widows who had a brief time to spend together, got the chance to not be so lonely. this elderly widow took Bunny under her wing and showed her that it was alright to grieve. she told Bunny that pain is not something to be fought against, but to let its current carry you however far it will. it is something to be learned from. this elderly widow told Bunny that "grief is a grace if one looks deep into it." this great and tiny widow embraced another widow and shared her wisdom. the pew where two widows passed a Sunday morning Mass together will now seat one solitary widow again. the memory of the other widow will be greatly honored. the loss of her is staggering and will be felt forever.

Sunday before last, as we parted in the parking lot of the restaurant down from our Church, she reached out to me and held my hands together in each one of hers and said to me: "you have made me so happy. you are such a giving person. you have listened to me as no one has since my husband died. and you let me hold your hands. no one touches widows, not enough anyway. i like that you let me hold your hands. i have been so very lonely for company and God gave me you. thank you. Bless you. see you next, Sunday."

i wish to say: no, Bless you. and God keep you close. may you already be in your husband's arms again never to part. thank you for the brief time i got to have with you. i will remember all you taught me. i will look for you in the sunlight when it shines through the stained glass windows.

death of a friend // end of an era

i just received word that my Dragon's friend, the man who commented here as Brick, was killed in a shoot out with Somalia pirates. i had not heard from him in about two weeks. this was why. he was my Dragon's spotter and trusted friend. Brick would call and email to check up on me. he would tell me stories of his time with my husband. he always said that it was "Dragon's job to do the job and that it was his job to cover his six and get him home to {me}."

home for Brick had been in the Seychelles. he was part of the patrols that went out to protect the ocean from the pirates that plagued those waters. he had protected citizens and tourists with the same honor and dignity that he had when he went out with my Dragon.

now he really is Home. he is up there/out there with my Dragon. i hope they have met up and are having a good time sharing stories. i think i will try to believe that Brick is sitting around with my Dragon, keeping him company while he waits for me.

i am deeply saddened by this news. with Brick's death comes the end of an era and no more stories of my Dragon.

silence reigns.

the woman downstairs died today

the woman who lived downstairs from me died today. she was 63.

she was the first person to speak to me after i moved here, and the only one who ever has. she liked my dogs. Ms. Carmen Sophia of the Joyful Yelp and Mr. Scootie Wootums, Lord of the Dance were her special friends and she loved talking to them and petting them. it's funny. they are crazy babies for everyone, but for her, they were gentle and demure.

Memorial Day she threw pebbles at my sliders to get my attention. she could not climb stairs so she threw little stones. i went downstairs and she gave me a poppy she had gotten at the store while she had been out. she knows my Dragon is a Marine and she wanted me to know she was remembering his service. i got teary and she hugged me.

she lived alone and she died alone. she was a widow whose only child had died two years after her husband. she has a niece who lives in California. because of her infirmities she had in-home help that came twice a week to clean her apartment and get her groceries. one of them found her at noon today. i became aware of the tragedy when police cars and the fire truck and the ambulance came rushing up. the apartment manager let everyone in and then there was no more rushing about.

you can tell when the emergency is no longer an emergency by the way people act. 3 hours later i watched them take her out of her apartment for the last time. no one who loved her was standing there to keep vigil like i had done with my Dragon. i did watch from my glass sliders and whispered goodbye to her. i cried for her, but i do not know if that counts at all. she is gone and free of the limitations and pains of this life here.

i fed my dogs and walked them. her wreath for the summer season is still on her door. her welcome mat is still on the concrete outside. all is quiet. i can almost imagine she is sitting inside watching television wondering what to get herself for supper.

almost.

there are things i could say, things that are floating through my mind right now, but i am too upset about so many things to express them. i do not know what to say except this:

the woman downstairs died today, and she was a lovely soul. private and independent, still she had noticed me living upstairs alone and we kind of kept up with each other. i went and got her mail for her. if she was going to her car for a doctor's appointment and i was out with the dogs she always stopped to speak to me. this is probably not true and only my perception but it seemed she died alone and will be unremarked upon, so i wanted to let someone know that she lived near me and had been kind to me.

she died and i am sad.

her name was Carolyn.