melancholia

i'm down.  i don't know why.  well, i do know why.  i saw something on the social media venue of Facebook.

sometimes they suggest or ask if you know someone based on facts you have given them.  there was a woman i knew from a long time ago.

a girl.

from grade school.  i knew her from 1st grade to 11th grade.  i flipped through her photos and saw a photograph of her standing with another girl i knew from that same time period.  they had both grown up in our town, stayed, and married brothers.  they were "sisters" as well as sisters-in-law.

there were also photographs of them standing with their husbands.  and it hit me.

these two girls i had grown up with were family.  they had known each other for over 50 years.  friends.  family.  sisters.  they have roots in the town they grew up in.  homes.  lives.  everything so familiar.  so comforting.  home.

they were still home.  they had created their own homes at home.

they looked so happy.  of course i have no way of knowing if they truly are happy; if they have longings or wistful dreams of having done something else.  but in those one or two photographs i saw a sense of family and community and deep commitment to a place, land, people, town, to each other as a family that i have never known.

and it has brought me down.  i look at my life and do not see any security.  i had to move so many times for various reasons. 

me.  whose only childhood dream was of a forever home where i could be part of a church, a town, have lifelong neighbors and friends.  a little house where i lived and loved and raised my family.  a marriage where i was loved and loved. 

well, i got the love part right here at the end of my dragon's life.  such a brief time so late.  but i cherish it.  and i miss it.  i miss it so much that i ache.

i miss his holding me.  i miss his laugh.  i miss just knowing he is there.  because he's not there.

he was home.  no matter where we had to move, (and even in this marriage we had to move) i was home with him.

home.  it is such a strong word.

there is a back story to all this that i will never tell anyone.  it is a secret that haunts me and keeps me close to the darkness, too close.  things have happened to me throughout my life that i wish i could part with, share with someone; but i can't. 

home.  i wish he were here to hold me and make me feel like i was home.

i will work through this but that is all.  i am the creation; i am what is left due to all the things that have happened to me. 

i guess we all are.

beauty among the ruins

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

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

 i love my dogs....

... and my children.....

...and my grandson.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

time

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

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

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

and i truly hate to type this ...

again,

i've got pneumonia.

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

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

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

i dreamed i was drowning.  i was choking.

i was clutching my throat and my chest.

in my dream, this horrific dream of drowning,

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

any water.

all of it was in my lungs.

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

life is cold and aloof.

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

it simply is the passing of time.

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

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

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

i hope my life is not measured.

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

not my life.

me, the person me.

i saw a passage in a book.

"i am more than my wallet."

 and i am.

i am a nice person.

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

 

 the above is true.

food on the table.

i let myself get hungry.

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

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

and tea.

i could not.

my job has too much physical labor.

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

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

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

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

both were so upset with me and with good reason.

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

but i was grateful and thankful

and promised i would never let that happen again.

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

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

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

i have promised them i always will.

 

i've always been drawn to the above message.

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

death is the painful truth.

he isn't coming back.

i have had no signs from him or of him.

he is gone.

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

i do not wish to explore it.

i do not really want to know.

my turn will come.

i will find out then.

in the meantime i have thought about the

"life is a beautiful lie"

part of that message.

what does that mean to me?

that there is no such thing as life.

it is a synonym for time.

how we spend our time is what is important.

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

between organic and inorganic matter.

"life all the days of your life!!"

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

"you're existing but not really living!"

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

time.

it really is all about time.

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

they said i should try to meet someone.

i should at least date.

i smiled at them.  i felt sorry for them.

they wanted to know when i would be ready.

i said this,

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

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

i am an artist.

it was never something i hid behind.

it is something i am.

and my Dragon loved that about me.

he never interrupted me while i was working on something.

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

 

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

yes, i ate 3 meals today.

i am feeling stronger.

i still cry about losing him.

i still long for him.

i ache at times.

death is the painful truth.

life is a lie.

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

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

or ask for help so i can do that.

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

and by winter i mean old age.

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

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

i make no plans.

"the days grow shorter, the nights grow longer;

the headstones thicken along the way,

and life grows sadder, but love grows stronger,

for those who walk with us day by day.

the tear comes quicker, the laugh comes slower;

the courage is lesser to do and dare;

and the tide of joy in the heart falls lower,

and seldom covers the reefs of care.

but all true things in the world seem truer;

and the better things on earth seem best,

and friends are dearer, as friends are fewer,

and love is all as our sun dips west.

then let us clasp hands as we walk together,

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

for no man knows on the morrow whether,

we two pass on or but one alone.

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

my lovely Dragon has passed on and i am alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

i am without my mate.

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

my time is being spent being creative.

because.

it is what i do.  it is who i am.

and it passes the time.

until........ 

boho baby

Bunny's been working for her new grandbaby that's coming; her little Boho Baby.

here are some pictures.

Baby Blocks!!

 there are little bells inside.

 Prayer flags.  some are finished.  some are not.  this is not all of them.

 

 mobile.  i went to Goodwill and bought an old lampshade for $2.  i used my Dragon's jeans to wrap the top and bottom.  yarn to wrap around the entire body of the shade.  i used scrap fabric for the dangling fish.  i bought little cards and wrote nice little sayings inside.

i miss my Dragon.  i wish he were here for this.  he would have loved this time in our lives.  grandma Bunny.  grandpa Dragon.  it would have been so cool.

Bunny update and a letter to Dragon

i think i promised a Bunny update.  well, here it is.

first off, Bunny is still working full time at that new place.  {psssst.  she doesn't like it but it's a job

and she is grateful to have it.}  But the Bun doesn't make enough.  she is working for much less and driving much further and she isn't making ends meet.  she had given up on the luxury of enough food so she is going to try and sell Mary Kay cosmetics.  she is doing it with her daughter so both girls are trying their best to be pretty and invite women they meet to free facials in hopes of selling to them.

Bunny is trying to find people for her first party.  her daughter already did one and made $300 that evening.  Bunny's fingers are crossed.  oh, and if anyone here is interested, Bunny is getting her Mary Kay website up soon and will post it here.  it really is a good product and Bunny would love to take orders.  {yes, she knows.  she is selling here on her blog.  Bunny isn't above screaming for help.}

 Bunny has a friend that she got on her last day at her old store, the bear store.  it's a little white Scottie.  yes, she knows most people will think, "oh, a Westie," but Bunny says, "nope.  she's a Scottie."  her name is Snowball and Bunny loves her very much.  they watch Netflix together.

 Bunny drives her around the apartment in her car, and lets Snowball toot the horn.

 Bunny sews, and sews, and sews.  and Bunny keeps company with her Dragon.

she misses him a lot.  a whole lot.  in fact, Bunny has had some moments where her self-doubt has gotten the better of her and she has wondered if her Dragon would even know her anymore.  she has changed so much.

she has wondered if he would still love her.  she has lost so much weight.  she looks so sad sometimes.  she doesn't smile when she isn't around people.  she talks softly to her Scottie babies.  but she doesn't ever go out, except to work.

she thinks about her Dragon a lot and wonders if he is alright.

my dearest Dragon,

how are you?  i know that sounds like a ridiculous way to start a letter to someone who has died, and been dead for over 4 years, but i really want to know.  what is it like?  what do you feel?  do you feel?  can you see me?  i hope, if you can, that you don't look in on me at all because i have changed.  i am so far from who i was when i was with you.  i feel lost out here in a storm that continues to build.

i lost my store.  it closed and i am at a store that is so vastly different.  the boss there is a bully.  she is verbally abusive and we have been unable to get upper management to even acknowledge it.  the humiliation is hard to take.  the pressure, the denigration, it is embarrassing in front of customers.  the constant threats of being fired.  the unreasonable physical demands, it is taking it's toll on me.  i am looking for another job, but i have started with Mary Kay.

i know.  this will make you laugh.  me and makeup.  i have never worn makeup in my whole life, and here i am now using it and trying to sell it.  you always told me i was so beautiful.  but you always said the best part of me was the "inside me."  you loved my soul, who i was.  i guess who i might still be.  that part of me hasn't changed.  what has changed is my courage.  my stamina is less.  hope is hard to hang on to.  i miss you fiercely.  you were so strong.  you were kick ass and bad ass and all that kind of ass.  you also had a great ass but what i need is for my own ass to be stronger. 

i have gone through all the strength i have.  i have gone through my inner reserves.  i am now running on the idea of hope and strength.  but ideas have carried far more than i further than i even want to go.  so the idea of hope, especially if it's all you have, isn't such a bad thing to have.  some have less.

over 4 years since i kissed you.  over 4 years since i last heard your voice.  where did you go?  is it nice where you are?  do you ever think of me?  do you wish you knew?  if i were tired or happy or, if i were sad and blue?  la de da.  la de da.  i sometimes wish it had been me who died.

but then i think about my children.  and i think about my dogs.  i think about what the future holds and i wonder where i will go.  will i go to Heaven?  is there one?  will we be together?  will i .......
the questions go on and on.  and now, you are one who has the answers.  why won't you share them with me?  

sometimes i don't think i'm going to make it.  i work hard and keep looking for more work.  i never rest on my day off {well, writing on my blog isn't exactly work} and i never go out.  i don't do things other than work, errands, laundry, sew, and now Mary Kay.  my time is taken up with surviving.

i don't even take photos of clouds really anymore.  and i miss the creative thing.  yes, sewing is creative, but i have drawings that i make at night, sketches of things i want to make and i don't take the time for myself.  i don't feel i can.  like maybe i would be punished if i tried to do something nice for myself.  like it's not allowed.

i miss you.  you made me feel happy.  happy is one of those elusive feelings, like inner peace.  you only know you aren't there, but it's what you work for.  and yet, if you read Zen, Judeo-Christian writings, it isn't something you work for, it's something you discover.

i discovered happiness with you.  i discovered inner peace with you.  watching you die ripped that all away and i am swamped with a grief that i've read is all my fault.  "pain is an actual experience.  grief is something you have control over.  so get over it."  reading that hit me in the face like a shovel.  i'm in control of grief.  i'm in control of how much i miss you and how lonely i feel for you.  let me snap my fingers and get over it.  there.  all done.

not.

anyway, i'm more or less the same as i was.  well, i am less than i was.  i am quieter.  i am sadder.  i am more of a loner.  i am freer in a way with what i say and how i look because i do not care what i look like.  you're not here to impress.  i am despondent a lot.  i am hopelessly in love with you.  still.

there is a pattern to my days and a rhythm to my sleep.  all fucked up.  but i'm used to it.  i am tired.  i do have a few more questions for you.

do you miss me?

do you get to sleep, really rest after you die?  

do you, could you, still love me?

forever and always,
~ your Beach Bunny

deeply hurt / last post

reading the 2nd comment from my previous post has me in tears over my apparent stupidity.  i am devastated that i wrote that piece; that i expressed my fears and worries.  her words shined a bright light that shows what a fool i am.

the comment also has me realizing that i must stop writing publicly.  heretofore i have found words of solace coming from those who left messages.  but i am in a very dark place and now feel humiliated by what i write.

waiting on the results of a possible cancer diagnosis, the heavy fear of what might be coming my way, worrying about what and if and how...?  {if i do on with my worries it can be pointed out that there is no life without worry and i am a fool for expressing that i wish i had less to worry about}  but i do worry about my children.  i am at an extremely low point right now and i cannot take her verbal recrimination.  at this time i cannot take someone showing me how stupid i am with my worries.

i signed on to hopefully find some show of support that i so desperately need.  she made me feel ashamed for what i wrote.

he is not here to temper this little cruelty by saying things like, "aw, tell her to piss up a rope."  or "f*ck her.  write what you want.  it's your thing.  tell'em all to f*ck off."

he is not here to be with me while i wait on the doctor's report from the biopsy.  i feel so down and scared.

it will be a while before i even think of writing again.  should i choose to make an appearance here ever again, i swear up and down that i will take careful thought before writing something that someone might feel the urgent need to take apart and condemn. 

but since this has now become a source of pain, i may elect not write anymore at all.

Bunny out.

the art of grief

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

i still paint.

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

i love him.

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

maybe,

maybe i can be proud of my art again.

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

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

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.

what Memorial Day means to me

when i was a kid, yeah, all i knew about Memorial Day was my mother made me where red, white, and blue, and we cooked out.

then i turned 10 and my best friend's brother came home from Vietnam in a box that had a flag draped over it and everything changed for me.

i went to so many military funerals during my junior high through college years, and after.  Memorial Day was always a pensive day for me; friends i'd lost.  beloved brothers of friends who would never come home and the permanent sadness that haunted their eyes.  when anyone received a letter from a loved one, it was torn open and searched for the signature, for any other handwriting that might let the family know something bad had happened, because, not often, but every once in a while, a letter was sent by his men and it reached home before the official visit.  MIA.  POW.  KIA.  initials that made everyone shudder.  each bore it's own horror.

my Dragon told me stories.  i've related some here in past blog postings.  Memorial Day weekend was his time of flashbacks.  i would sit with him while he wouldn't/couldn't/didn't talk to me.  i don't know what he was "seeing" but it was harrowing for him.

my father-in-law served aboard subs.  he used to say that when he died he knew he'd see his mates again.  i wonder if my Dragon has?  what i wouldn't give to be a fly on that wall.

i worked yesterday all day.  a man came in who worked for the VA.  he and his wife had me teary inside of 5 minutes.  he said he will try and get me a whole bouquet of Buddy Poppies.  i want them so bad.  i have tried to collect them over these 3 years and i cannot find them anywhere.  the ones i do have people have sent me.  i am so looking forward to a whole bouquet.  i hope he doesn't forget me.

i miss my Dragon.  it's been horrible hard of late.  i have no reason for it.  i just feel vulnerable.  i think i miss him more on Memorial Day than say, on his birthday, because i know what he did as a Marine.  i know what he sacrificed.  in my heart, he is a hero.  i wish i could tell you more, but i promised him.

i feel on the edge of control of my life and yet tiny things keep cropping up, like my broken knee, my cracked foot, all things i need to take care of.  long hours with difficult people.  worries of doing my job correctly.  worries over the numbers of my store.  my daughter wants to leave her job.  she has an interview with my district manager on Tuesday.  i hope they give her a job.  the job.  the one she wants.

i have today off.  i am embroidering.  i'm thinking of my Dragon.  i can see his flag, his medals, and his urn.  people are shopping and cooking out.  but some are going to the cemeteries and planting flags.  some are eating and smiling and all the while, they are remembering.  i'll be sitting with my two dogs.  they are glad i have a day off.  i am glad, too.  i will have time to gather myself for work tomorrow.  i'll have to be ready.  i'll be out in public.

i love you, my lovely Dragon.  you are the best.

Bunny's Pinning !! ~ and bad days still

Bunny is pinning.  hope you follow her.  she likes to see that, those numbers.  she likes to see if anyone notices her.  lets make Bunny's numbers go up and up.  she pinning some pretty good stuff.  *tease tease* she's an awful interesting Bun.

http://pinterest.com/abandonedsouls/

bad days still.  the Bun is so very tired.  did she tell you?  she fell down.  her knee is broken.  little chips floating around inside her knee.  she needs arthroscopic surgery.  she's got to figure this out.  yes, she has insurance now but it's the time.  she won't be paid for any days off.  she needs that paycheck.  so she's gonna try to figure out a way for her to have a couple of days off side-by-side to have the surgery and recuperate.  then take a "honey day" - bear language for a paid day off - to do some more resting.  3 days should do it.  after all, didn't that 14-year old Olympic gymnast have it done and performed the next day?  Bunny is just as spry as a 14-year old Olympic gymnast.  right?  okay, but at least admit she has the heart of one, the determination to withstand the pain to do it.  not the Olympics but at least have the surgery and then get up and get her little Bunny self back to work.

so she's thinking, knee first, then foot.  *very heavy sigh*

it's been 4 weeks since her work schedule and her daughter's work schedule worked out for them to get together.  that's a long time to not see a friendly face.

which brings Bunny to the teaser that she's working on a blog entry about the human condition, the humans she sees at work.  Lordy Lord Lord, there are some freaky people out there.  and she thought the other mall had some strangers.  she's met some real nutcases at this mall.  come back and check soon as she's got to tell you about this.

this morning Bunny woke up and was hurting so badly she cried.  not out of grief.  not out of loneliness.  just in physical pain.  and then the grief hit her.  she wanted an apple and cinnamon toast.  so she called out her Dragon's name.  so thoughtless.  so cruel that Bunny.  but she didn't know.  she just didn't know Miss Carmen Sophia the Wild Gypsy Girl and Mr. Scootie Wootums Lord of the Dance with the Stardust Eyes would react so.

Bunny called out her Dragon's name and both dogs instantly sat up in bed.  they jerked there gazes to the bedroom door waiting for him to come in to the bedroom to us.  i tried to hug them.  they kept pulling away to keep their eyes on that door.  stupid Bunny.  it's been 3 years, but it's Dragon!  of course they don't really understand.  they are loyal and faithful.  they are waiting for him to come back. 

Bunny cried.  and they forgave her and licked her face and cuddled with her.  Bunny felt she didn't deserve it at all.

see?  bad days still.

home to the puzzle box ~ my grief at 3 years 3 months

first off, don't be startled with the first "song."  it really is what you're hearing.  i found a fog horn.  keep reading.  it has meaning.

i'm ahead of myself.  it won't be 3 years, 3 months until tomorrow night at midnight, but i have a bit of time this afternoon, taking a break from embroidery work, and i wanted to get my thoughts down.

at this point in my life, i sincerely believe what i wrote up there in gold under my main photo.  i had once thought of my whole life as a journey.  i was arrogant, and so very wrong.  it was simply my life.  now that my Dragon has died, i am truly on a journey.  grief, dealing with his death and all the questions, guilt, and fears that came with it; this is my journey.

in the days and weeks that followed his death i used to ask myself, why did we only get 8 years?  why had all the terrors of my life lead me to the warmth of his love, only to take it away after so short a time?  i told myself, i have convinced myself, that his death was predestined and that his guardian angel was not going to let him die alone.  after the life he lead, the missions he went on as a Marine, all the times he must have wondered, "will i die out here and nobody come claim my body," all the times he came home wounded, the fears he must have had, he died with me holding him, giving him CPR, talking to him, soothing him, telling him he was so very dearly loved.

and it is me left to deal with what's left all alone.

i read once that "death ends a life, but it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor's mind towards some resolution which it may never find."  in my experience that is true.  my relationship with my husband has not ended.  i still wear my wedding rings.  at this point, i most likely always will.  i cannot take them off without feeling claustrophobic.

i do have my memories of him, of where we walked, of our little place by the ocean, up in the cove.  there was  a small gate off our property that we walked through to get to the beach.

 we had to walk through our gate and across the top of the ridge to get down to the beach because we were set up a bit high.

this view is from the back yard, looking southeast towards Thatcher light.

and this is from the edge of our backyard looking east northeast toward what i always called, my island.

this the view looking out from the den toward "my island" that i saw everyday.  we'd hear the fog horn sound sometimes, especially at night, and know that lonely sound was reaching out to any mariner who was still out there trying to find their way home.  we'd listen to the wind rattle the windows.

i took this set of three photos the day before one Thanksgiving.  a nor'easter was expected that night with high winds.  i loved those nights.

he and i would lay together upstairs in our small bedroom under the eves and snuggle.  we'd hear the ice hit the glass behind our headboard.

i hold onto those memories when i drive the now half hour to work and all i see is concrete and red earth and traffic.  i humbly thank God for my job that pays my way to survive, but when i am back at the apartment with my little Carmen Sophia and my dashing Scootie Wootums, i remember when i could walk them on the beach.  i remember when we would sit and laugh at them bite at the water rushing the sand and rocks.

i remember feeling the sunshine on my skin and the wind in my hair.  i remember the smell of salt and the sound of gulls and water.

oh, and that Thanksgiving morning?  we woke to this.

i miss him terribly.  i miss him and still sometimes cry.  i miss him in songs i hear.  i wish i could tell him things.

i talked to a widow i know who lives across the Pond in Europe, and she agreed with me.  she and i will probably never look for another man.  she is two months longer into her widow journey than i so we are at the same place time-wise, and seem to be at the same place emotionally.

we miss them.  we are doing what we can to make this journey tolerable.  she in her way.  me in mine.

i look for peace.  i try to create it when i cannot find it.  and i tell myself that i'm doing alright when what i feel is sort of the opposite.  i am lonely, but not for anyone but him.  only he will do.  i look at myself and say, "you're out of the box."  we were a puzzle that had two pieces.  he is back in the box.  i am still out here in the world struggling to make sense of what's left.  he got to where he was supposed to be, but it was much too soon for me.  he left me behind.  our timelines were off.

in every life there comes a journey.  maybe we think we choose it, but i don't think so.  i think it chooses us.  i am what i am making of myself with what life has left me with, which, compared to what i had, isn't much.  well, it certainly isn't as scenically beautiful.

i miss the ocean.  i miss the snow.  i miss the wind, water, gulls, and the fog horn.  i sometimes wonder if, when i dream i hear that fog horn, it really is sounding off up there and is reaching out to me trying to call me home.  home to the ocean's edge.   home to the beach i knew and loved.

or maybe that fog horn i still here in my mind and in my heart is letting me know that it is out there in the fog i cannot see through, the fog of what's to come; letting me know i have a sound to walk towards so i can find my way home.........

home to the puzzle box where my darling, beautiful Dragon's piece sits and waits for me.

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

Bunny, Bunny, Bunny....girl? what's going on?

spring is coming, or here, something. it's warm. trees are flowering. it's pretty out there.

Bunny is working very hard at the store and at her apartment.

days are passing. months. season after season, holiday after holiday. Bunny is getting older.

see that fuzzy, old face up there? stuff's happening. people are getting married. people are having babies. people are living.

is Bunny living?

she still takes pictures. see the pretty tree flowers?
Bun thinks their very nice. they don't smell though.

Bunny's like looks sort of like that. her life looks sort of settled; well, she's got a routine. she pays her bills after much nail biting. she cuts out the luxury stuff like meat and stuff. but she is getting by. she laughs at work. she smiles on cue. she is sewing up a storm. she works very hard. but her life doesn't smell. it's like a pretty flower that draws you in but when you sniff it, there's no smell. there's no perfume.

is Bunny living a faux life?

she doesn't know and she doesn't care. oh, stop. she does sort of care. otherwise she wouldn't be writing about it. it's a question that doesn't have a smell. if someone were to tell her that still missing her Dragon as she does makes her life worthless, she'd shrug and say, "so."

nothing makes Bunny feel. she is just floating along on her little boat on the seemingly endless sea of her lifetime. she's doing what she has to. she's doing what's expected. she has opinions. Lordly, Lord, Lord, does Bunny have opinions, she just doesn't really care what happens out there.

the election? Bunny would write in Cthulhu which is the lesser evil.

dating? phew.

just putting one fuzzy little foot in front of the other.

you know, Bunny doesn't really have a lot to say. she just wanted to reach out to see if anyone was still out there.

*Bunny waves hi*

take care everyone. it's a wild world out there. Bunny knows. today she had a grandmother yell out in the store after her grandson who was racing off to dress his bear, "DON'T YOU WANT TO GIVE YOUR BEAR THAT AIR BATH THING THAT BLOWS OUT AIR ON HIM?! DON'T YOU WANT TO GIVE HIM A BLOW JOB?!"

Bunny didn't laugh until she got to the back room.

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.