bad news and good news

Bunny wasn't going to write again so soon but she has the day off from working in the store and she is eating her lunch. she has some bad news and some good news.

start with the bad news. end on a good note.

someone hit her car again. 3.5 weeks before, a fancy woman in her brand new big car {2 miles off the lot} rear-ended Bunny when her daughter was driving her car to get it inspected. a cop saw the whole thing and the woman's insurance took care of Bunny's car.

yesterday, Bunny had to go in for a conference call at work and when she came out, there was a woman taking pictures of Bunny's car and a cop filling out a report. the cop told Bunny that the woman had hit Bunny's car trying to go into the parking space next to her; that a witness had seen the whole thing and stopped her from driving away, and had called it in to him. by the time Bunny had gotten there, it was basically a done deal. now Bunny is waiting for the police report to pop up in the computer and for her insurance company to call her.
poor Bunny's poor little car. Midnight has had a rough couple of months. she is an outlaw at the moment since she cannot get inspected until the damage is repaired. Bunny cried a lot yesterday. off and on all day. she's crying still today. she is just weary with all of life's unexpected bumps and scrapes. and right in the middle of writing this, she gets called to come in to work from 4 until close. Bunny, of course, said yes because she needs the money. she doesn't know when the next bump and/or scrape will come rushing at her and bowl her over.

she needs her Dragon so badly these days, but one of the scrapes from life took him from her and now all she has is her memories of him.

oh, how Bunny hates that concept at times. "oh, my dear, but you have your wonderful memories of your husband to cling to." tell that to someone who's drowning in sorrow. 'oh, i don't need to call someone to talk to. let me cling to my memories.'

stupid heads. Bunny wants her Dragon, and she misses him more when something bad happens to her. calling up all her lovely memories hurts her. it reminds her of what she had with him and how alone she really is. and oh, Lordy Lord how she knows he isn't going to get to come back to her loving fuzzy arms. so she does a lot of talking to Heaven up there. she does a lot of praying, just talking really to God and Mary, and to her beloved Dragon.

*Bunny looks up at the sky and waves hi to her sweetie.*

so she is dealing with this; this new car accident. she is dealing with life. and sometimes it sucks. she wants to move. she wants to be on the move. maybe get a camper and just drive around taking pictures and uploading, making millions that way; money she can survive on. she could be a little gypsy Bunny with Scotty dogs off in a cool camper off seeing places and avoiding people when she wants to. people hit Bunny's car wayyyy too much for her to want to be close to them.

now for the good news. Bunny has been asked to take over assistant managing a store of her own. she said yeah she would. it is more money. health care. and a lot more hours.

so that's it. the bad news and the good news. that's Bunny's life thus far.

missing her Dragon, getting smacked a bit by life's down, and getting lifted a tiny bit by life's ups.

"we are the music makers,

and we are the dreamers of dreams,

wandering by lone sea-breakers,

and sitting by desolate streams; -

world-losers and world-forsakers,

on whom the pale moon gleams;

yet we are the movers and shakers

of the world for ever, it seems."

~ Arthur O'Shaughnessy

fuzzy little Clown of God

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she has survived a lot and will continue to.

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

{Bunny thought it was funny that Carmen Sophia laid down beside her

to take part in her little dramatization.}

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

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

peace.

finding a way home...

i don't know how to sleep anymore. i used to know. we'd say, "you ready?" and we'd get up and do things. i would set aside sewing or my book. we would walk the dogs one last time together, either silently enjoying the night air or speaking quietly to each other. but we held hands.

we would return and i would free the dogs from their leashes while he locked up and turned off lights. we would brush teeth, etc. and then get into bed. naked. we slept naked together. well, in the winter i wore socks but otherwise..... because he was warm-blooded. he was like a furnace. so hot. i love sleeping with him. his arm around me. my head on his shoulder, my hand on his chest. his heart beating so strong under my palm. thump thump thump. bliss. safe. loved.

and it has been ripped away. he was ripped from me. as if an ax has cut my body in two.

i have suffered the loss of my mother, father, grandparents, and a child. my baby son. 19 weeks old. such pain, different grief for each relationship. after the loss of my son, i changed. i was not the same woman. and i have changed again.

for each one of those deaths, i have to tell you, my experience only, i never felt the terror that i do with the death of my husband, my beloved Dragon.

the loneliness is terrible. the isolation is terrible. people can be so terrible to you. the lack of understanding what you feel. the lack of patience as you try to explain, is so terrible.
Elizabeth Taylor was visited by Debbie Reynolds shortly before she died. Reynolds said, "She expressed how scary it was when you see that it's perhaps the end, to find a way to leave this world and go onto the next."

i have been having terrible thoughts that i fight to smother. i get angry with myself and tell myself to stop it, don't do that to yourself, but it is the white elephant in the room.

while he was gasping, choking, while he was dying, did he know? what did he know? was he scared? could he hear me? was my talking to him, did that make it worse? hearing my voice fade from his consciousness as he passed into the next life, did that hurt his soul watching himself leave me behind?

there. i wrote it. and there is more but not now. not tonight.

life is hard without him, so very hard. more than financially hard, it is emotionally hard, spiritually hard. my soul sighs for him. my hands reach up to the dark ceiling above my bed and i cry out for him. i know he would not want me sad. he never wanted me to ever be sad, but i know him, i know his mind. i know his soul. he understands my grief. he understands the anguish i feel being here without him. he would feel the same if he were here without me. he told me once, "i would go into myself and wither without you. i would howl at the moon without you. i cannot be without you."

i am not home if i am not in his arms. what is it like for him being without me on the other side?
blinding, naked, raw grief. that's where i am. two years, one month. i struggle to smile anymore. the "work smile" is easy because it is my job and above all else, i will do my job. but i walk out of the store and my smile disappears as if it had never been there. i see myself in the mirror and i look 1000 years old. my eyes look haunted by the longing i have for my husband. my beautiful, warm Dragon.

we all have to find our way through grief. i am finding my way by not finding my way. i cleave to his memory like a diver grips the anchor line when he finds it. each day right now brings with it the desolation of a life without him.

my fear is that when i die, when it is my turn to find a way to leave this world and go into the next, he will not be there waiting. somehow i will get lost again, like i am lost now. i want to be able to find my way home, into his waiting arms.
i just don't know if i know the way.

Bunny is still here.

Bunny

is drained, physically exhausted these days. so many sleepless nights of late. so many crazy, bad dreams when she does sleep. there is a living, breathing ache inside her right now that she doesn't know how to conquer. her Dragon is on her mind all the time. she just puts one foot in front of the other and keeps on going. she misses him so much that she does not know if she is normal anymore, if what she is feeling here at 2 years and a week or so can be considered the normal ravages of grief. oh, my Lordy Lord she wants her Dragon here with her.

but like in the movie, Papillion, she keeps going and tells people who do not like her or her life, and she tells her grief, "i'm still here, you bastards."

so here is the Bun at work. a little image "felt board" visual of her life at work.

the Bun stuffing her purse and her huge Tank of Tea in her locker. she has brought a pretty piece of embroidery work she has done to show her co-workers.

Bunny clocking in, perky and ready for her store's guests.

Bunny giving a pep talk to the other bunnies before they go out on the floor to hopefully be adopted and taken to new homes.

Bunny taking a break in the back. she is showing off her moonie moon moon embroidery work to

Lot's-O-Huggin' Bear, a random toy who stays in the back room.

Bunny goes back to her apartment after work and gets to work on her commission work. she is so very busy. so very sad though. Lordy, Lord Lord, she misses her Dragon. maybe if he could just fly by one night as she lays there restless in bed and put a soft little kiss on her fevered brow.

just a little peck ~ soft ~ like angel's wings.

Dragon's wings.

"i miss you, my Darling, my Darling,

with it's yearning my very heart aches.

the load that divides us weighs harder.

i shrink from the jar that it makes.

old sorrows rise up to beset me.

old doubts make my spirit their own.

oh, come through the darkness and save me,

for i am alone."

Soul Widows Spiritual Retreat ~ Nine ~ Sunday ~ Finis

this is the 9th and final posting i will make to conclude this series i have done on the Soul Widows Spiritual Retreat. i purposely ended at 9 because in numerology, 9 is sacred. it is considered the Holy Trinity times 3. it is seems to represent 9 positive characteristics: selflessness, fulfillment, completion, universality, universal understanding, interrelatedness, compassion, idealism, tolerance, forgiveness, generosity, benevolence, humanitarianism, emotionalism, and justice. these were all things spoken of to one degree or another through the weekend, so i end this series at 9.

it has also been very emotional for me to pull all this out of myself and lay it here for public consumption, far beyond the security of the tribe. 21 months milestone passed and my Dragon is still gone. i miss him and will until i, myself, pass. but in writing persistently to get this all said, of how meaningful and near-perfect this weekend was, it has helped that 21 month milestone pass without the mournful flood of tears that come on the 8/9 of each month.

Sunday dawned and i was up early. more private photos of small things that have meaning. i was ready and waiting for the last sessions that were coming. another was to join us for the day, the Fiery Fairy's partner in their counseling business, in friendship, in everything women share when they are sisters and kindred spirits. she is our veteran. she has been a widow for 21 years. there was a collective gasp. she still lived. she had survived.

there was so much to ask her. there was her story to listen to. she had fallen apart as we all had. it was good to know that this strong woman sitting with us had melted onto the floor of her life when her husband had died. we were not weak. we were normal.

the sharing was extraordinary. i listened with awe at the strength in this woman's voice. i saw the extraordinary kinship our Fiery Fairy has with this friend and business partner. they were sympatico. the set up was perfect. we had befriended and bonded with our Fiery Fairy and then here comes the, by our standards, Matriarch of Grief and Joy by the sheer number of years she has lived with sorrow. her spine is strong. her hands full of expression. her eyes, yes, there is grief etched there, but also joy and laughter. she is living, which is beyond existing which some of us are doing at this time. but we are infants compared to 21 years.

when we broke for lunch, our Matriarch of Grief and Joy and our Fiery Fairy had shown us hope.

hope was waiting for us, for me. i knew it was possible and walking out of the restaurant after lunch, the sun gave a visual to remind me. {if that had been Dragon who had not known i had stopped to take a picture, he would have asked me, "what did you see?" when i caught up to him.}

we went back to the alcove and the next exercise was to say one word, or a hyphenated word about each other. we gifted each other with a name of sorts. you read mine for everyone in the posting about The Women. and now i presented our Matriarch of Grief and Joy. it was a moving exercise. i was the last to be named and i admit i was sweating. my hands were trembling. i have been called many names, and until the name "mom," and until my Dragon, and since his death, they have all been bad. and i have accepted it silently. but did not know what words would fall from the mouths of the tribe.

i will not tell you other than to say i was overwhelmed with humbleness. they really saw something in me that was good and decent. i like the word decent better than beautiful. beauty fades with time but decency is steadfast. i cried a bit. i did not know what to do with the words other than to hold them close for a time. i never know what to do with a compliment other than to silently nod and accept.

from outside the alcove, this exercise may have seemed silly, new-agey, a tree-hugger moment, but that thought would only cross a closed mind and a shallow heart. giving someone a name is a gift. in some cultures, there is a whole ceremony involved and the tribe turns out for it. your name is all you are and all you carry with you when you die. names are important. it is how others see you. screw the machines. it is instant feedback and you will react physiologically. your heart will race as you wait. your palms will sweat. your actions are not hidden and they speak to who you are. you will be named.

at our closing, our Fiery Fairy gave us a gift of a coffee mug to remind us of Tryon, the village. she also gave us a rose from her small daughter, a fairy to be sure. as ephemeral as childhood is and the innocence that is its gift, i think our Fairy's daughter will grow to be a woman like her mother. she wanted us to have a flower. and our Fairy found roses. red roses. in the language of flowers the meaning was not lost on me, hence the tissue box beside Bunny.
i received another gift. this one from our Matriarch of Grief and Joy. she is going to be my counselor for a brief time, before she has to move at the beginning of the summer. but she will be there through the holidays, through my birthday, and his death and funeral anniversary on Valentine's Day. she is doing this for me and i am speechless. when i think "what if." what if i had not gone. what if i had stayed locked inside myself while i was there. but the smallness of the group was perfect for bringing one such as me out of herself enough to register that i was actually there.

i hope and pray that my words reach out to other widows who may be looking for something like this organization. Soul Widows is small. i believe it will grow, but i know Elizabeth and our Fiery Fairy will keep the groups small so that intimate secrets can be spoken of in safety. they will continue on the path they have chosen because there are women out there who need to cling for a time. they cannot fall so hard and then get right up. they are not immediately empowered by their loss as to move in an aggressively positive forward direction. some women have a difficult time with that transition from wife to widow. they will need a tight sisterhood. they need a clan. they will find they crave becoming part of a tribe of women who only need look at sorrowful eyes and trembling hands that think they can wring the stress away alone.

no. you cannot. alone in the world. read it again. alone. in. the. world. it sounds like the title of a Wes Craven film. horror. fear. terror. we are not alone in the world. there are many foundations and organizations out there. Soul Widows was what i needed. i needed a candle for my husband and our love. i needed Elizabeth and her gift that allowed me to come. i needed the Clown of God to push me over the wall i had built so that i could laugh without restraint. i needed to meet the Goddess Diana to see the passion for justice and know that it is right to fight for yourself and damn the world for setting it up that way. i needed to meet the Ceramic Storyteller so that i could share my own history of the Angel Cards and how i used them with my own children during bad times, and to listen to her and validate her fierce mother's heart. i needed the Disciple of Grace to steadfastly keep reminding me that it is safe to call her Friend. i needed someone like our Fiery Fairy to show me that there are counselors out there, people, women who truly care and have made it their life's work to save us; to find us and save us all if she can. and to meet the Matriarch of Grief and Joy so that i have a hand to reach out to, to see that i will be able to talk and learn, to cry and find strength, and to know that i do not have to stay silent and alone. i now have a tribe of sisters to whom i can call to.

~

this weekend, Soul Widows showed me a way towards the light. Elizabeth and our Fiery Fairy, the entire tribe helped me see that there is a light out there for me. no, it is not the headlight of the oncoming train. but even if it is, i will not face it alone.

the light for me maybe still be veiled by my stress and grief and worry and anxiety and mourning, but the warmth it offers, the freedom beyond the curtains is worth fighting for.
never give up. "improvise, adapt, overcome." the Marine Corps motto. well, one of them. my Dragon never gave up, even when he was dying. i am not giving up. i never was, but now i know that i will have a tribe to call to when i am on my knees.

my love for my Dragon is set in stone. i cannot imagine any other standing beside me as i contemplate eternity. he was a powerful life force on Earth and now that his soul is set free, oh, my.....imagine what he is feeling and doing and seeing now that his great love of adventure is free to go wherever. Heaven. the Universe. joining St. Michael the Archangel and his Warrior Gang of Fierce Angels. my Dragon would join them and their fight for us all.
i love him. i love my children. i love my sisters. i love our Fairy and our Matriarch. i had said i would never love again, but when i wrote that in the intensity of my grief i was forgetting that there are many ways to love.

thank you to Elizabeth. thank you to our Fiery Fairy. thank you to our Matriarch of Grief and Joy. thank you to all the women of the tribe who accepted me and thought good things about me, and told me so.

~~

p.s. to all who read, please note, that the colors over the words Soul Widows and Angel Cards are hyperlinks to find the website and to find the cards. the Angel Cards, mostly to make sure our Ceramic Storyteller has it.

peace to all who read. peace and light to all who grieve.

Soul Widows Spiritual Retreat ~ Five ~ Saturday ~ Meditation

i was not the first to go to her room to try for sleep, and only a widow or widower knows what i mean when i say "try" for sleep. but i did sleep in the Whimsy Room. and i woke early as is my habit. it was still dark outside and i felt cocooned in that lovely, small space. so much had gone on the day before, so much enlightenment. i wanted to quietly explore this old inn. i wanted to mull over what i had experienced on Friday, and gather my strength to face the revelations that were to come. we were going to be talking about isolation and that is a heavy subject for me.i walked downstairs and peered out the old door. dawn had arrived. so lovely. so soft. i like this time of day.
i had seen her when i first put foot on the porch, but there was a carved wooden angel i wanted to visit with. her expression is somber and it seemed she carried her own sorrows. but she is solid and firmly sitting there. she is close to the door but not beside it. she is beside the window to the alcove where we talk and laugh, and sob. i asked her if she listened to us, but she kept her silent counsel and i smiled at the wisdom of it. sometimes all you need to know is that someone is sitting there. sometimes there are no answers to the trouble. but to have a friend who comes to you in the darkness in your soul and is willing to keep vigil is enough. it made me think of the women still asleep upstairs.
i wandered down the porch to a twig bench and i sat and had my quiet communion with my beliefs. i pray. what i mean to say is, i have 4 prayers i say and i hope it does not sound rote to God and the other Holy names i speak to. but i also have a conversation. i am not a good Catholic. i wish i were. i have not found a way to the closest Catholic Church since i have lived here and i admit i am getting tired of fighting for it. so i talk to Him.

before my Dragon died, i only prayed my prayers twice a day. now, since my Dragon died, i have conversations, much like when i talked to my Dragon. i do not expect an answer, or one right away, and yet somehow, with regards to faith, i do not feel alone. and that is all i will say about faith, not religion, faith. i do not impose but in revealing with honesty about my morning meditations, i will speak to it.
as the day brightened and i heard stirrings and footfalls on the stairs inside, i sat on the steps for a self portrait in homage to the architecture, the treasures placed all about, and to nature. i love this inn. it is a refuge. it was a perfect place for a spiritual retreat.
i went inside and found my tribe smiling, talking loudly as women well acquainted will do, and the wonderful smells of a hot breakfast.

happy Halloween & the VA update

first off, i hope you enjoy the song i added for Halloween.

and now for the blog.

i do not believe in cliffhangers for the sake of having a cliffhanger so i will get right to it.

i called the VA again. i have been almost hyperventilating with panic. my claim for my Dragon's death pension has been approved. the letter is in the mail. i will not know how much i will get each month but it will be something. i know it will not be enough to pay my rent and electric and cable. i have to accept that fate. it panics me, but there it is.

when he told me, i thanked him. i think it was my voice. i was not ebullient. in fact i was shuddering on sobs. the man asked me if i was all right. i said, "yeah. i guess so. we'll see." he asked if i was in trouble. i said, "financially? definitely. emotionally? always will be. my husband is dead."

then he said, "i know, ma'am. i am so very sorry. and i'm sorry it took so long. i wish i could tell you what the letter states but i can't over the phone. but it's coming and you've been approved. it isn't enough for what he went through. he earned a hellava lot more, but it's all we can give you. i am a Force Recon Marine from the 'Nam era. i know what he went through. call us if you have any questions."

we disengaged the conversation and i just sat there. the letter is coming. i have been approved. and yet i am still frightened. i do not know how much it will be but, hey, it will be better than what i have coming in right now. i can only hope i can make it all work.

on Wednesday, Nov 3rd, i have a job interview at ...... wait for it ....... cliffhanger ..... Build-A-Bear. it is a group job interview and i still may wash out but, i got called to come in. my meager resume that reflects teaching pre-school and teaching art to K through 6th grade about 100 years ago, and then being an artist all my life seemed to not throw them off yet. so pray for me if you believe. i see that many do not {pray/believe multiple choice} anymore and i apologize for asking for prayers so intensely when i was falling apart a bit ago. it was not my intent to upset anyone or proselytize anyone into Christianity or the Roman Catholic Church. although, do i get points for Heaven if i do? sorry. i had to do that. a little joke between me and someone who "May Stop Reading Your Blog!"

i got a random email after my panicked posting of before telling me this person was going to stop reading my blog if i did not stop shoving God down everyone's throat. i did not write back, but i thought, how will your stopping reading hurt me when i did not know you read in the first place? and how is your stopping reading going to hurt me at all? "ooooo. i going to stop reading your blog." okay. so stop.

so for those who do not pray, i guess, and only if you choose to, cross your fingers for me shortly after lunch time that day. that's when the interview starts. unless crossing your fingers is somehow against some deity or ideal you cleave to. {i just wanted to see how far i could push it. i will be waiting to see if i get another email from this person, and btw, "God."}

in the meantime, the Bun has been busy. her fuzzy hands are flying all over the place on different commissions.

and the Bun is very, very excited. she goes on the Soul Widows retreat next weekend ~ the 5th - 7th. here is another link to Elizabeth's site specifically for this retreat. you can see what Bunny will be doing that weekend and at what time. sort of voyeuristically stalking the Bun.

i write for an online resource magazine and i will be posting there about the retreat. not while i am there. Bunny cannot afford that kind of technology. i will write about it when i get back, and here as well.

in the meantime, while waiting on the VA letter {whew i think/i hope/at least it is something} and waiting on the job interview, and to go to the spiritual retreat, the Bun, me, i am filling my hours embroidering, sewing, quilting, doing what i hope is a lasting legacy. and if i am only known as "CR 'heart' SR" then i will be known as "Dragon loves Bunny" and that is pretty cool.

happy Halloween everyone. i wish for you all no tricks, just treats. and hope. lots and lots of peace and hope.

why are you still here? / ivy covered brain

i have been working today without pause, music playing to soothe the muse. there are so many things on my mind, so many things i want to make. and there are so many worries pressing on my chest. with all this mulling over of thoughts in my mind, the inevitable question comes to mind. it is the one that was asked of me recently.

"why are you still here?"

why am i still here? what am i good for? my children are grown and my Dragon has died. my little dogs love me and need me, but somehow i think they would get along okay should my face turn up on a milk carton. oh, for gosh sakes, i need to make a list and have Bunny be me so you have visuals.

i can sew. i make quilts for people. i can take any article of clothing, all of them given to me, and put them together to make a quilt to offer comfort. i listen to the stories of grief from others and take them into my mind. i hold it all close so that i can design something as close to perfect as i can. and then i ask the person who died how they want the quilt to look.

okay, you caught me. i put pins in my mouth and you should NOT do that so ignore the pins in Bunny’s mouth and look at her as she eyeballs the quilt she is making for someone. she is so intent on getting it right. i do the same thing. i want every quilt to be exactly what the person who commissioned it needs it to be.

i am a good housekeeper. i keep the apartment very neat and tidy. yes, i even put my hair back to get all the tough places. i vacuum behind and underneath the furniture and, as Bunny demonstrates, i even do windows.

i can do pretty embroidery. i can do counted cross stitch but i can also draw anything for anyone on anything and embroider it for them. i can do whatever anyone wants with a needle and thread. i tie my ears back, i mean my hair, and work so hard to please. that is a good thing.

but i need to admit that while all those things are good points, and might warrant me my quota of oxygen, i do feel that what i was here for, mostly, was for him, my Dragon. he would have been alone when he died if it had not been for me being there with him. i took care of him before he died. i took care of him as he died. and i sat with his silent body after he died. i touched his beard. i smoothed his hair. and i talked to him and told him i was going to take care of him in exactly the way he had asked me to should this tragedy happen to him first.

i am with him still, now that he has gone. i will always be the Dragon’s wife. it is just something i feel very deeply. “never say never,” but how about “i know for pretty sure that this is the way it’s going to be.”

i love him and i miss him, sometimes terribly. sometimes so much so that i cannot breath. i claw at my neck and chest and have to stand up. i drop my needle and start looking for a way out. but there is no way out of not getting to grow old with him. then it hits me as a deep melancholia that crawls around inside me. it is akin to the English Ivy that people allow to grow unchecked. it curls around everything, getting longer, reaching further and further, encroaching into places one might not want it to go. my melancholia is like ivy growing inside me and i have to cut it back. i have to be diligent though, or it will, i fear, take over and cover my brain and then i will end up like a saddened old mountain man alone in his shack, muttering to himself and his dogs.

a woman just called me. M. hey, M. if you’re reading this, it was great talking to you. you interrupted, thankfully, some pretty dark musings. {pssst. i told you i had a photo of your embroidery work here.} we had a lovely conversation and it gave me the opportunity to remember and share with her something i try to keep close to the forefront of my brain that the ivy had covered up today.

my Dragon lived every single day of his life to the fullest extent. he breathed deeply every breath he took. he ate and really enjoyed the sights, tastes, and smells of his food. he watched over me and loved walking with me, seeing what i took pictures of. he loved listening to me and encouraged me to talk. oh, and he loved my laugh. he loved touching me, touching the wet sand to pull out shells and sand dollars. he loved petting the dogs. he loved helping me cull and work with our plants. and when we cuddle together to watch television or read, his fingers would stray into my hair, and he would finger comb it without even realizing it.

i am his wife and i should do no less. how a man like that could love a woman like me is beyond me but i am not going to look a gift horse in the mouth now. however i can with my limited means, i will live every day of the rest of my time here. i will work for, grab at, and beg for chances to live. he always liked that saying, “slide into home with a wealth of really great stories.” so i am going to collect all the stories of my life so that when i slide into “home” in a great cloud of dust and little rocks slinging about, i will have the most wonderful stories to tell him. he will pull me into his lap to hold me while i tell him all the things i did and wrote about and took pictures of. and when i feel his fingers absentmindedly combing my hair, i will finally feel at home. i am back with my Dragon again. it is finally going to be all right.

Bunny and Dragon snuggle up for SyFy Saturday night, the most terrifying night on television, we hope.