a rumor of angels

in 1832, five years after Beethoven's death, a German critic compared the sonata to the effect on Lake Lucerne, and the interpretation became so popular that, by the end of the century, the piece was universally known as the "Moonlight Sonata." Beethoven himself had attributed the emotion of the piece to sitting at the bedside of a dear friend who had suffered an untimely death.

my beloved Dragon died on the full moon. widely known if you've read my missives before.

i had yesterday off from work and today. miraculous as i have been working week after week straight through with maybe one or two days off a month. the moon is coming full. that's it tonight up there in the big photo. the last two days i've been cleaning out files. i deleted my Dragon's email account, personal and business. there just is no need to keep them up anymore. it's not a step forward. it's just a step. maintenance of my life. i also wrote out everything my children will need to know for when i die. more maintenance of my life. making it easier to clean up after me.

in going through files, tossing things out, i found his EKG strip from the night he died. i didn't know i had it. i don't know why they thought i would want it. the strip no more verifies his death to me than the death certificate. his absence alone is enough for me.

i love him. i thought about it again when someone came into the store and casually asked when i would ever take off my rings. this man's sister had taken hers off 3 months after her husband died. she put herself on the dating websites at 6 months. she has been married and divorced twice since her husband died. it will be two years for her April 1. his off-the-cuff casual remark was, "i mean, God bless her, at least she's trying to move on." he was a customer and i had to treat this forced upon me conversation with care, but i did manage to say, "maybe the reason she's had two divorces is she is looking for her husband in every man she meets. it is possible that she is moving on in the wrong direction, or too fast."

it never ceases to amaze me how people feel they can impose their judgments upon strangers. now it has become water off a duck's back. i let it slide off me without leaving a dent. after 3 years of this, of failing at every attempt at grief groups and talking to people, i just let it go and go my own way. there's no one to really sit and talk this out with, not for any long kind of conversation, or frequent one where the whole story gets told in confidence.

parts of it are floating around out there in places where it will never come together in any significant way to help me get past it faster. so i am taking this journey sort of on my own.

"lead, kindly light, amid th'encircling gloom,

lead thou me on;

the night is dark, and i am far from home;

lead thou me on;

keep thou my feet; i do not ask to see

the distant scene - one step enough for me." ~ John Henry Neuman

i do sort of look for signs that i have help. angels. i have two cameras at my ready hand because of two angels. Sandy and Dan. i have a job i work hard at and am recognized as "Bunny" by my co-workers who have given me positive reinforcement. angels all.

i have my two fuzzy puppies who love me and need me. i am needed. two fuzzy angels.

i work very hard at my sewing. i have talent with a needle that is not common. it is appreciated by those who have asked for my work. they are angels for giving me something else to work on.

i do not worry anymore about living up to the expectations of others. i will never meet it. i need to feel comfortable. i need to feel safe. i. me. i do not have the strength to make legions happy. i do not have the desire. my strength is saved to fight the spiritual battles of my nights. and the nights that hit me during the day. i am older now and physical strength is allocated for stamina at work.

"one aspect of deep grief is loss of imagination. one cannot imagine a time when one is not in pain.

how many times have i sabotaged myself by leaping ahead of my own healing process, trying so desperately to 'feel better' that i make myself feel even worse because i have added to my primary pain the new complication of failure. in cheating myself of the necessary time to feel bad i have cheated myself of the only process that could really heal me. ultimately, the only way to get through something is to get through it - not over, under, or around it, but al the way through it. an it takes as long as it takes." ~ Alla Bozarth-Campbell, Ph.D
"not a day passes over the earth, but men and women of no note do great deeds, speak great words, and suffer noble sorrows." ~ Charles Reade

my Dragon was a great man. no one could take note of his deeds for they were done in secret. his patriotism left no mark that anyone can point to and say, "he fixed that," "he saved them," and "he helped the world." all secrets. all being pushed into a file to be forgotten forever.

he spoke great words ~ of love to me, of dreams he wanted to see fulfilled, of sweet nothings that mean everything to a woman like me.

he suffered in silence the pains in his body from living a lifetime as a warrior. his death was a sneak attack.

have there been signs from him? i don't know and i do let myself think maybe, just maybe. it could also be my guardian angel. maybe there is something else for me to do. some lasting legacy i need to finish. more quilts. more sewing. more heart ceremonies. more growing up to do. more penance for a misspent life, or.....

maybe there is more beauty for me to see: clouds, moons, grandchildren ~ graces all.

i still miss him. i still love him. i still wear my rings. i still talk to him every day. i still talk about him if someone asks, only if someone asks. my life is a lonely one without him here at night, in the dark, in bed.

i know humans can never become angels, but maybe there is an angel who represents my husband who comes in during the night to sit and watch over me. maybe that angel was the one who gave me the strength to slowly move my hand over the can, slowly open my fingers holding that strip of paper, that EKG with the little flat line all the way across it, and then turn away and not watch it fall into the trash.

"the sight of stars always sets me dreaming just as naively as those black dots on a map set me dreaming of towns and villages. why should those points of light in the firmament, i wonder, be less accessible than the dark ones on a map of France? we take a train to go to Tarascon or Rouen and we take death to go to a star." ~ Vincent Van Gogh referring to his painting, "Starry Night."

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.

it's a mad world

so 3 years has come and gone. 3 years.

Valentine's Day has passed. it was hard.

i worked a long day and came home thinking about him, remembering that 3 years ago i was on the road to here,

from there.

my daughter was driving me away from home to here, which is supposed to be home,

and in certain ways it is,

but in the most elemental, most meaningful way,

it is not.

i realize i am searching for home. i search for it online with pictures of places i would like to live in, decorating that i would do. i find places i can only dream about.

i check out magazines that have pictures of houses and rooms i want to live in.

i see beds i'd like to sleep in.

i sometimes think, "i could do this better, do life better, if i had a bit more money. i could endure this without him if i had my own home."

i want to paint walls and spread out a little more than i can in this one bedroom apartment.

i want, i want, i want. i desire things. but they are all beyond my reach so i dream and cut photos and take pictures off the 'net to keep,

and look at,

and dream.

it's crazy out there in the real world. i have to be alert and focused and happy, happy, upbeat at work. but when i get home, i let myself collapse. i am tired. there are some very odd people out there. there are some different parenting styles that make me weep for the world.

today ~

a child wanted to stuff his bear right at that minute. there were two girls in front of him. i told him he was next. he said he wanted the two girls to die right then. he was 5. this is the second time this has happened this month.

today ~

a parent could not control her daughter who screamed for everything. screamed at decibel levels that went through everyone's collective heads like a nail. everyone vanished and i was left to deal with them. they drove other guests from the store. the mother was harried. she pleaded with her child to stop "being so bad." the child screamed, and i quote, "you have a boyfriend. i'll tell daddy." this child ran and ran and ran through the store tearing it apart.

i admit. i could not take it anymore. so i stood in front of the child and blocked her. she ran into me. it hurt. it stopped her long enough for me to say, "stop running. you'll fall. and now that i have your attention, do not throw out things on the floor."

she cursed me out, ran off to the back of the store laughing.

i turned to the mother and said, "you need to leave our store. your daughter has driven all our guests from the store. the store is a shambles. if you do not leave i will have to call security."

the mother took her child by the arm and left the store. it took me and another girl 45 minutes to set to rights what this child tore up. she was 12.

today ~

a parent rewarded her son for finally getting out of diapers. she said he liked being taken care of and that it had been a struggle for her to get him to want to be independent. i was a little taken aback. the boy smirked, yes, i deliberately chose that word, he smirked and said, "why should i do it when she was gonna do it for me." the boy is turning 8 in May.

today ~

a grandfather scared one of the young women who works at the store to death by threatening her job for not getting the coupon he had given her to go through the register. i heard the threats and went straight over and told the girl she could go take a quick break. i took the coupon and checked it to see why it would not run. it had expired in 2010. i told the man and he said, "run it again." i said, "no, sir. it will not run if i ran it 10,000 times. it has expired and the software won't accept it."

"give me my discount."

"no, sir. i cannot."

"i will get you fired."

"no, sir. you cannot. what i will do for you is give you another coupon worth $5. it's not the $10 off you want, but what i will also do for you is NOT call mall security and tell them you used physical and verbal intimidation on a 20 year old girl. do you accept these terms?"

he did. the grandfather turned to his grandson and said, "that's how you have to treat these women. see? grandpa got you $5 off."

it was a tough day today with some very difficult people. it's no wonder that i don't come back here and dream of a place that's all my own, a place i can say reflects my soul.

i miss him. i wonder when i'll feel stronger, or less tired at the end of my work day. when i finally crawl into bed, i am utterly defeated and exhausted. but i do have my moments of bliss. a new bunny is coming out. looking forward to that. getting the surprise visit from Lucy. the flowers from SSSF. my son surprise calling me on the phone in the middle of the week. sitting down crying only to have my two dogs leap up into my lap and stare at me, paw at me, and lick my face.

i miss him and i wonder,

if he could see me,

from wherever he is,

what would he think of me now?

art in Bunny's apartment

Bunny has been asked about her headboard and another painting that was glimpsed in one of her photos.

well, here they are. these are up in Bunny's apartment. just makes it more homey to her. little bohemian. but that's Bunny.

the shark is painted on a board that was a table in a little camper she had once in a lifetime that is now far, far away.

the headboard was my daughter's when she was a little girl. i painted it with dolphins and a storm coming across the ocean. there is a sperm whale in a life and death battle with a giant squid. this is based on a story that "gran'pa" told us. nothing about grief this time. just a little insight into Bunny's little bohemian life.

Green Frog

a length of green fuzzy fabric and some fuzzy fabric were laid out and stamped with a pattern. they were cut and sewn together. big plastic eyes were inserted and anchored down. two red hearts were machine embroidered on a yellow foot and lastly a red ribbon with gold hearts stamped on was tied around his neck. and voila, a silly green frog was made to sell for Valentine's Day 2009.

he was put in a box with other green frogs and shipped to the airport in Atlanta, Georgia where he was put on display in a store in the Southwest Airlines terminal for a quick and easy gift for a passing traveler.

he waited patiently. his big, friendly eyes wistfully tried to lock on to passersby. Valentine's Day was approaching. there was a narrow window of opportunity to attract a buyer and he was determined to find himself a home.

fate waved a hand over the world and circumstances were set in motion that put a young man in the terminal on Monday, February 9th. he was tall and very handsome, but he looked grim. Green Frog thought maybe he was worried about a girl. he said to himself, "hey, maybe a silly green frog would be just the thing to take to his girl." and he sat up straighter, smiled brighter, and let his eyes shine with his gentle inner light; the light that all stuffed animals carry inside when they hope and pray they find a good home with someone who will love them.

the young man sat down across from the store and stared at nothing. his thoughts were deeply dark and secret. his body was restless as he waited to board the plane. suddenly the young man's gaze lifted up and into the store. he spotted Green Frog. getting up he walked into the store to stand and stare at him. Green Frog shifted just a little to draw attention to himself. he repeated a little mantra to himself, "i have a purpose. there is a reason for my being created. Valentine's is coming and i am important. he will pick me."

and the young man did. with a grim face and sad eyes he lifted the green frog into his arms and carried him to the register, bought him, and stuck him in his carryon.

Green Frog didn't mind being stuffed into the bag. he was flexible. and he knew he wasn't meant for the young man. he was obviously meant for a girl. no young man could look that sad before Valentine's Day and not be worried over a girl. Green Frog was almost giddy as he knew, just knew, he was a gift of love. and what greater gift is there than love?

he felt the plane land. he felt the bag with him inside being put in a car and felt the motion of the car for a while. then suddenly the car stopped and the bag was hurriedly unzipped. he was yanked out and held by the young man who was now with a young woman. the two of them walked to a door. they knocked on the door and Green Frog smiled his biggest smile. he wasn't meant for the young woman standing next to him. he was meant for the girl who would answer the door.

the girl wasn't what Green Frog expected.

she was older. she was the mother of these two. and she was crying. her face was pale and strained with the heavy burden of some great sadness. when the young man handed Green Frog to the woman, she looked at him for a moment and then hugged him very tightly. she buried her face in his green fuzzy fur getting him wet with her tears.

he snuggled close into her embrace so that she would feel comfort. oh, the poor woman. something was making her so sad; and so close to Valentine's Day. well, Green Frog would make her smile again. he was sure of it.

the days leading up to Valentine's passed and each day he was left on the bed. but each night, the woman hugged him tightly and cried. Green Frog was feeling terrible. he wasn't making any headway with the sad woman. he couldn't understand how she could not smile at his adorable, smiling, fuzzy face. but each night while he was being held, he snuggled close to the woman. and if she slept at all, he slide his soft little arms around her so she might feel his presence and maybe feel better.

the day before Valentine's, Green Frog watched the woman and her children leave. he waited and waited for them to come back. when they did, he finally realized why his woman was so sad. she carried an urn and she carried a folded American flag. oh, gosh. oh, Lord. she was a widow. he, a perfectly pleasant Valentine Frog had been given to a weeping widow. he wasn't meant to be a reminder of love. he would be a reminder of love lost. oh, no. he wasn't trained for this. he didn't know what to do.

Valentine's Day arrived and Green Frog waited and watched. the little family was obviously going somewhere that morning. he watched them all get ready. his woman held the urn and the folded flag in what could only be called a lover's embrace. as they were about to leave, his woman asked her daughter to bring him. he was grabbed by the leg and put in the car.

the little family went to the funeral for his woman's husband. so sad. he sat in the car while they went into the church and left him in the car, but he knew what was going on. sadness. tears. lost love. and on Valentine's Day. such a bad thing to have happen on Valentine's Day. his woman will always remember that her husband had his funeral service on this day of days, this day of flowers and hearts, and love.

after the funeral Green Frog was put in a moving truck and his woman and her daughter drove for two days. there was such heaviness in these two women's hearts. he felt terrible. he was supposed to represent romance and love and frivolity, wasn't he? instead he was a gift of sorrow. he had hearts embroidered on his little foot. he was smiling all the time. he was supposed to be for romance and happiness. instead, inside him, his heart was breaking.

eventually they arrived. everything was unpacked. the daughter was setting her mother up in a tiny apartment. Green Frog understood that this was to be his woman's new life. alone. silent, so silent. and sad.

each night his woman held him and cried. at first she cried every single night. eventually she stopped crying every night but it took months and months. but every night, when his woman laid down in bed and pulled the quilts up over her, after her little dogs settled their furry bodies near their "mom," she would reach for him. his woman would reach for him and hold him in her arms. sometimes she would sigh heavily. sometimes she would say her prayers out loud. and sometimes, even now, she would, she will, put her face in his fur and cry for her lost love.

and Green Frog was always there waiting for her.

he had been created for one thing. Valentine's Day. but as it turned out, he was meant for something else. he had thought he was made for romance, but he had been made for forever love. he had thought he had been made for fun, but he now meant for a higher purpose. he had thought his purpose in life was frivolity. it was not. he was meant to offer comfort. he was something soft and safe to hold onto in the darkest and loneliest part of his woman's grief.

his dreams of being a special Valentine's frog had not come true. but then, neither had his woman's dreams come true. or maybe they had, but for far too short a time.

but one thing came true. he was important. he was needed and desired. he had a home where he was loved and held and cherished. this was the reason he had been created.

his name was Green Frog, but sometimes, every once in a while, his woman called him Carl. she held him tightly every single night. and he was there for her and would be for all the nights left to her.

and every single night he would whisper to her, "happy Valentine's Day." he does this because he knows Carl would want him to.

p.s. and no worries about Green Frog. his woman's daughter has already promised that Green Frog will come and live with her after his woman passes to be with her beloved.

3

see that main photo up there? that's Beach Bunny with her Home Buns. {omgosh i can't believe i typed that. it's the antibiotic talking. and the hot tea. and the mist from the humidifier. and the, oh give it up. i'm just a silly woman who loves her Bunny and the comfort that she brings.}

Bunny came back from work to find flowers from SSSF, his new fiancee, and his daughter. thank you. she was dragging her weary white tail up the stairs to her door in the fading light and there they sat.

bright. cheerful. but more importantly, they were whispering that someone remembered and understands.
Bunny got lots of very nice comments on her Facebook posting about what yesterday and today means to her.

she's moody tonight. teary.

yep, very teary, but not breaking down into sobs.

see that photo below? he was laughing at Bunny. and he was signing. "i love you." he could tell i was zooming in on him. he was just back from being "out-of-town." his stomach was all bandaged up from being shot. such a Marine. he called it being "nicked." "hi, honey. i'm on my way home. got the job done. oh, got nicked. nothing major."
he was so happy to be home. he was so funny when he was mending. "it's not as bad as it looks. i've had worse done. well, you remember last fall." {yeah, Baby, i do. and i love you so much. now just rest and i'm going out to take these shots for the magazine. they've already paid me for them. i need them off by Sunday.} "wait up. i'm coming with you."

so i told him to just stand up on the rocks while i went down to where i needed to set up the tripod. and there he was. enjoying the day. enjoying being home with me beside the ocean.

enjoying being alive.

and now he is the shadow man of my dreams. he is the rising sun and the setting sun. he is the moon at night and the stars in the sky. he is the wind in my hair and the warmth of the day on my skin. he is the end all be all of my life.

he is my Dragon and i am forever his.

1095 days {blind faith}

{the 8th/9th will be 3 years. i've already written this post for those dates. i'm going to be swamped with work after today, my only day off, until after Valentine's Day. if you will pardon the expression, i'm buried in work. so i'm posting my 3 year missive today.}

it feels longer. it feels like forever. and then it hits me. again. he's never coming back.

i don't know if the shock has worn off yet. i guess it has, but i keep getting hit over and over. he's gone. i'm not going to be seeing him again.

he always seemed invincible. he was so hard and rough. he was a Marine. Force Recon. he was a sniper. he would be gone, but then he would come back to me. sometimes, when he would be gone, i would curl up in a ball on the bed and sob with worry that he would be lost out there in the world and they would not be able to bring him back to me; not be able to retrieve his body. the places they sent him to, the things he did, he couldn't tell me. i just knew from the look in his eyes and the additional scars on his body.

he hurt outside, and inside. he would hold me and ask for absolution.

i heard this soliloquy. i wrote it down as fast as i could. i hit me so hard when i heard it. it made me think of my Dragon.

spies live in the shadows but they dream of the light. when you work in covert ops for low pay and in life threatening conditions, the idea that your work won't remain secret forever keeps you going. one day, the world will learn what you've done even if your name is never known. some of the sweetest moments come when the job ends and the bullets stop flying ~ that is unless one of those bullets rips through your chest.

he always got home to me, even if bullets did rip through him, and believe me they did. and knives. i would take care of him and he would heal. and for that space and time, we were one.

and then he would go back out again. and our one was split; two halves separated waiting to be rejoined. and i would take care of him again. we would hold each other and his body would shake with sobs that would never come to the surface. he wanted absolution. he craved salvation for things he did for his country that he could never speak about.

i love him. i will always be in love with him. i feel like i am living without air. i've learned to breathe underwater because he would want me to. new life. new location. new job. all without him. all so different. like i am on another planet.
what we had together......the things i could tell you......the way he was with me. i don't know if it was rare. it was rare for me to be loved at all. and his devotion, that was all so new to me, to be cherished like that. and short. such a short time to be with the person i was meant to be with. the only one. my only love.

he is gone now and it has shaken me to my soul. what does it mean to die? where did he go? Heaven? Purgatory? no one can answer me on this. i hope no one tries. when i close my eyes and die, will he be there? we all say it to each other, "he's waiting for you." and we mean it from the bottom of our hearts. we want to offer comfort and reassure each other that the one person we connected with here is waiting for us there. but do we, in the dark of our own grief, fully believe and embrace it to the point where we no longer have any doubts when we are on our own? ever? even when we are very tired or stressed?

is he happy? does he remember me? is he safe?

we never really know how much we believe in something, or trust it, until it is tested. i always believed, you die, you go to Heaven, or Hell, and most certainly i have tried to be a good girl. but how narrow is that opening to get into Heaven? do snipers get in? do widows who grieve and ask questions, and have doubts get in?

i always trusted that, if you were good, you got into Heaven. it was supposed to comfort the grief-stricken. but now that belief has been tested with the death of my Dragon. i am finding myself worrying at times, in both the day and in the dark, about Heaven, and if God loves us enough. have i been good enough? have i said enough prayers? have i been humble enough?

all i can do is keep going. keep praying. and hold on to a faith so blind that i am stumbling a bit.

a woman wrote me yesterday through one of my hubpages articles. she is terribly worried and wanted to know what i thought about something. her father had died and she is grieving for him. her Aunt says her grief is out of proportion and that she is keeping her father's soul from entering Heaven by "calling him back with your grief." i wrote to her and gave her my opinion in a gentle and delicate, and faith-based way with full consideration to her feelings. but between you and me here, in a nutshell, i gave her the long version of this: i told her her Aunt was a poisonous bitch who was either stupid or cruel.

i hate cruelty. there is absolutely no reason for it. none.

i made a Bunny for the Grief Project. i sent her off believing i would never seen her again. but one day she appeared at my door. she came to visit me through my Dragon Days. is this a small sign? is grasping at straws and calling them signs a sin?
she brought a card signed by people i have never met. it said i could lean awhile. the little girl on the left, the one who's leaning, her expression......that bewildered, slightly hurt, little bit fearful expression is one i mask every day i leave the apartment.
but i did. i leaned on Lucy. i cried and could not speak. i cried and finally spoke.
i talked about my fears. i talked about my worries. i talked about my Dragon, my now immortal beloved.

my Dragon has left me here alone, testing my belief in Heaven, leaving me here with only blind faith. and i am so very blind.

the only thing i have is a song.

exactly on the nose 24 hours after he died, a radio that had never played before turned itself on and played Sarah MacLachlan's "Angel." to be precise the chorus played: "in the arms of the angels far away from here....."

that song is all i have really have to cling to, that and blind faith ~ the biggest test of all.

it's a very pretty song.