transitioning

 my store is closing.  they are closing my store.  that was the news i got 4 weeks ago next Thursday.  it slammed into me like a fist into my stomach.  my first thought was "no money and no health care."

i cried.  they let me go home that day because i was so very devastated.  they offered me a part time job back at the store i trained at, at that moment, i accepted.  but the next day i started looking for work.  that evening i had an interview lined up with Stride Rite - shoes.  selling bears to selling shoes.   they offered me a full time assistant manager position at a store the same long distance from my little apartment but it comes with health care so i took it.  $1 an hour less in pay.  so i took it.  because jobs are so hard to find and this one literally fell into my lap.  one week exactly from the day i heard they were closing my store, i had another job to walk into.

i was lucky and i know it.  but i am still scared.  tomorrow starts my new job.  first question?  what is the pay period?  when do i get a paycheck again?  second question?  when does health care kick in?

transitioning is so very scary for someone like me.  i'm still a Bunny of a woman.  i'm quiet.  i seldom defend myself.  case in point.  when i had to return the keys to my store, one of the part time managers at the store i returned them to told me i was crazy for accepting the job i did, that i was stupid to accept a job where i would still have to drive so far, and on and on.  what did i say in return?  nothing.  i cried and walked away.  she saw me crying.  she knew she had made me cry.  i did not look back.  what do you say to someone who points things out like that?  "is your life so miserable that you relish every opportunity to make someone cry and feel scared?  do you look in the mirror and see the monster i see inside you?"

but Bunny says nothing.  she just cries and walks away, and, of course, has yet another place and person she avoids.  such cruelty in the world.  thoughtless acts.  purposeless.

 i closed and locked the doors to my store for the last time on Good Friday.  i peeked back in and cried.  i cried for all the fuzzy friends i will not get to make.  i cried for the uncertain future i am headed into.  i cried out of fear and loneliness.  i cried all the way home.

home.  when i got home there they were.  my two friends.  they love me unrestrained.  they have no self-interests.  there is no evil in them, no malice.  they are incapable of revenge or cruelty.  dogs are "the rich man's guardian and the poor man's friend, the only creature faithful to the end."  ~ George Crabbe.

i love them.  i anticipate their greetings as i hurry up the stairs.  i open the door and sigh with relief.  i am with them again.  our little pack of three are reunited.  all is well within the sanctuary of our small little place.  we all pile on the bed and we all three sigh.  snuggle time.  cuddle time.  time to rest together.  one of our pack is now gone forever, and i know that these two will see him before i will.  but for now, we are together, and i can cry, ask them questions, "what do you think about this, or that?"  they listen with all the intensity of a worried therapist.  they lick my tears and sit on my legs trapping me, drifting off knowing that if i move, they will awaken.

transitioning is hard on them, too.  my daughter is coming over on breaks or after her own shift to walk them until my hours are figured out.  the first week i am being trained and have to drive an hour to another store and an hour back.  the company is paying for mileage but i do worry about my dogs, my friends, my babies; so my daughter is coming to walk them.    i can find comfort during the day in that.

so life has decided that i am to do something different now.  from bears to shoes.  a job of serving others.  on my knees fitting shoes to others' feet.  humble.  very humble.  i asked my children if they were ashamed that i had come to this and they said, no, that they were so very proud of me.  they felt i had earned this "move up" and they it was meant to be.  it all happened so fast and so easily.

i have no idea what lessons i am now supposed to learn and/or what i am to give to everyone now, but i guess i'll go with the flow.  i'll work, and learn, and give and give.  i'll keep my head down and work.

once i transition into this job i have made a promise to myself, set a new goal.  i want to try to be happy.  i want to try and find a way to accept this life better, be on better terms with it, because i am tired of being so afraid and so depressed.  i miss him badly.  i miss him as a friend, companion, lover, husband, as someone who truly cared about me.  i miss him, but i have to keep going and i want to do that "keep going" thing better than i have been.  fear and worry and grief have taken their toll on me.  so i am going to try to find "happy."  or i could grade on a curve and find "doin' okay."  i'd accept that.

life is a journey.  "doin' okay" first, then "happy."

and i'll take my little Carmen Sophia and Scootie Wootums along with me.  after all, "i get by with a little help from my friends."

p.s. the Veteran's Administration has approved my waiver and released me from any obligation to pay them back for their mistake.  {just keep breathing, Bunny.  for some reason that went your way.  just keep breathing.}

the closing of the year & silver linings

"if i cannot bring you comfort, then at least i bring you hope for nothing is more precious than the time we have and so we all must learn from small misfortunes, count the blessings that are real.  ring out the bells for Christmas and the closing of the year."

it's been a rough 8 months.  new position that brought with it hard and exhausting dilemmas from people whose arrogance and self-entitlement rode over their common sense.  silver lining?  "i'm still here you bastards." ~ Steve McQueen

the VA wants their money back.  they made a mistake, they say, way back in April of 2011, and so they want all their money back; all of it; as in all of it.  going to ask for a waiver based on it's their effing mistake.  hardship on my part.  as in, i don't effing have almost $13,000.  silver lining?  i will fight this.

my hands hurt.  my knees hurt.  the doctor said that i have moderate to severe arthritis.  it will get worse.  try to keep moving and, basically, good luck with that.  i'm not sure which is harder to accept, seeing something on the table that would work but cannot afford it, or having the doctor say that there is really nothing he can do.  the meds he scripted for me raise my blood pressure too much so i am off them and going to just "keep moving."  silver lining?  giving up is not an option.

my rent went up but not too awful.  hopefully i get a cost of living raise in Feb. or Mar. or whenever.  i don't eat as much anymore due to the fact that i need to pay my bills first.  silver lining?  i've lost more weight.  you can never be too rich or too thin, right?  well, since i will never be even just okay financially by default i'll go for the too thin part.

i miss him.  i miss him badly.  i could really use his advice.  a hug.  someone who will sit and listen to me.  i like looking into his eyes when we talked.  he really did listen to me.  i watch my co-workers' faces and unless it's all about them, they don't listen.  they have these micro-expressions that range from annoyance to boredom.  i know when to shut up; right after i say, "no, i'm fine.   silver lining?  i feel as mysterious as Greta Garbo.

but i miss him and i've been thinking about my grief lately and wondering again if i am normal.  i found this poem in a book.

"what is a ghost.
a tragedy condemned to repeat itself time and again?
a moment of pain, perhaps something dead
which still seems to be alive.
an emotion suspended in time
like a blurred photograph,
like an insect trapped in amber.
a ghost.  that's what i am."

i feel like a ghost.  i am there but i am suffering over the death of my husband and all the unresolved questions and emotions.  it's an unfinished love story.

a man i've known for a very long time died recently.  he was my maths teacher in junior high school.  he and i and the school librarian, Miss Stiles, had something in common ~ books and more specifically Shakespeare.  i have volunteered in libraries my entire life.  i love books.  not Kindle because you cannot dog ear a Kindle or write in the margins, but books.  i found Miss Stiles and Hal when i was 13 and she was in her 60's and he was in his late 20's or early 30's.  they wrote hall passes for me to meet them twice a month for lunches in the library with them for all of 7th, 8th, and 9th grades.  we'd talk books.  we'd share ideas.  i listened so intently to them and their own philosophies, points of view, their own personal life stories that were so parallel.  i learned a great deal about books, and people, from these two teachers.

Miss Stiles had become engaged at 19 but her fiancee had gone off to fight in WWII.  he died.  she never took off her engagement ring, never dated, never loved anyone but him.  she died when i was in high school of a stroke.  Hal called my mother to tell her and asked if he could come over and be the one to tell me.  he sat with me and my mother, telling me of how Miss Stiles wasn't in pain and that she was with her beloved now.  i remember asking him if he was jealous.  my mother was shocked at my question but Hal just smiled and shushed my mother.  i vividly remembering him saying to her, "your daughter has an acute understanding of the human condition."  to me he said, "thank you for asking and yes, i am a little bit, but it isn't my time to go.  there's still a lot for us to talk about." 

Hal had married when he was about 26 or 27.  they married a week before Christmas.  she was killed in a car accident when they had been married for only 3 days.  he never got to spend Christmas with her.  Hal loved Christmas.  he cherished all of it.  reindeer.  tinsel.  Santa Claus.  he kept the religious aspect out of school but he was deeply religious.  his faith was, as he said, all he had to hang onto now that she was gone.  he deeply believed she was with him always.  he claimed he could feel her hand on his shoulder.  he loved her with all his heart.  and we kept up with each other off and on over all this time.  he did have a lot to share with me.  more books.  more stories of how he felt about the way parenting and society was evolving and the sadness he felt over it.  he felt we had gotten away from the true definition of the word family.

he died a few days ago after celebrating his 50th wedding anniversary alone.  i know he got to spend his first Christmas together with his wife.  he'd waited so long for it.  no one, especially not God, would deny him his eternity with his beloved wife.  am i jealous?  a little bit, but it's not my time to go.  i've got my two children and they aren't ready for me to die.  {i know Hal and Miss Stiles are up there talking books.}

silver lining on these stories of these two people?  i got to meet them and be part of their lives.  i got to listen to what they had to say.  i had the rare opportunity to be a listener to someone's grief long before i knew what grief was.

life is rough for me but i have a small place.  i have a job.  i have my dogs and my children.  i cry a lot still.  i miss him always.  i wish i had a moment to have a friend.  my medical problems seem endless.  my anxiety and frustrations are high, but i do have all those things i just listed.

so if i cannot bring you comfort, then at least i bring you hope.  hope for silver linings.  hope for a net to catch you if you fall.  hope for peace.

the end of the world / the Dragon returns

it's happened.  the Veteran's Administration has risen up to keep me in the teeth, the stomach, and when i am doubled over, they are crushing my back.

i wrote to them all along telling them about my job, how much i am making with each raise.  i have never lied to them or kept them in the dark.

i got my response from them tonight in my mail.

dated Nov. 28, 2012, they have written that they have been overpaying me since..............

April of 2011.

19 months ago.

they have just now figured out, or are ready to implement their new edict.  no more death pension for Bunny.

oh, but wait.  they have been overpaying me as far as they are concerned.  their words:

"We have created an overpayment in your account."

and now they want me to pay it back.  they will let me know in a separate letter how much they have overpaid me, and how i can "repay this debt."

i am terrified, devastated, in shock, worried, so many emotions and feelings.  i am crying and laughing at the same time.  crying in terror at paying back 19 months of pension.  laughing at the fact that it has taken them 19 effing months to put this together, get the letter written, and set this in motion.

how am i going to live?  this was my rent money?  who can i make it? eat?  diabetes medicine?  gas for work? high blood pressure meds? food?  car payment?  car insurance? 

i am falling into an abyss.  what do i do?

~~~

oh, my God, my love!  my sweet wife!  please hold on.  please don't let go.  keep yourself safe.  take care of yourself.  somehow you will survive this.  somehow it will be okay.  {my son and daughter} said they will help you work it out.  lean on them if you feel yourself wanting to give up.  please, Baby, please don't give up.  please, don't let this scare you.  you and the kids will get this worked out.

oh, Christ, why did i have to die and leave her?  she needs me!  she NEEDS ME!!

Honey, hang on.  just close your eyes and feel me.  i'm here.  i really am still here.  oh, Baby.  don't let this ruin your Christmas with the kids.  breathe, Bunny Love.  breathe.  oh, please, just keep breathing.  you deserve to breathe free.  God, i wish i could take this all away from you.  you deserve an easier time.  you work so hard and now, to have them do this.  Shit.  oh, honey.  please just hang on.  i'm here.  talk to me.  

~~~

i don't know what i'll do, but i'll have to do something.  they want their money back even though it is their mistake.  i wish he were here to talk to .  i need him to hold me and tell me it's going to be okay.  i really don't know if i can do it anymore.  i feel myself breaking apart inside; like i've burned up inside with this hot fear that has scorched my insides.  i feel myself flaking off piece by piece and blowing away in the breeze.  i am losing my humor, my spirit, my energy, my desire to anything other than to just survive.  

find a friend?  i'm too wiped out with work and worry.

take a class maybe?  i'm too wiped out with work and worry.

breathe free and embrace what i have accomplished?  i'm too wiped out with work and worry.

and Christmas with my children?  i am going to embrace it and them and take as much peace and love and absorb the memories from it as i can.  it might be my last one.

i am shattered into a billion pieces.  i feel gone inside; like a flame has gone out and the wick has been cut off to that it will never be able to catch again.

how do i eat?  how do i live?  how do i pay this back?  their mistake.  my debt.  i think i need to go throw up.

i think i will go to bed and have a stroke.  

~~~

oh, Babe.  suffering.  why do this to her now?  why do this to her?  stop the pension, okay, but tell her to pay them back?  that is wrong!  i need to go back.  i need to just go back for a little while and help her with this.  please, God.  let me just help her..................

~~~

my new mantra.  "don't lose hope.  try not to lose hope. you used to be loved.  the kids love you.  somehow you will find a way.  don't lose hope." 

i wish you were here.

~~~

i am here.

is that all there is?

it came. the letter. i get something each month, at the end of the month for the month before. it is far, far less than what i had hoped for. it is far less than what i had even expected. no wonder the man on the phone had said, "it is less than what he deserves for what he did."

did i tell you that he had been captured once? he was. they only had him for 3 weeks because he got away, but they did things to him. they hurt him. after that, and for the rest of his life, it was difficult for him to find shoes that were comfortable for longer than 3 or 4 hours.

he deserved more recognition from his government, but i believe every widow of a veteran can say that. in that one thing i am not alone.

my ex got pissed at me this weekend for what i think of as a small infraction. i have no control over life or him. i just have to run the gauntlet. or maybe i should twirl and dance. harder to hit someone who dances to the song playing in their head, a music no one else can hear. but he is a pressure on my lungs that is like a giant rock. heavy. huge. he held off on my food money and my rent money transfer until this morning. yesterday was purgatory waiting him out. i did not write. i did not call. when he called, i endured the lecture pretty much how i always have, silently. and when i spoke, i chose my words carefully.

he huffed and puffed and all it got was windy. there is nothing he can do to hurt me more than the death of my Dragon hurt. i am so tired of being scared. i think i am just going to bury scared in the sand and walk away. i have too many other fears cropping up now and for the rest of my life to be afraid of someone who isn't really in my life anymore. not too too much anyway.

and come Jan. 1, he will only have one leash on me. the other lines will be severed. financially speaking, i am in the middle of a constant panic attack until i figure out if i have the job or not. wednesday. i need Wednesday's job interview to be perfect, and i am so far from perfect; i have never seen perfect. no one would call me even "right," but he did. my Dragon thought i was perfect. and he was flawed perfectly, the perfect fit for me.

i am ready for this to be over or i am ready for him to come back. one of the two. okay? ah, well, c'est la vie. it is what it is and it will be what it will be. i guess that's really Que Sara Sara. but that song did not fit my mood with the "Is That All There Is" letter from the VA. and i have always liked Peggy Lee's voice. kind of a smokey, torch singer in a basement jazz and blues bar voice.

i miss him. i am scared. sometimes i think i feel so much and so deeply that i am incapable of feeling much at all. i did panic my son yesterday. he called and i had been crying. i sounded like i had a terrible cold. he again reassured me that we will work this out. i will not be homeless or without food. hearing my son say that, the little boy i protected all his life, it feels surreal.

a woman from the old group left a note on my Facebook page last week, the personal one. i have not heard from her in 6 months, i think it is. 5 or 6. i have sent a couple of emails. left some comments to her postings on FB, but heard nothing back. and then she leaves a comment that we should re-connect. i sent her a private message that i would love to do that. i gave her my phone number again in case she had lost it. and i have heard nothing back. if a widow does not understand loneliness and financial hard times, or have time for another widow, then there is nothing i can do. my door is open. the phone lines are open. i will not stand on a porch waiting for someone who cannot find their own front door.

i have my daughter and son. i have my two little dogs. i have my Dragon, sort of. my memories anyway. i have the knowledge that i was good enough for him. he loved me. there i said it. past tense. you have no idea how big a step that is for me. but he is gone and whether he loves me now is beyond my knowing. i like to believe he does. but i know for fact that he did love me once. and i love him. if i am only good enough for one person during my life, then so be it. life has not been easy. i have weird things i have to deal with through no choice of my own. i can only do what i can do. and i am who i am. my Dragon loved me and i do find solace in that.

now i am lonely Beach Bunny alone. {i think there is a poem in that title.} i am struggling to get a handle on, not who i am, i know who i am; but on what the hell will happen to me. i just want to have a roof and food. roof and food. that's my mantra. screw health care. next up is applying for food stamps. i work non-stop on getting by every day all day. embroidering, quilting, sewing, and now waiting on that job interview and prostituting myself to others with a vibrancy and love of life i no longer have. but for a roof and food, i will smile and shine.

maybe one day it will all come together. maybe one day i will be able to relax for one day. one moment. maybe one day something will happen and i will not be panicked any longer. until then, i will keep working, searching for work, and taking it up the fluffy white tail from those odd people who race to the gauntlet line and reach out for a quick slap to make themselves feel good.

{Bunny does have a sense of humor.}

all i can do is keep hopping, twirling, maybe dancing a little, and cry a little. tears cleanse the eyes and the peanut gallery on the sidelines of my gauntlet will get their jollies from seeing me cry while i just keep going. and one day, they will all get bored with their cruel game. it is really win-win if you think about it. and if i get the Build-A-Bear job, i will be busy being like Mr. Magorium's assistant, not really, but sort of. you have to be inside my head.

for now, the Bun is alone. her Dragon has died. all she can do is hop along, twirl and dance when she can. she will just keep jumping through everyone's hoops. too bad some of those hoops are on fire.

but Bunny was made at Build-A-Bear and her fur is more or less flame retardant. until they hold her down and really work to destroy her, she will keep going. and, as the song says, if that's all there is, then she will keep dancing, but only under the light of the full moon.

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.

dog in a cage

none of this is proofread. i wrote it Saturday and left it. i do have food right now. it's just been a long, long life joyfully interrupted by that brief period of extreme happiness with my Dragon.

oh, and the Burger King Fairy stops by during the dark times.

{my daughter is my daughter all the days of her life.}

God,

yeah, it’s me again. i know i come to You entirely too much but You’re the only one i can really talk to. You’re the only one who knows me, who knows everything about me. You know what i’m thinking so i can do the shorthand-speak, or if i'm crying too hard to talk, i can say, “well, You know,” and i’ll know You really do know.

i feel like a dog in a cage. i saw that show about dogs, You know the one. they filmed a vet clinic that had a death row and they talked about the laws and how long the dogs are kept before their individual trips to that room at the end of the hall. all the dogs were pressed against their bars with eyes that i swear were glazed with awareness and fear. they were staring at the cameraman, at the narrator, at however many it took to film that show and it was so apparent. all those dogs only wanted a chance. not a second chance or a third, just a chance. they want what all of us want, a loving home and enough to eat, or just simply to be set free. it was heartbreaking because no one was there for them. they were just filming a show. no one was coming for those dogs. they were all silently asking in the only way open to them for help, for attention, to be understood and loved, or just to be freed and no one was paying attention. the people talked above their heads instead of looking at their body language ~ their ears, their tails, and especially their eyes.

i feel like that. i feel like a dog in a cage waiting. i feel like i beg with my worn out eyes, my words that seem to come out in a language no one understands, and/or with my stupid voice for attention and for understanding. i carefully walk the plank twice a month begging and subservient in my emails for my stipend. i am waiting quietly and politely for the VA to process my claim. in the meantime, i hurt. i’m terrified. i live in desperation each minute of every day. when will they send me a letter? when will i be allowed to breathe? am i ever going to be free of this incessant fear so i can just grieve for my husband? i feel like i’m stagnating at this point because i’m in this cage waiting and i can’t think about anything except how safe i felt with my Dragon.

how many times have i talked to You while leaning my head against the glass sliders looking out on concrete world of cars, watching people come and go living lives where at least they are free to come and go. i’m a hostage here while i wait on money, and then wait on a ride. i’m waiting on an unknown future that i have no more control over than i had control over my Dragon dying so suddenly. i know what i'd do if had money. i know where i would try to live. God, we both know i know how to be alone. i go for days without actually seeing anyone. if i felt safe, i think i could grieve in a more normal way, but fear keeps me in line. not being in charge of my own life holds me back from feeling safe. how can i go through the grieving process when my stomach eats itself from the stress of not knowing what the stipend-giver and the VA have planned for me?

i get so very hungry sometimes. You know. You’ve seen me. i never say, “i’m starved.” i’ve never starved, but i have been hungry. i get teary when i try to get excited over a plate of Saltines with apple butter on top, a bowl of oatmeal, and some Jell-O. three days, four days of it, it gets old and its really not enough calories. i pretend i’m on “Survivorman” and that this is a windfall, or better, “Man, Woman, Wild” where she’s with her husband and it’s all being filmed. i like that one because she seems to really feel blessed to have him with her, in life, not on the show. well, yes on the show, too, but what i mean is they really seem to love each other. You know what i mean. of course You do. You’re God.

“here’s the daring widow down to her last sleeve of Saltines and a quarter jar of jelly. good girl! she’s learned that out here, far away from help, she must ration her food in order to make it last. and she’s learned one of the cardinal rules of survival. keep your spirits up. she’s putting the crackers on a plate instead of standing at the kitchen counter and eating them while crying. and setting up the stuffed bunny and taking photographs gives her just the break she needs to help her hang onto hope that things will improve.”

sometimes the cupboards are so bare yet i still have to wait on him to make the transfers of funds. i wait and i wait. my neck aches and my joints hurt and i know its lack of food that exacerbates that pain. i’m tired and hungry and suddenly i’m overwhelmed with missing my Dragon.

he died, God. i mean, You know, You were there, too. but my Dragon got to die and i didn’t. he got to go to a place where he doesn’t hurt anymore. he probably doesn’t even remember me. isn’t that how it works? he’s gone on to something better? it would destroy me to learn that he knows how bad it gets for me sometimes. please, i beg You. don’t let him know.

when he finally transfers the money, i have to wait for a ride, or walk over and get only what i can carry back which i just can’t do anymore. my foot hurts and i’m afraid i’ll get over there and can’t get back. and when i get food, i’m like a jittery, crazy person trying to fix me something to eat. i talk to the dogs. i hear myself saying crap like, “mommy’s going to have real food tonight! we get to have a real meal!” and then, in my jittery anticipation of getting to really eat, i do something stupid like put the mini meatloaves in the frig instead of the oven and 30 minutes later wonder why i can’t smell them cooking, and then i have to go find them and stick them in the oven. and wait longer. and i cry.

i know i’ve been trained with a harsh hand. like a whipped dog, i do what i’m told. i’ve been crushed into this person that i don’t feel like i was meant to be. i died inside a long time ago, but i still feel part of me inside. i dream these wonderful, beautiful dreams of things i can never have. i dream i have a home with a bit of a yard to take care of. i dream i have a garden with flowers and vegetables and herbs. i can see myself sponge painting walls to make them look older than they are. i’d have old wood floors with dhurrie rugs and comfortable old furniture. and i dream i have my things back. everything i had to leave in New England is back. all my clothes are in the closet. i have all my furniture back. i don’t have to spell out to you what i’ve lost. i just dream of having a place that i can take care of and where i can create a small life for myself. it will be my home and i’ll get to a point where i won’t hate myself anymore because i won’t have to beg for food and lights and a roof over my head. and then i can work through my grief over the fact that not all Dragons live forever. at least not with me.

i work hard. i sew non-stop. i wake to take my dogs out and then i get to work. when i get to eat a lunch or something, i stop sewing, but i sit at the computer and work on the photos so that maybe someone will buy one, or some. i set aside what i’m working on between 11 PM and 1 AM to go to bed. i get into bed and my body starts to spasm. i lie there and twitch and jerk with the pains that grab at me. my back aches. my hands throb and my fingers click and pop. my foot feels like knives are stabbing it. it feels like raptors are ripping it apart and it all scares me. is it just the stress? i know my foot is screwed but is there something else wrong, too? and what if there is? would I call 911? no. i don’t have the money. it would piss off the kennel keeper, too. i’m a dog on death row. no one fights for those dogs. few try to save them. they are beyond redemption. but are they beyond absolution?

God, please forgive me but i feel despondent. i thought all the presentations were behind me. remember those every Saturday morning? remember how blank his eyes would get? i did everything he told me to do but he always found fault. my priest told me i needed to leave him. he told me it would be all right. it was hell. he was bullshit about losing his money. not me. not the marriage. not the children. his money. i gave up 20 years of my rights to anything earned so he wouldn’t do the things he said he would. i was scared and no one was helping me. he closed it all down and took the money that day, before the children even got home from school. i told him at 9 AM after the kids went to school and my card was declined at the grocery store at 2:30 PM. what i did get to have, i did not get. i have to wait for it. i’d learned the lesson that there are some who are blessed with safer lives than i’ve been allowed to live. whatever You’re teaching me now that my Dragon has died, humbleness, humility, disgrace, shame, humiliation, let me take the test. i think i can pass. can i have a chance at something different for the end here?

i’m hurting and scared. i’m frightened and tired. God, i miss him. You gave me my Dragon and then he died. why would You bother to do that? why would You show me what it’s like to be loved? because of the way things played out that only You and me and Dragon know about, You know, yeah, because of all that, our life together was so financially hard. we lived on nothing, giving it all to my children to save them, to protect them. but we had love. for a little while, someone loved me. You did allow me to have that brief time where i saw someone looking at me with love in his eyes. i have never been loved like that. i have never been encouraged like that or allowed to be myself without worrying about the repercussions. i was in such awe of him. to love someone like me he had to be flawed. but he wasn’t. he was perfect. i love him so much. You blessed me with my Dragon for those few years out of my life and i am on my knees in gratitude. how do i thank You for letting me taste what it is like to be liked, appreciated, and loved?

how many people get to be themselves without worry of being slapped or screamed at or verbally stripped of all dignity in front of friends, in front of their children? how many people are encouraged to speak their minds, or can buy the large box of crayons at the grocery store, or get to ask to stop at the farm stand for a peck of newly picked apples and not get in terrible trouble? my Dragon gave me all that. he was shocked when i’d ask permission for the smallest things. he cried that one time, when i told him what had happened to me, but he didn’t turn away from me. he held me while i cried, too. he kissed me and told me he would never leave me. he said he would never let anything bad happen to me ever again. he said he wanted to allowed me the time to heal so that i could learn to fly. he wanted me to be free and he knew, he just knew that i had so much life inside me to give. he said he would always fly beside me and make sure that i didn’t fall. he loved me in spite of what had been done to me. he was gently giving me the gift of myself. i was slowly coming to believe in the power of his love for me when he died. i had gotten within sight of believing it would all be all right only to watch it fade away while i watched the light fade from his eyes.

now i am back to being the dog in the cage. i wait for handouts. i wait for tiny bits of freedom, like going for groceries or to the library. i am waiting for the VA to give me something and i worry what that something will amount to. will it be enough to open the cage door? will anyone see me try to escape death row? how many dogs were euthanized today anyway? and why do we come up with words to disguise what we do to each other and to other beings? we kill dogs because their existence has become inconvenient. i am now inconvenient for some people. i am a burden. “why are you still here?” he wanted to know why i am still alive. “useless.” “you look a hundred years old.” “you’re sad for him but you never were sad about the divorce.” “why are you still here?”

i read that you never really know what a death will make you do. you try to reach past what’s possible, struggle to fit the pieces together even though they are far to broken to bother with anymore. i am sitting in my cage trying to fit the few pieces of my life that are left together again. my Dragon would want me to try. so i’m trying to hang on, but i don’t know how long i have. since my Dragon died so suddenly, i wore his boxers and one of this t-shirts to bed. since the widow who lived downstairs died alone in her apartment and was not found until the next morning, i wear shorts and his t-shirt to bed.

“now i lay me down to sleep. i pray the Lord my soul to keep. if i should die before i wake, i pray the Lord my soul to take.

don’t let me die in the bath alone, unable to reach my little cell phone. please don’t let me die undressed. let me get my pants on, and pull a shirt across my breast.”

my current weariness at the futility of my life makes me wonder how much longer i can go on like this before i drop in my tracks. i’m shattered. i’m trying to put me back together again but the pieces i have left are damaged from my life before my Dragon. there are so many pieces that are just gone. i’m no longer a complete person. and now that my beloved Dragon has died, well, i’m not flying anymore. i never even had time to get off the ground. and if so much of me is lost out there, how will i ever be allowed to go Home? i don’t look like who i was supposed to be, do i? or will You know me no matter what?

i’m so scared all the time. the stress is killing me. i know that. my life is being shortened with each panic attack. each time i check emails for him saying that he’s transferred the funds so i can pay bills and i get to eat, and it’s not there yet, i sob in fear. i feel my life’s clock ticking down. how will i be found? will i be given Last Rites? if they forget, does it matter to You? my intention was there.

God, where do You plan on me going? Heaven? Purgatory? Hell? the thought of being thrown down there where all hope lives and dies over and over frightens me more than being hungry. will i be allowed to see my Dragon? can i, please? i would work for You. i can do a lot of things. i know how to take care of horses and cows. i can work a field and put up and keep up a barbed wire fence. i can drive a tractor for hours under a baking sun. i can grow flowers. i can paint and sew. i can carve wood and throw pottery, make stained glass windows, and draw. i can clean and i know the Dewey Decimal System like the back of my hand, like each scar on my body, like every pain that vibrates through my body. i would work so very hard for the privilege of being allowed to be with my Dragon in Heaven.

please, God. i need a break. i see myself like a dog in a cage on death row. i had love and i can hold the memory of it close so i’m not asking for anything like that. i can’t go through explaining the scars again anyway. i’m too old and it would be too hard to talk about all that. and You know and i know that only a Dragon of man can love a woman like me.

so what am i asking for? i’m asking for forgiveness for all my sins. i want my Dragon to be forgiven so that he’s in Heaven. i want him to have peace and joy and light. i want to try and find a way to get my things back out of storage. i want my clothes. i want to sit in his favorite chair. i want to get rid of stuff, organize the rest of it for my children, and to just touch it again, see it all again before You let me die.

i’m asking for the cage door to be unlocked. please, please let the VA come through for me with enough that i can run. i think if i can wave just enough cash at the fear, i can start to work on the grief of losing the only man i will ever love, the only person who loved me, the only person who could keep me safe. maybe if, like a dog in a cage, i could get a reprieve, i could reconcile myself to the fact that i got to be loved for 8 years and that’s all. i’m not greedy. out of an entire lifetime, eight is plenty. eight out of well, you know how old i am and how old i’ll be when i die so You can do the math, but it’s enough. he loved me so much and that is such a rare thing, for someone to be able to love me, that i humbly accept only 8 years.

please, God. i just need the cage door left open. please, make a little commotion that distracts anyone from looking at me. just give me the chance to run.

in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit,

Amen

Saturday night @ 11 PM

Sunday morning at 4 AM

i took Sunday off from other work ~ Sunday night at 9:30 PM

it still isn't finished but at least it's square.

abandonedsouls

i have food again. i made a box of Cheerios, two heat and serve bags of white rice, one bag of yellow rice, and 3 eggs last for 8 days. and green tea. lots of green tea.

i think it's been harder lately because i haven't eaten much. but yesterday, he went ahead and sent the funds so i could get food. my daughter had to intervene. she had to beg him. because it isn't the first of the month yet.

i have food again. i was so careful while shopping. i decide meals for each day keeping in mind the two keywords: leftovers and rationing. small portions. two meals a day. when my daughter and i brought the grocery sacks inside the apartment, we both sat for a minute, and i cried. i have food again. she cried, too, from frustration, from the relief that i was going to be able to eat a real meal last night. i ate it too fast and almost got sick. but it stayed down and i am so grateful. i woke up this morning and i had one egg and a piece of toast with jelly on it.

i am grateful yet i often bury my head in my hands and sob. i wish he hadn't died.

i'm having a harder time budgeting $200 a month for food. yes, i've applied for food stamps. for some reason though, my being honest and telling them i have applied and am waiting on the VA holds up the process. maybe next week. maybe next month.

my Dragon never let us go hungry. no matter that we paid for colleges, apartments for the children, cars, insurance, medical, and the debt that my ex ran up, his fines, the trouble he caused with the IRS and an insurance company, everything he did to me and left me with, we got it paid for and still had money for food and a roof. my Dragon is my rock. and without my rock i am alone and tired, and scared, and fighting bureaucracy.

they went ahead and closed the VA office closest to me so i am having to start over and get on a new list somewhere for one-on-one grief counseling as the wife of a veteran. almost 18 months out and i still cannot find anyone to talk to. by the time i find someone to talk to i'll be dead myself and it won't matter.

i read about so many people with support ~ friends, family, options for grief counseling where they get to talk and be heard. i am feeling hostile and i wonder if it's lack of food and/or terror at what else life will dump on me. there was just a note posted on my apartment door. in this day of every office trying to go paperless, they have just stopped online rent payments. they want bank checks now. they tell me this on the 29th. i don't own a car. i sold it to pay off New England bills and to get moved here to be close to my daughter. now i have to call her and tell her that either today or Monday, the 2nd, i have to be driven to the bank to get a check. i'd cry but it will only give me a headache and i've had too many of those lately due to lack of food.

i feel surly at times. i think i may want to give up being online. i can't see the point of this anymore. other than trying to network for commission work, it's been upsetting for me. it has been a reinforcement of what one widow from that old group i tried had said to me. of all the things two of the women felt i needed to hear, this is what hurt the most, or i stupidly let it hurt, but it reverberates in my head still, after all this time because nothing has changed.

"the only reason anyone from the group was keeping up with you was because they were waiting on their quilts. once they get them, they go back to their lives. you have no life. if this were India, you would be an Undesirable. you have no money to spend on anyone and you have no car. i'm not coming over for you to cook me dinner anymore. there are people who bring me better food to my home. i'm tired of always being served eggs at your place."

that really hurt and it still does. i do not have what it takes to be a "good friend" to this woman and i do not want to, and yet, this is the bar to which i feel i am measuring myself, or am being measured. this is not the south of my grandmother's era, or even my mother's. i feel like i need to produce a commercial and post it. "why i can be a good friend even if i don't have a car and cannot buy you things." what i am doing is filling my time here on this earth creating a body of work that will outlast me.

and i am a good mother. and i am a good wife. i love my husband. yes, he's dead. i know this better than anyone. but i still very much feel like i am his wife. and my love has not dimmed in the face of all this misfortune. he is a Marine and Marines aren't wealthy. and there will be money from the government. they just take their time.

this is my fault really. i had expectations of meeting people and making some friends, of finding a friend, just one. but i now see that i have come into established lives where there is no room for someone like me. this is a big city. if my daughter had lived in Rockport, i could have stayed and walked everywhere. i would have been seen. i could have joined the "library ladies" that met once a week in the basement where all the old, really cool stuff like maritime maps and ships papers were stored. all of them were widow women and gossiped like it was 1955. it was wonderful down there. and they knew me and my Dragon because we love, love, love maps and we were there all the time. they would have hugged me and chatted. we would have sat and brought our sewing and talked and talked about "our men." it was such a lovely and diverse group of women. widows who had lost their husbands to the sea. widows who had lost their husbands through long, drawn out illness, or suddenly, like i had to face.

they would have made a home for me there in the basement with all those old books and maps. and i wouldn't have had to pay them anything.

if i have commission work, i don't need people. and i can create work to build inventory. so i guess i don't need people. ah, here it comes full circle. i don't really need anyone. it would just be kinda nice to see someone sometime. but then they will just tell me how disappointed in me they are, which will disappoint me in the state of the world.

i guess what that woman said to me was true. once i've made the quilt, (with 2 exceptions ~ Deb and Dan), i don't hear from them anymore. especially the people i've made quilts for who live here in this city. they are gone forever even though they came to my apartment and sat and talked about their losses, and i held their hands, and i took on their grief to make their quilts. they did not reciprocate. they did not see my own sorrow. she was right. they did not see me as a possible friend even though i sat with them at that group. i was nothing more than a vendor.

the shop i was going to open on the Neck was going to be called AbandonedSouls. my Dragon and i both came up with it. it came from the idea that i would collect what the ocean threw back on the rocks and make things out of it. driftwood carvings, sculptures, chisel my designs in the stones, etc. all the things i worked with had been abandoned. there were other reasons for the name that are exclusively between my Dragon and me. philosophical pillow talk. we are both deep thinkers. maybe someday i'll have a shop. or not. but the name will be forever mine. at least in my head. maybe someday i'll go to a beach somewhere and find a beautiful old piece of driftwood and i can carve the name in it.

i miss him. i need him back. or i need to stop letting the awful things that i've been told stop getting to me. i feel raw, but i should be feeling better. i have food now. the awful thing is i had thought widows protected each other. for a while i bought into that saying of they "get it."

these are the "life lessons" my daughter told me yesterday that she has observed through my experiences:

just because someone may understand the death of a spouse but that doesn't mean they will be nice to you about your own loss.

it can be like high school.

even if people know how bad it is for you, you can be forgotten.

if you bring nothing to the table but your battered soul, people do not have to be kind to you.

my daughter says i am stronger than i feel inside. she said my Dragon would be proud of me. i asked her if she would stay for supper with me last night. she said she would stay but she did not want to take any of my new food. she watched me eat. then she watched me get nauseous. she quickly went to her place and brought back a few packages of Alka-Seltzer for my stomach. it was upset because it wasn't used to actual food like chicken. she stayed with me until it settled down.

and she cried. she misses her "dad." she misses seeing me smile. she says she clings to her husband every night and tells him how much she loves him because she knows i did that with our Dragon. she knows that having the knowledge of that in my memory is what carries me through some really bad days. my Dragon knew how very much i love him. he died within 10 minutes of me having whispered it in his ear.

i am a shadow without a Dragon to stand beside. i am an abandoned soul. we had been abandoned together. two souls tossed out towards the sea who hung together along the rocks.

it is becoming more and more comfortable to accept that he is not going to come back. i will always miss him deeply. i will always grieve for him. no one can take his place. i have no heart anymore. i gave it to him to keep until we are together again. and he is too much of too many things i ever wanted and needed; he is too much my fantasy. i know i will not ever want to date. i write this knowing people might read this and say, "she's speaking too soon."

fine. whatever.

but you didn't know us. you didn't see us together. you didn't see us kiss.

you didn't see us hold hands.

and you didn't see us look into each other's eyes. and smile.

the first time i loved forever

was when you whispered my name.....