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........ 

intimate thoughts

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

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

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 just a few, in the basement of the Rockport Library where the historical documents are kept.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

"to live in this world

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

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

"there is eloquence in screaming." ~ Patrick Jones

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

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

i need his care and comfort.

i need his hot tea.

i need his warm body to keep mine warm.

i need his cool cloths to keep my fever down.

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

so i can breathe.

when i had pneumonia while he was alive,

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

help me relax to find my breath.

he would breathe with me,

unison,

symmetry,

each inhale a little deeper than the one before.

i want him back.

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

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

no one could save him.

in this day and age of commercials saying,

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

no one could save him.

least of all me.

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

i love him best of all.

i need him most of all.

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

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

~ Samuel Johnson

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

i don't have a choice.

they tell you, "just breathe."

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

Bunny's desperation

Bunny is sick. she has a cold. she is snuggling up close to her humidifier. nice humidifier. good humidifier. take care of Bunny. help her get over this. please, please don't let her get pneumonia again.

i miss you, Carl. i miss you more and more with each little catastrophe. i miss you more and more with each nice little thing that happens that i cannot find you to tell you about it. simply put, i miss you. and time is not easing the ache. not yet anyway.

a hug. come give me a little hug. a hug is all i need and i think i can do this a little longer.

Brokedown Bunny

i have pneumonia again. and they say i also have high blood pressure that has gone untreated. i am desperately working on health insurance. i think i can get it through work. i talk to my boss tomorrow evening. please cross your fingers. otherwise i will have to find a plan i can afford before the 30 allotment of pills i do have run out.

desperation. depression. fighting against the choking waves of panic that are ebbing around me. i am scared. i find control. then i am scared again. the battle rages.

i am broken down.

"if i lived closer...."

i have written it to others who are having a hard time. it has been written to me.

i do wish there was some kind of leper colony, some kind of widow{er} community center where a widow{er} can go for help, for conversation, for company. somewhere one can go where they understand you without you having to try and talk through the sobs. where people will hold your hand and comfort you when you are afraid or so lonely you want to crawl in a corner and suck on your hair.

alas, the ones who do talk to me are miles and miles away. i write out what i feel and think here and then hit "publish." and i wait. lonely. pathetic. sad little brokedown Bunny.

i do have a new shirt i made for her. small pleasures. i take them where i can find them.

trying it on she found a little smile.

i'll get the insurance somehow. i'll get the pills. my children and i are working on this together. somehow, whatever will be will be. i'll keep crawling. i'll keep working. i'll keep sewing. but oh, Lord, right now, i am such a broken down Bunny. so lost without him to talk to. so lost without him to comfort me. so lost without him to lean on.

"but oh, the things i learned from her // when sorrow walked with me."

i have learned a lot from all this trouble. i have learned so much.

i need you so much i almost cannot bear it .....

i need you back.

for just a little while. until i get well. i need you.

i have not felt this sick and been without you. my lungs feel like an aquarium.
every time i cough i get piercing pain in my head and go fuzzy. i go sliding down so i do not fall down, but it is the liquid sloshing around in my lungs, that melted jello-feel inside there that upsets me so.

please come hold me tonight. i really need to be with you right now.
the fever was 103. the doctor gave me a shot of antibiotics to kick start the meds. i wish you were here to be with, to make food for me, to refill my juice and tea. magic tea. i used to call it magic tea because you always magically filled it when it got low. you cannot do that anymore.

i wish you could. i love your magic tea.
no matter how i lay, my lungs feel crowded. i cannot get enough air though i do think it is getting better. so many meds. samples all, bless the woman doctor who saw my panic at the expected costs of what i would need to be on.

if you had been there with me, you would have smiled and spread your big hand over my head, finger combed my hair and winked. as it was, please, God, bless my daughter who had that frightened child look about her but the woman resiliency in her to get me to the Urgent Care and speak for me. when she saw me getting the shot, i gave her a smile and a thumbs up. i made a joke about the shot.

3 women in one room. one a doctor. one a woman who is the child of the third. i nodded to the doctor, who gave all her instructions to my daughter and in doing so, gave her the gift and burden of adulthood. caring for her mother.
she has been wonderful, my daughter has. but the nights. aw, Dragon, dear, the nights are so bad. i lie there alone and i cannot breathe. the wheezing is so raspy. soupy. air should not sound like water. the paroxysms of coughing that shake my bones. the fluid in my lungs that makes me feel like i am going to drown.

i wish you were here. i need you so much i almost cannot bear it.......

just until i get well.