what death takes away...

i have to be honest with myself, and since this is my place, i am going to be honest here.

i am living as a quasi-hermit.  i go to work and deal with people all through my shift.  then i turn the smile off and get myself back to my place, shut the door, and check out of life.  i haven't had time to try and find any outside for me.  i am too tired.  i hurt too much.  i sit and work on my other job.  i sit and sew for someone else.  my daughter checks in every day; my son checks in every other day.  but i see no one else.

i do not have a friend to talk to.  i have given up finding a counselor.  i have tried so many times and they all leave.  i am the common denominator so it has to be me.  i am not someone to be friends with.

and yet, at work, i can pull it off.  strangers adore me.  i make people laugh.  i relate to them and pull them out of themselves.  i can get someone to spill their secrets inside of 30 seconds and then give them a heart ceremony to remember forever, to bring them back to me at the store time and time again and ask for me.  i cannot get someone to stay in my life as a friend for longer than a couple of months.  duration?  do i wear people out?  is that what happened to my Dragon?  did he wear out?

i've hit a road block in the journey.  i need him back to talk to me.  i haven't told anyone, well, one person i told, actually told in an email.  this road block is a big deal to me and i don't know what to do with it.

my brother died.

yeah, i was once someone's sister.  and he abandoned me because i didn't have money to give him to help him pay for his twins' college tuition.  i just didn't have it and he got mad.  he stopped speaking to me.  when i lost my Dragon, he hung up on me.  almost 2 weeks ago, my sister-in-law emailed me to call her. i called.  my brother had died.  he had not wanted to have contact with me, even while knowing he was going to die.  i was not worth it.

my sister-in-law did not understand why my brother was so harsh.  she had encouraged him to get in touch with me.  she was very sorry, but, oddly enough she did not wish any further contact.  apparently she and my brother had marital troubles and she has a new boyfriend.  such is my life.

what death takes away

no man can restore.

truer words......

what death takes away, we can never have again.  we can never have answers to our questions.  we can never have an understanding of the relationship.  we can never find out what went wrong, or why, or how it could have gotten so far away from us.  and lastly, death takes away any chance at a resolution which, without that person, we may never find.

i need to talk to someone who loves me and can respond to me with clarity and logic.  my daughter called him an asshole.  my son, pretty much the same.  my Dragon would have walked over to me and embraced me while i cried.  he would have let me talk, vent, rage about the insane injustice, about the wasted years.  and then he, in that low gentle voice of his, he would have gone over why the failure was not my fault.  he would have held me and caressed my hair.  he would have let me taken the time to grieve; to talk about it over and over until i accepted that there will never be a resolution to this.

friend/grief counselor/brother ~ i wish i knew why and how i was so dispensable.

i did ask my doctor about my melancholia/depression.  he asked me some very hard questions.  he said he felt i had a healthy view of my husband's death and of my life since.  he said i was logical, rational, and taking care of myself.  i am holding down a job in which i got a promotion in record time.  he said i had a deep bond with my husband.  he said that it was not unheard of but rare enough to make people wonder at it.  he admitted to me that i probably would not ever be effervescently gleeful again, but then few people really are and to not worry.  bottom line, i do not need medication. i am handling my grief appropriately.  he said to keep writing about what moves me.  he believes it is best that i continue finding time to be creative in whatever medium i need to ~ writing, photography, sewing, etc.  i told him i always would.  i will always miss my Dragon.  it has been 3 years, 4 months.  time has not dimmed the ache.

i saw this series of pictures of a male bird trying to revive his mate.  the photographer who sat and took the pictures said the male waited beside his mate for hours crying, calling, nudging her.  hours.  the intensely interested photographer said he waited and watched.  the male finally flew away but within 20 minutes had returned and protected his mate from anyone who walked too closely to her.  the photographer wrote that he finally braved the pecking and picked up the little female and buried her at the base of a tree.  the male flew up and waited for him to finish and step away, then he flew back down to sit on the ground beside the freshly overturned dirt.  the photographer left and came back the next day.  the little bird was still there but with fresh bread crumbs having been thrown at him by passersby.  people has seen and knew what had happened.  the photographer returned everyday for two weeks.  popcorn, bread crumbs, and even a little pan of water had been left for the male bird.  everyone was trying to comfort and offer their support for the tiny creature.  he continued to sit there beside the little grave of his dead mate.  people stood and watched him, and talked.  no one had seen him fly anymore.  dogs were kept away when walking past so as not to stress him further.  finally, one day, the photographer did not see the male sitting there.  the pan of water was gone but in its place was another fresh pile of dirt that had been overturned.  a small popsicle cross was in the dirt between the two mounds.  written on it was "together forever."

the male bird stayed with his dead mate for two weeks.  that is a long time for an animal that most people claim does not have a soul, does not even have feelings, to grieve and mourn.  it was also a remarkable testament to the average, everyday person to notice something extraordinary in nature.  no one tried to get the male to move on.  they did encourage him to take care of himself.  how the male bird passed is a mystery to the photographer and now to me, and you.  but his remains were taken care of respectfully.

i don't sit beside my Dragon's urn.  i don't sit and mourn, cry, and not go out.  i work.  i laugh.  i try very hard to endear myself to strangers.  strangers are all that like me well enough.  i am fantastic, intelligent, wonderful, incredible in small doses.  but for the long haul, only my Dragon.

only my Dragon.

only my Dragon.

what death takes away..........

the further away the tides of time take me from the sound of his voice, and the warmth of his touch, i have to be honest and say, i have no earthly clue why he loved me.  and now, i never will.

mad, epic fail

a woman i never met but only knew of through someone else died this morning. she was in her late 70's. i saw what people, in the triple digits, had written on her CaringBridge page, all the plans for her funeral being presented. the family is renting a big hall to accommodate the expected crowds.

she was married to the same man for 55 years and they had started a theater group together. it has become a significant part of her area. lots of singing, barbershop quartet concerts, etc., perform there. her husband is already, i saw written, taking this terribly hard. he does not know what he will do without her.

her three children, all of her grandchildren dropped everything to be by her side as the cancer finally raged out of control a couple of weeks ago. there was round the clock sitting with her so that she was never alone. her hand was held. people came to tell her how she had impacted their lives with her singing, her theater, her outgoing ways. she was special and now that she had died, the world has lost someone so great that hundreds are already arriving to honor this woman.

it is impacting my son because he also knew this woman through his father's family. a family i used to belong to. i have sent my own private condolences.

surprise. i have been having a hard time with myself of late. well, i'm lying. i've been having a hard time with myself for the last 3 years. i lost my voice. well, that's a lie, too. i lost his voice, my Dragon's voice. i never found my voice; not in all these years. the only voice i had was the one that rose to protect my children. beyond that.....zip.

okay, that's a lie. i write. quite frankly i've written a great deal more than this tiny blogging community who finds me here knows about. i write under another name. another place. it gets positive attention. mostly. if anyone stops to read. i've also written 4 books that i have not gotten published. the handful of people who have read them are aghast. "my God, but these are incredible! you have to get these published!" that and $5 can get you a coffee at Starbucks.

what am i? what have i offered the world? is my life a mad, epic fail? who will come to my funeral? does the church still hold funerals if only 3 people come to mourn the deceased?

i am wallowing today. as you can see. please, don't find fault with me. it's a moment. only a moment in time. a lifetime. i'm struggling and sometimes struggling is ugly and dirty.

what have i accomplished? well, let's see.

i can make things. i can make beautiful, extraordinary things that no one else will take the time to, or knows how to.

a Dragon of a man once loved me. maybe he still does. i don't know about the things beyond the veil of death. i admit i am nervous to find out. what if he's moved on. what if he's found someone else, someone who's dead, and they've hit it off. hey, i'm wallowing here. it's my fear talking. no one said fear was always rational.

i have two great children, grown now and on their own. my son is doing very well. my daughter is, too. she is the one in my daily life and she puts up with me. i know she gets frustrated sometimes with my fumbling, but she is patient with me and fights hard for me. she is my pitbull and i love her.

i have two Scotties who love me. they follow me and lick my face when i cry. they annoy the hell out of me when they won't wait past 6 AM to go outside to pee. they stand over my face and lick me on the lips. can't ignore a dog licking your lips. can't try to roll over and sleep through that. nope. i've tried. and God bless'em, they always need to go. but then i work a lot of hours during the day and they wait for me. they wait and have never gone to the bathroom on the carpet. we've flown down the apartment stairs but they've never soiled the carpet.
i am well liked at work. both places. the sewing is always received with "oh, my God's," and "i am speechless," and a whole range of incredulity at my handwork. not bragging. just facts. i put my heart and soul into my sewing and it shows. at the Bear, i put my heart and soul into the guest service. i am remembered by our guests and i have return guests. i am the most requested Party Bear in our district; and pretty much overall as far as the country's stats go. got an indirect message from the CEO, you know, one of those she tells her secretary who passes to the secretary of the NorthEast Manager who passes it to the Regional Manager who passes it to the District Manager who passes to my manager. "Good job."

so what do i live for? where do i find enjoyment? i read of others who have found love again. i read of others who are buying new homes in places and starting over. i read of others who have started traveling more, to see the world for those stories they want to tell their husband or wife when they "met up again in the hereafter."

i am stuck here. i will never be able to ask for a day off work. i need the money. i will never have a home beyond this apartment, i don't think. not unless my son can help me, unless we can figure something out with a little condo/townhouse. right now, that is as lavish a dream as my Dragon coming back to me with $350 million dollars in the bank. dead dreams. all dead.

so what do i live for? what keeps me going? my children. my dogs. Bunny. i love to sew. i do like a good heart ceremony and a successful party at the Bear.

i like big storms. i like to watch them build. i like to take pictures and with the grace of two wonderful friends out there, i have two wonderful cameras. S and D, if you're still reading my blog you know who you are. huge embrace and the dream of someday coming to visit you in your respective states.
i love Christmas Mass. i love plants. i love listening to music. i love kisses from my dogs.

i love to fantasize. i don't dream anymore, but i do fantasize. the difference? a dream might come true and i am not self-abusive. i do not ever kid myself. but a fantasy? ah, a fantasy can take you anywhere. it can give you a beautiful, small, old brick and stone home over a bit of water where the dogs can lay out over the windowsill in the sunshine.
a fantasy can give you a garden, a beach to walk on,

a chance to be with my beloved again ~ for just a night,

an escape from the reality that i live every time i bring myself back from those fantasies.

i never let myself believe for one minute that i will ever have .........ever have things again. i am too blessed with what i have been allowed to have right now. it is not negative to think that way. it is self-preservation. too many things have bent the wrong way for me to ever believe i live anywhere close to a "lucky star."

and when i die? will anyone "cut {me} out in little stars and make the face of Heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun?" no. i will only be missed two people, my son and my daughter. the only one who would truly grieve over me has already died, and i have touched no one's life to the point where they would drop everything to fly in to my funeral. i simply have not made that much of an impact.

well, maybe a few children who come into the Bear to hug me on a regular basis will miss me. there will be the fallen faces, the possible lack of understanding of death, and then they will see a new furry friend on the wall and i will be forgotten.

to what or whom

do i owe this pleasure

of a long and lonely night?

ah, death, 'tis death

that took away

all the love and light.

where is he, or is he out there

is he waiting for me?

again, it's death, only death

that can show my love to me.

is my life one long, lonely event where i have touched no one's life, impacted no one enough to have earned them caring about me? and how arrogant does this sound? it sounds so much like whining to want to be a little bit important to the world at large, or to a small bit of the local community where i am. see? struggling to come to grips with the life i have been handed is very ugly. embarrassing. but, if anything, i've never not been brutally honest in writing about how i feel. grief sucks. losing him was one of the most terrible things that has ever happened to me, along with the death of my son, etc.

so is my life a mad, epic fail? when compared with the woman i wrote about at the start of this missive, yes, it is. i am a failure. no one will come to stand in the church and mourn my passing. i have touched no one like that. but as is written in the Desiderata, "do not compare yourself with others. you may become vain or bitter." so i guess in the end, 30 yeas from now, even tomorrow, it doesn't matter how popular you were, how important you were, as long as you did something with what you were given. i've sewn for people. i've comforted people. i've been nice to people. i'm a fairly decent person. i am afraid of God. i have, and do, love one man deeply. i am here for my children and my dogs. in the face of some pretty tough emotional and financial odds, i have not given up. there are things i love like books and music and memories. and i can still fantasize. i don't torture myself with dreams that can never come true.

what else do i love? i love a really good starry, starry night. and yes, the night of a full moon.