beauty among the ruins

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

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

 i love my dogs....

... and my children.....

...and my grandson.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

59 months still.......

since he died, i've crossed paths with quite a few widows and widowers.  i know everyone is on their own journey, feel differently, react differently.  it has been interesting to be the wallflower; to watch everyone, hear from them, hear about them.

so many have done very well.  a great deal have found new loves and married.

very few of the first ones to write to me here are actually still reading or writing anymore.  their lives are busy and reading one widow's blog?  keeping up with her here?  just no incentive anymore.

i'm still here though.  i'm not really in the same place emotionally that i was during that first year, but, to be honest, i am not too far removed from it.

i am still in the same vicinity that i was.  i'm wandering, i guess.

i have thought about this a great deal of late.  i am not still shell-shocked.  he has died.  i have a full-time job and work very hard for my money.  i count pennies very carefully.

i am a new grandmother.  i love that baby and have wonderful ideas of what i can teach him, of just playing with him.  grief has not tainted this blessing.

i do not want to take off my rings.  i do not want to date, or meet anyone.  i do not care about finding a friend anymore.  i am very used to being alone now.  it is not something i would have chosen, but i have grown accustomed to it.  it suits me.

i think if any one of the people who used to read all the time, at the beginning, were to stop by now -- just to see -- they might be concerned, or bored, depending upon how they feel about me.

i am still in month 59 with that 5 year mark - that 60th month - staring at me, glaring at me.  and i feel apprehensive about it.  5 years is a long time.  5 years is nothing compared to.........

i think i'll go to bed and try to sleep.  sleep is a good escape from the impending agony of hitting that 5th year.  

Enoch Arden

it's January of 2014.  that means it's been 4 years, 11 months.  59 months of living without my Dragon.  it feels like a long time.

there are days when i miss him a great deal.  there are days when i think of him and smile.

still, even on the good days, i have fleeting moments of wonder.

where is he?

is he safe and happy?

does he sort of remember me?

it's that whole mystery of death and afterlife introspective journey i take.

i have faith.  i just don't know what really comes next; what it will feel like, be like.

the days get strung together.  i live for my days off.  i get physically tired.

December was hard.  i worked 112 + hour weeks.

the overtime was nice, but getting that run down catches up to you.

i have been melancholy.

i have been evaluating my life.  am i okay?  what do i really feel?

i feel like 59 months is a long time to go without your best friend.

it's a long time to go without holding hands, talking, knowing they are waiting for you when you get off work.

it's a long time.

and it's hardly any time at all depending upon how long i have on this earth.

i'm melancholy and i can't put my finger on it.

i'm doing okay.  paying bills.  holding on.

i love my new grandson.

wish i could see him every single day.

hoping he loves me.

secretly hoping i'm his favorite gramma.  would never say that out loud.

if you met me you would say i have it all together.

i'm funny.  people gravitate to me.

i have some talent with creativity; art stuff.

but if you look into my eyes; when i look in the mirror,

i don't see the me i was when he was here.

i'm less.

i'm sadder.

it's in the eyes.

it's in the moments when i am utterly alone that a voyeur could tell.

i am definitely less than who i was before.

i bow out of things, like at my daughter's baby shower.  i had made this book for people to write things in for her, advice for the new baby.

her mother-in-law had purchased cards for that and stood in front of me to speak to it and pass them out.  i slipped back down in my seat and hid the book i made.  i was embarrassed and a bit hurt.

i had wanted to participate more in my daughter's baby shower but it became her event and i felt left out.  and i stayed out.

i bowed out and let her have it.

i'm low on everyone's list; even my own.

i am, however, very high on the list of two little hearts.

my dogs are my roomies, my cuddle-buddies.

i don't want them to die.  i know they will.

and i know i will react very badly when this happens. i already feel it inside my heart.

 my little Miss Carmen Sophia the Wild Gypsy Girl with the Sensitive Soul is showing signs of her age.  she's my little girl with such a big attitude and a willful spirit.  but she's also a momma's girl.  she loves me so much.  when i finally sit down, she is in my lap in a heartbeat.  she stretches out with a sigh as if she's thinking, "at last.  momma is home and she's mine."

 Mister Scootie Wootums Lord of the Dance with the Stardust Eyes is still a bit more lively, but even he has his moments when i can tell; i can see he no longer has a puppy heart.  he's slowing down.  to this day he goes in search of my Dragon.  he'll go to the closet and get one of my Dragon's shoes and lay with it.  nose inside the shoe sniffing.  if i equate his actions to what a human would do, it breaks me.  it looks so very much like he misses my, our Dragon.

and then there's my new grandson.  such a cutie.  i adore him.  i'm am so ready, so excited about playing with him, reading to him, singing to him, showing him things, but i am careful about what i write in public about that, and what i mentally plan for him and me.  i cannot infringe or overstep.  i dare not intrude on the plans and expectations his other gramma has.  i can't get in the way.

call me Enoch Arden.

{Enoch Arden is an old sea story.  it's the tale of a man who left his wife to go on a two year whaling trip long, long ago.  neither knew she was pregnant with their son when he left.  word came back that a terrible storm broke Enoch's vessel apart and all aboard drowned.  however, Enoch had survived.  he recovered and it took him 5- 7 years, depending upon which version of the story you read, for him to work his way back home.  when he did arrive, he found his wife had married his best friend.  he saw his son.  he also saw the three of them together standing at a memorial to him.  a man who recognized Enoch approached him saying that his "widow" honored his memory; that his son knew who he was, and that his friend was taking good care of the little family.  but he also asked Enoch why he wasn't rushing down to make his presence known.  

Enoch said, "it would destroy the happiness she has found and the security my son knows with my friend.  i cannot do that to them.  please do not tell them i was ever here."

Enoch gained a berth on a ship leaving the harbor that evening never to return.  the man held the story inside himself until Enoch's "widow" had passed and his son had grown and moved away.  then he spoke with awe and reverence of the selfless and heartbreaking decision Enoch made to sacrifice his own happiness to let his family have theirs.}

in an insignificant way, i am a bit like Enoch Arden.

i bow out.

i let others have their way.

i never speak up.

i get my feelings hurt a lot, too.

59 months without him here.

59 months without someone speaking out on my behalf when i never would.

59 months without that certain someone who always knew where i was at all times,

of him waiting for me.

59 months of being without him.

i'm melancholy.

i wish ........

see, funny thing, i don't even know what i wish for.

i'll just bow out now;

before i say too much.

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......