he's here

he's here.  26 december 2013.

he is handsome, sweet, quiet, and perfect as all babies are.

i love him with a quiet, deep emotion that can fill me with awe.

i love my own children with that kind of love.

i hope to be able to teach him things; abstract things like kindness, tolerance, logical deductions, and the profoundness found in books.

i hope to be able to show him rainbows, dew on grass blades, all the different kinds of life at the ocean's edge, and the shadows that play across a flag was it furls and unfurls in a strong breeze.

i hope to be able to answer his questions and give him more questions for us to find out the answers together.

i hope he can grow to love me.

~

it's the last night of 2013.

going to bed early.

no plans.

no one to do anything with.

curl up with my dogs and try to forget the day,

the loneliness, 

my current respiratory illness,

the fact that i have to get up to go to work tomorrow.

i wish i could be with them - my daughter and her new baby.

but he is so new, and i am so sick.

i wish i could talk to my Dragon.

i'd like to be held once more.

i'd like to fall into a deep, restorative sleep in his arms.

i'd like to think he's doing great.

i'd like to think he still loves me

on Christmas Eve ~ for those who have nothing

i can't remember the last time a door was held for me;
that i didn't sleep on a concrete rug,
that people didn't ignore me.
i can't remember what it's like to have your stomach full;
or be as warm as a piece of toast,
or wear tweed, silk, or wool.
i can't remember if i ever really had a home;
a place to settle and sit for a spell,
a place to call my own.

all i have is a shopping cart that's full of memories:
full of things i no longer am,
full of things i used to be.
all i have to keep with me are pictures, quilts, and self;
things to keep me warm inside,
things that have no wealth.
all i have to worry about would horrify you tonight;
the cold, no food, no place to sleep,
the dark, no friends, no light.

i don't have a home anymore.  i live out on the street;
never to cook and clean a place,
never to kick my shoes off my feet.
i don't have a family now.  they are all lost to me;
never to fuss and do for them,
never their faces to see.
i don't have a lot of things, but one thing i do keep;
i have myself to talk to,
i keep myself hidden deep.

i need help from time to time, and sometimes it works out;
some people are a Godsend,
some people are ignorant louts.
i need to be allowed to have my dignity and my space.
don't tell me what i should have done.
don't put me in my place.
i need to know someone's aware i'm still a human being;
with hopes and dreams of my own,
with awareness that my life may have meaning.

i want someone to remember that i'm out here when it snows;
or whenever the weather turns awful with rain,
or whenever it's cold and bad, you know?
i want someone to remember to care about whatever happens to me;
to care about where i am,
to care enough to come see.
i want someone to remember that i'm alone out on the street;
to understand that i'm afraid,
to understand that i'm beat.

i think that people everywhere should try to visualize;
what it's like to be without,
what it's like to be despised.
i think if they could understand how life goes wrong for some;
they wouldn't treat us like trash,
they wouldn't act as if we're dumb.
i think if people could remember that Our Lord helped people like me;
then they'd find Christ in themselves,
then they'd see Christ in me.

"the Lord bless you and keep you.  the Lord make His face shine on you, and be gracious to you.  the Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace."  ~ Numbers 6:25.

flashlight in the dark

i lay there and hope it's not real; that i'm not really awake again/still.

if i use the flashlight it will only be for a little while.

it's not for long.

i'm not getting up but i do have things on my mind that i need to get off my mind.

writing them down will help.

bad nights wear me out but they are productive.

when i do this the dogs move closer to me.  they cuddle.

first it's, "does she suddenly have a snack?"

then they know.

you can almost see it pass between them.

"you think she's cold?"

"yeah.  she's pretty miserable.  let's make a mommy sandwich."

so they deepen their cuddle.  i can feel their bodies squirm and twist as they snuggle down to get still closer to me.

he was always so warm.  i never wore socks to bed.  he would keep my feet between his legs.  or i would move my feet close and he would capture them to warm them.  he always knew.

and he burned so brightly.  he was always so warm to the touch.

Lord, i miss him.

i'd love to talk to him, have him embrace me and lend me some of his confidence, his bravado, that something-something that he had that kept him going on the worst days, his worst days when he was a Marine trying to survive and get home.

Lord, i really do miss him.

so under that soft light, i write what's on my mind.

a fantasy grocery list for a day when i have enough money to go.

things i need to take care of at work.

things i want to remember.

thoughts i have.

like this blog.

little notes to myself because i don't want to forget.

secret things that the cold light of day would diminish.

Christmas is coming.  i have worries.

busy time/stressful time for retail people.

worried about meeting the new higher rent that will start up on Jan. 1.

i wish things had turned out differently.  and i am glad certain things didn't.

but writing them down on a scrap of paper lit by a flashlight in the dark seems to make them more manageable.  it makes it seem like maybe i'm coming up with a plan to deal with them.

like maybe, just maybe, by some form of Grace, i might survive this.

grief is not a dirty word

i haven't written in a long while for me.  i haven't known what to say though my mind is whirling with thoughts i want to express.  i've also been very busy at work and very tired at the end of each day.

a few postings ago someone left a comment saying i am clinically depressed and need to be under a doctor's care.

it scared me.  it angered me.

it scared me because i am sad at losing my husband, still, and it's been over 4 years.  i started second-guessing what i know best.  me.  i do not think i am clinically depressed.  what i am is frightened at my precarious financial position and wishing with all my heart to be with him; to be with my friend, my husband, someone i feel {felt} safe with.

depressed?  i think at some time or other we all get depressed.  and it's not for a few days.  it can be a winding road if you are going through a major life change, like the death of a loved one.   i am not clear on why there is a deadline on being over a death.  why is it so many people think there is a clear demarcation line for grieving to be over with it.

grief is not a dirty word.  i can think of other words that are worse.

my son died 31 years ago at the age of 19 weeks.  i still think about him.  i would say, yeah, i still grieve over him.  i went on to have 2 other children.  i laughed.  i cried.  i lived.  but i still think about him.  i have a little fuzzy star that hung over his crib tied to my bedpost.  it plays "Twinkle twinkle little star."  it's 31 years old.  it's stained.  tears mostly.  very old tears.  and yes, after 31 years, i will turn the tiny key to hear it play a few notes.  maybe once or twice a year.  not every night.  but, yes, i still play that little start, and tears do come to my eyes.

am i clinically depressed over his death?  no.  i am a mother who holds his memory dear and i miss him.  i miss what he could have become.  i miss.........i miss him.  i still grieve his passing.

do i need pills to balance the chemicals in my brain?  i think this person misunderstands this blog.  i think they misunderstand the freedom, the release that comes from writing.  i can be honest here, express the real feelings i have that go through my mind.  i can get it all off my chest, out of my mind.  i can expunge the poison.   

depressed?  maybe.  possible.  but a danger to myself?  no.  i know i am not.  i suffer.  i grieve for what was.  i miss him.  i need his advice, his humor, his confidence that everything will be okay; but i do not need to take pills to get over feeling this way.  why would i want to sidestep grief and the deep honor of working through it, however long it takes?

and yet, am i wrong?  i am clinically depressed?  is my analysis of my own feelings so far off base?

it angered me.  that someone would think from the few postings they may have read, that they can diagnose someone else.  how sure of themselves and yet, how can someone be that sure of themselves.  how can they truly know, just from what i've written here?  they do not see my eyes.  they do not hear the timbre of my voice.  they do not know me.  they do not see me at work, how i handle customers, babies, small children.  they do not see me as a manager of a store handling with confidence the multitude of things a manager has to do.

they do not know me and it would take a fairly confidence ego to judge someone, and then label them.  words are difficult to retract.  once they are out there.........it's like snatching air.  you can't.

there will always be people who think they understand, and understand better than you do, what you wrote about yourself, think about yourself.

what about just letting it be words that need to get out; expressions of feelings that need to be released, that should be heard.  once you shine a light on something, some shadow; once you see it for what it is and name it {i'm calling it grief.  i'm calling it worry over a difficult financial situation} then it sometimes ceases to be as frightening.  sometimes when you start to explain it to someone else, something dawns on you that might help.  an epiphany can strike and things are not as bad as they seem.  or if they are as bad, you as least can now write up a battle plan to survive it.

and sometimes a blog is just a blog.  i am a writer by nature.  i am a creative person.  i paint.  i sew.  i write.  i take photographs.  i design and make stained glass windows.  i feel deeply.  always have.  for the most part a creative soul is also a tortured soul.

i wouldn't trade who i am, who i know myself to be, what i feel, how deeply i feel, who i've known, and who i've lost - i wouldn't trade the ride i'm on for anything.

and i certainly won't numb it, hide it, mask it, or color it any less vibrantly with pills.

i'll be happy when i feel happy.  i'll feel sad when i am sad.

right now, tonight, i am melancholy.

i am strong enough to let myself feel weak.  i am strong enough to allow myself some time here and there to wallow.  i am smart enough to know that pouring out my heart and soul here is so much better than keeping it bottled up and swallowing it down with some pills and a glass of water.

i am a human being who has lost some people she has loved dearly and dearly wish had loved her more.  we all have to figure out how to deal with grief at some point in our lives.  meeting it head on and accepting the winding road, the roller coaster part of it, and the lingering reverberations of the pain death caused us is what adds the beautiful darker, cooler blues and violets to the palette of our lives.

having him, losing him at 19 weeks.  i wouldn't have missed it for the world.
marrying my Dragon.  losing him.  i wouldn't have missed it for the world.

no pills.  no fake sunshine and no false happiness.  i miss them both.

i won't get over it but i do have a handle on it.

my life.  my journey.  my way.

it's after 1 AM.  i'm going to bed now.  i will lay my head down on my pillow.  tonight, i will reach up in the darkness of my room to find a soft little star.  my fingers will find the tiny silver key in it's back and i will twist it a couple, maybe three times. a soft little song will play.  it's a song everyone knows.  very familiar.


"twinkle, twinkle little star.  how i wonder what you are?  up above the world so high.  like a diamond in the sky.  twinkle, twinkle little star.  how i wonder what you are?"

in my heart it plays:  "how i wonder how you are."

there is no pill on earth that can mask that kind of pain nor would i want it to.  he deserves to be remembered.  even after 31 years.  or another 31.
my Dragon deserves to be remembered and missed no matter how long......

the answer was "no."

update on the living thing - on the rent going up and i hope i can save myself living situation thing.

their answer was "no."

Bunny has to try and get this all figured out, but she's not alone.  she's got the best friends there ever could be with her, staying by her side through shattered dreams and tear-filled nights.

that's more than a lot of others get to have.

but she knows, oh, Bunny knows that

life isn't going to be kind to her;

not just yet.

*sigh*

say "yes"

so i deleted my previous post.  thank you to those who meant well.

i got a horrendous lengthy comment that made me mad so i close the door what what i said.

i guess grief blogs aren't what they used to be.

going to keep it less personal which i think defeats the purpose of a grief blog.

in the early stages, i would read others and not feel so alone.  they were saying what i was feeling.

but now, well, i will still speak my truth, just not all of it.

slumpy Bunny is back.  things aren't going great.

 i didn't get the manager's job that i've been doing for a month.  "do it for one more month.  we've hired someone to take care of both stores.  instead of paying 2 people larger salaries we're paying one person a salary and a half."

so i'm acting manager for one more month on an assistant manager pay and then i'm back at my store. 

i cried.  my feelings were hurt.

i've workd so hard.

and i'm scared.

my rent is going up.  i can't afford to live here anymore.  the place i moved into 3 days after he died and i can't afford to live here anymore.

i have asked {read almost "begged"} to be allowed to rent a room in my son-in-law's grandmother's house.

i would pay less rent there and would do all the housework, plus all the yard work, plus keep my 40 hour a week job to have money and health care.  my dogs could keep her company while i am at work and i would be her companion when i am "home" and on my days off.  i would take care of her so she can live longer in her own home.  my son-in-law's mother said this is a win-win for them, but she has to ask her brother and sister.  so i am waiting for that conversation and for their approval.

i hope they all agree; that they all think it's a win-win.

and they know me.  my daughter is having their grandson/great grandson.

i hope they say "yes" very soon.

my stomach is in knots over the uncertainty of it all.

if i had enough money i would get me a little cabin type place i think.

and it would house all my books.  like below.

cool photograph, huh?

 and this photo is a blast from a long past blog entry....

the Saracen Tower.

i still think about a place like it.  i could be safe in a place like this.

no one could get me.

i know you're wondering why i think of safety and preventing no one from getting me.

it's a crazy story but simple one.

i've been "gotten to" a lot by some not nice people.

all i want; all i've ever wanted is a quiet life.  peaceful.  i want to breathe.

i want to live out my days in safety....from money trouble and criticism and judgements.

just let me work and go home do what needs to be done to deserve to live in a little home with a nice elderly lady.

i could sit and sew with my dogs and keep her company.

i don't need a Saracen Tower.

i don't need a cabin.

i'd whittle down my life to a little room at the end of a hallway,

in a home where i take care of the housework and yard work.

i'd be so safe in that one little room at the end of the hallway,

and i'd work so hard to make it a happy place and a place of acceptance

for me and the lovely lady who lives there.

fingers crossed.  stomach in turmoil waiting to be approved.

i hope they say "yes" very, very soon.  i'm a nice Bunny who needs a home.

i'm a scared Bunny who needs a little help.  i would work so hard.

all they have to do is say "yes."

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........