"forgive life"

Bunny hasn't been around of late.  if you remember, she's retired.  her mom, me, no longer works at Build-A-Bear - sad, sad thing with her store closing for economic reasons.

now i sell children's shoes.  tough life there.  been written of.  no need to rehash.  nothing's changed.

but Bunny wanted to write to all of her readers.  she's never spoken before, written in her own words.  she's always allowed me to speak to her life.  but she wanted to - for the first time ever.  so here she is:  the Bun

hi.  it's me, Beach Bunny, Bunny, or just the Bun.  it's been quite the adjustment being left at home now.  i hate to see mom go off alone, out there in the world.  she has to drive so very far from home.  and i worry, especially when she has to close the store and it gets really late at night.

 one night she didn't get home until after 2 in the morning.

she was so tired and, here's a secret.  it was the first time i actually slept with mom.

she usually has me sit in my special place on my special pillow beside her bed, next to Dragon,

but she was so tired that night, and filled, literally filled to the brim with anxiety, that she held me close, and cried a bit, and had me sleep with her.

i comforted her all night.  after she was finally asleep, i whispered out loud in her ear so her heart could hear, about how much i love her.  about how much her children love her, and especially about how much her Dragon loves her.

so what does a Bun do alone in the home?

ears up and i help my mom.  i vacuum for her and i plump pillows.

 i take care of my pony friends my mom made. i love them so much.  they are a fun group

and we run around the apartment like crazy chasing mom's scotties.  exercise is very important. 

 i have quiet times, too, sitting and reading to my own little puppy, Snowball.

 and i wait for my mom to come home, home where she's loved and is safe.

see my eyes?  see the anxiousness i hold in my heart when she is gone?

i'm going to tell you something, maybe it's a secret, i'm not sure, but mom read this short story.

mom reads to try and relax and she's going through a lot of old books of hers.  Oscar Wilde is a favorite.  she just reread "The Canterville Ghost" because, as she told me, "Bun, there is poetry hidden in the prose."

her favorite part of the book is Sir Simon's soliloquy about death.

"Death must be so beautiful.  To life in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to the silence.  To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow.  To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace."

 mom read that part to me out loud and then she was quiet, not reading, not talking, just thinking.  and then she said this to me, "i miss him, Bunny.  i think about him all the time.  i'm not sure if i'm supposed to, or if i am to fight that.  but i can't fight any longer.  i'm not a fighter by nature.  i'm a re-router.  i do things my own way.  i have to.  'to thine own self be true.'  Shakespeare told the truth on that one. you can't lie to yourself.'

i stared at her in my own inscrutable way and she said, "no, i'm not thinking about dying dying, like, you know, dying, but i do think about being with him when my time comes.  and i think about being at peace.  i'm searching for it and i have come to sort of believe that peace is our journey, or at least it's mine.  i have moments of peace, but not a life of peace.  i wonder if anyone does.  i do have things that i am upset about - things that have happened to me throughout my life and that's the part of Sir Simon's speech i was thinking about.  forgiving life.  'to forgive life.'  i need to try and do that."

so i have spilled the beans.  mom is a deep thinker.  she is always trying to be a better person as she calls it.  and she is always thinking philosophically.  about everything.  even me.

which is why she went ahead and let me write this time.

because mom and me, we're sympatico.  we're kindred souls.

just like her and her Dragon.

btw, he's a truly lovely person.  i know that for a fact.  i've met him; seen him when he checks in on mom.  she doesn't know.  she's not really looking for signs.  she doesn't think she deserves them so she doesn't anticipate them.  but being the Bun, you know, THE BUN, i have that special gift.  

i've become Real, as in "The Velveteen Rabbit" Real.  and with becoming real, you get special gifts.

seeing the Dragon is one of them.

so to anyone out there who grieves, i hope you believe me when i say this. 

you are loved.

you are watched over.

you are being waited on.  {or for.  i can never get that one right.}

as mom sometimes writes,

peace to all who read.

peace and light to all who grieve.

the hug

there is this thing we did that i miss.

we would hug.

or more than hug, by definition, but it was a hug.

 we hugged like people imagine a hug, but we also did this one other thing,

do it this one other way.

i have had a life of being starved for human contact, for the need of being touched.

my parents did not touch us, my brother and me.  they were not affectionate people.

my grandparents would hug us, hold our hands, but our parents did not.

and oddly now that i think of it, our grandparents did not touch us in front of our parents.

my first husband hated being touched.  he hated touching me

he told me once to never touch him.  so i was very careful if we stood in close proximity.

no holding hands.  no sitting on the sofa together.  no touching.

he slept in a different bedroom and for 15+ years, i was not touched by him.

as my children grew up, i kept holding their hands, ruffling their hair, kissing their cheeks,

and hugging them.

i never wanted them to feel alone in the world.

 i never wanted them to feel worthless, or like there was something wrong with them.

there is nothing wrong with wanting a hug, or wanting to hold someone's hand.

my Dragon liked touching me.

he would hold my hand.

he would hug me.

but he would also do this one other thing.

i would lay down on the bed and he would lay down on top of me and hold me.

i would feel his big body pressing down on me.

he would nuzzle my neck and whisper in my ear,

"i love you.  you are mine and you are safe.

i will never tire of touching you.

you are my love forever and ever."

i had told him what it felt like to realize the people

who are supposed to love you to not want to touch you.

he never wanted me to feel like that again.

i feel that again.  so i close my eyes

and remember the hug.

"go glitter or go home"

Bunny was sneaky.   she hopped into her mom's backpack to go to work with her.

see, mom has been way down.  really down.

like so far down she cries all the time.

oh, no one at work knows.  but Bunny knows.

mom talks to Bunny.

so Bunny wanted to see what it was all about.

 Bunny saw.  oh, Lordy Lord Bunny saw what made her mom cry.

so Bunny did what she could to make her mom smile that day.

she jumped out of the backpack and yelled, "i love you, you crazy mom who talks to bunnies!"

mom was happy to see her.  it was like, almost like old times. 

Bunny at work with her mom.

Bunny pulled a funny.  she gathered up all the shoes that her mommy was having to damage out

and she tried them all on.

 Bunny says, "go glitter or go home."

and mommy smiled.

i miss him.  i'm really hurting and i need to talk to him.

so i do.

but it's not the same.

things are just whacked out at work.  i've got a girl who deliberately screws things up

and then does this Orwellian double-speak.  

i am having "the talk" with her on Friday.

i'm not being paid to be the manager.

i'm not being paid enough to be the assistant manager, but

i do my job, 

and the manager's job.

i hope someone's watching.

i hope something good happens sometime soon.

i'm trying to keep in mind what Bunny said.

"go glitter or go home."

keep a light heart.

i ordered the book "Heaven" that an anonymous commenter told me about.

i'm looking forward to reading it.

i got it off amazon.com.  used.  cost me $6 total.

i also ordered "The Way to Zen."

61 cents.

$4 total.

i love amazon.com.

i'm tired and i miss him.

i felt protected with him.

now i feel like a little boat lost at sea.

but not too far from shore.

i called my son today.

i told him everything.

he is sending me money for food.

he told me not to wait so long to call him;

that he's here for me,

like a "Special Trade."

http://www.amazon.com/A-Special-Trade-Sally-Wittman/dp/006026554X

i'm embarrassed to have had to ask.

i am grateful i have him.

i cried after i hung up the phone.

i cried that a "special trade" had to happen.

i cried that i do have him; and that he loves me so much.

"go glitter or go home."

i love you, Dragon.

i love you, my kind, generous, loving son.

i love you, my sweet, loyal daughter.

i promise you guys that i will keep my head up.

i promise not to give up.

"go glitter or go home."

Bunny update and a letter to Dragon

i think i promised a Bunny update.  well, here it is.

first off, Bunny is still working full time at that new place.  {psssst.  she doesn't like it but it's a job

and she is grateful to have it.}  But the Bun doesn't make enough.  she is working for much less and driving much further and she isn't making ends meet.  she had given up on the luxury of enough food so she is going to try and sell Mary Kay cosmetics.  she is doing it with her daughter so both girls are trying their best to be pretty and invite women they meet to free facials in hopes of selling to them.

Bunny is trying to find people for her first party.  her daughter already did one and made $300 that evening.  Bunny's fingers are crossed.  oh, and if anyone here is interested, Bunny is getting her Mary Kay website up soon and will post it here.  it really is a good product and Bunny would love to take orders.  {yes, she knows.  she is selling here on her blog.  Bunny isn't above screaming for help.}

 Bunny has a friend that she got on her last day at her old store, the bear store.  it's a little white Scottie.  yes, she knows most people will think, "oh, a Westie," but Bunny says, "nope.  she's a Scottie."  her name is Snowball and Bunny loves her very much.  they watch Netflix together.

 Bunny drives her around the apartment in her car, and lets Snowball toot the horn.

 Bunny sews, and sews, and sews.  and Bunny keeps company with her Dragon.

she misses him a lot.  a whole lot.  in fact, Bunny has had some moments where her self-doubt has gotten the better of her and she has wondered if her Dragon would even know her anymore.  she has changed so much.

she has wondered if he would still love her.  she has lost so much weight.  she looks so sad sometimes.  she doesn't smile when she isn't around people.  she talks softly to her Scottie babies.  but she doesn't ever go out, except to work.

she thinks about her Dragon a lot and wonders if he is alright.

my dearest Dragon,

how are you?  i know that sounds like a ridiculous way to start a letter to someone who has died, and been dead for over 4 years, but i really want to know.  what is it like?  what do you feel?  do you feel?  can you see me?  i hope, if you can, that you don't look in on me at all because i have changed.  i am so far from who i was when i was with you.  i feel lost out here in a storm that continues to build.

i lost my store.  it closed and i am at a store that is so vastly different.  the boss there is a bully.  she is verbally abusive and we have been unable to get upper management to even acknowledge it.  the humiliation is hard to take.  the pressure, the denigration, it is embarrassing in front of customers.  the constant threats of being fired.  the unreasonable physical demands, it is taking it's toll on me.  i am looking for another job, but i have started with Mary Kay.

i know.  this will make you laugh.  me and makeup.  i have never worn makeup in my whole life, and here i am now using it and trying to sell it.  you always told me i was so beautiful.  but you always said the best part of me was the "inside me."  you loved my soul, who i was.  i guess who i might still be.  that part of me hasn't changed.  what has changed is my courage.  my stamina is less.  hope is hard to hang on to.  i miss you fiercely.  you were so strong.  you were kick ass and bad ass and all that kind of ass.  you also had a great ass but what i need is for my own ass to be stronger. 

i have gone through all the strength i have.  i have gone through my inner reserves.  i am now running on the idea of hope and strength.  but ideas have carried far more than i further than i even want to go.  so the idea of hope, especially if it's all you have, isn't such a bad thing to have.  some have less.

over 4 years since i kissed you.  over 4 years since i last heard your voice.  where did you go?  is it nice where you are?  do you ever think of me?  do you wish you knew?  if i were tired or happy or, if i were sad and blue?  la de da.  la de da.  i sometimes wish it had been me who died.

but then i think about my children.  and i think about my dogs.  i think about what the future holds and i wonder where i will go.  will i go to Heaven?  is there one?  will we be together?  will i .......
the questions go on and on.  and now, you are one who has the answers.  why won't you share them with me?  

sometimes i don't think i'm going to make it.  i work hard and keep looking for more work.  i never rest on my day off {well, writing on my blog isn't exactly work} and i never go out.  i don't do things other than work, errands, laundry, sew, and now Mary Kay.  my time is taken up with surviving.

i don't even take photos of clouds really anymore.  and i miss the creative thing.  yes, sewing is creative, but i have drawings that i make at night, sketches of things i want to make and i don't take the time for myself.  i don't feel i can.  like maybe i would be punished if i tried to do something nice for myself.  like it's not allowed.

i miss you.  you made me feel happy.  happy is one of those elusive feelings, like inner peace.  you only know you aren't there, but it's what you work for.  and yet, if you read Zen, Judeo-Christian writings, it isn't something you work for, it's something you discover.

i discovered happiness with you.  i discovered inner peace with you.  watching you die ripped that all away and i am swamped with a grief that i've read is all my fault.  "pain is an actual experience.  grief is something you have control over.  so get over it."  reading that hit me in the face like a shovel.  i'm in control of grief.  i'm in control of how much i miss you and how lonely i feel for you.  let me snap my fingers and get over it.  there.  all done.

not.

anyway, i'm more or less the same as i was.  well, i am less than i was.  i am quieter.  i am sadder.  i am more of a loner.  i am freer in a way with what i say and how i look because i do not care what i look like.  you're not here to impress.  i am despondent a lot.  i am hopelessly in love with you.  still.

there is a pattern to my days and a rhythm to my sleep.  all fucked up.  but i'm used to it.  i am tired.  i do have a few more questions for you.

do you miss me?

do you get to sleep, really rest after you die?  

do you, could you, still love me?

forever and always,
~ your Beach Bunny

3 surgeries, 3 deaths ~ a day in the life of...

i have done nothing today but look for another job, deal with some medical issues, and been the observer of 3 deaths.

i'll talk about the job thing some other time.  i don't want to sound like i'm complaining.

i got the results of some other tests i had done.  today the doctor told me that i need 3 surgeries.  both my feet and my left knee need surgery.  i told him it will have to wait until i can have health care again.  he understood but told me the pain will get increasingly worse.  there is nothing i can do.

i went home to just sit and remind myself to breathe but i was forced to deal with 3 very small deaths that bear no import to anyone but me.  there will be no write up in any papers or anything like that.  in fact, some readers may roll their eyes.  and that's okay.  i understand that these 3 things are only important to me.

my humidifier died today.  i use it to help me breathe at night.
my toaster died today.  sometimes toast is all i have left to eat until my next paycheck.
my fish died today.  i've had him for almost 3 years.

humidifier and toaster have been solemnly removed to the dumpster.  i stood there for a moment and considered the cost of each item.  can't do it right now.  if my breathing starts to disintegrate i will sell something at the pawn shop and get me another one.  the toaster?  someday i'll get another one.

my fish, Moby Mocha Boo, has been tearfully removed from his tank and placed in a baggy of water and placed in the freezer.  i will take him to my daughter's house on my day off on Friday to be buried in her back yard.  yes, i called her.  she has fish.  3 huge tanks at her house.  3 dogs.  2 lizards.  the girl understands my love of animals.  she carries my genes for that.

i made up a song for him that i sang to him every night before i went to bed.  i have songs for Carmen Sophia and Scootie Wootums, too.  every animal i've ever owned had their own song that i made up.  it's a foolish thing to do, but i've always been a fool like that.  i sing silly songs to fill the quiet and my animals always seemed to like it.  my dogs love their songs.  Moby Mocha Boo would swim to the top of the tank when i sang his song, even if it wasn't feeding time.

and now he's gone.

i tried not to look at his eyes when i placed him in the baggy.  but before i put him in there, i took a sharpie and wrote his song on the baggy so he will have it with him when i put him in the earth.  and even though i am burying my fish in the earth, he has his water all around him.

i hope he knows how very much i love him and how soothing his swimming was to me.

Moby Mocha Boo, i love you.  you're swimmy and you're silly.

Moby Mocha Boo, i love you.  you're pretty and you're mine.

good-bye, Moby.  you were a funny, silly, very pretty little fish.

giving myself another chance

first let me write that i read all the comments and they touched me greatly.  i won't apologize for my meltdown.  i have been under a great deal of stress.  it simply happened.  i acknowledge it, but i won't apologize for it.  i fully admit that i am fragile right now.  i am tired through and through.  it's my fault.  i am working on it.  i want to move past it.  i like unloading here.  it helps me get the poison out.  one person wrote to "screen out" the comments that hurt.  i will try to do that.  i think it will be okay to give myself another chance here.

i had always thought that blogs were for their owner's to write anything they want.  if they so choose, they can rant and rave and lift their fist to the sky to get it all out.  primal scream therapy.  but misunderstandings can come because, as someone else wrote, tone is absent.  we do not really know each other here.  i will say, though, that when i leave a comment on someone's blog, i am always greatly careful how i word things.  i would never want to confuse someone or hurt their feelings.

secondly, i got the news of benign.  they do wish to do another screening when my insurance kicks in again this summer.  i admit i cried when i was told.  and if i ever get bad news, i will tell you i will cry then, too.

i continue to sew when i have a day off.

 quilt top for my son for his birthday that is a work in progress.

 winter

 spring

 summer; and fall is up top as the new banner photo.

 i am purging my closet of his jeans.  i am making myself a kind of Memory Quilt.

and just for the fun of it, here is my little Scootie Wootums who seems to believe

that he can look into the camera lens and see me looking at him.

i continue to miss him.  i am purging my apartment of things {hence the cut up jeans quilt}.  i cleaned out a drawer and found a bunch of papers from the funeral home that handled the cremation for me.  they had a list of things that are "normal" for a grieving person.  of the 20 things on that list, i can still tick off 9 - 11 of those things on any given day. 

throughout most of the days, every day, i do my job.  i work.  i clean my apartment.  i take care of my puppies.  i go to the grocery store.  i sew.  i draw.  but i miss him.  i am lonely.  i do not feel like taking off my rings so i don't think about it.  i do not wish to date to not be lonely.  when i think about how much fun we had, the kind of person he was, how we talked, lived together, loved each other, all the things we went through; i just kinda don't want to try with anyone else.  they say you cannot compare but the terrible thing about me is that i would compare.  he was awesome and i adored him and put him up on this pedestal.  he's still there for me.  so i'm not ready.

but i am lonely.  the days are long.  the nights are long.  but before anyone can point out that everyone has long and lonely lives, that i could do something about it by dating, just know that i know that.  it doesn't ease my missing him.  i understand that being lonely is sort of my choice by living the way i do.  i see the paradox in it. 

it is what it is and i am who i am.  as i wrote at the beginning, i am not going to apologize. 
peace to all who read.  peace and light to all who grieve.

deeply hurt / last post

reading the 2nd comment from my previous post has me in tears over my apparent stupidity.  i am devastated that i wrote that piece; that i expressed my fears and worries.  her words shined a bright light that shows what a fool i am.

the comment also has me realizing that i must stop writing publicly.  heretofore i have found words of solace coming from those who left messages.  but i am in a very dark place and now feel humiliated by what i write.

waiting on the results of a possible cancer diagnosis, the heavy fear of what might be coming my way, worrying about what and if and how...?  {if i do on with my worries it can be pointed out that there is no life without worry and i am a fool for expressing that i wish i had less to worry about}  but i do worry about my children.  i am at an extremely low point right now and i cannot take her verbal recrimination.  at this time i cannot take someone showing me how stupid i am with my worries.

i signed on to hopefully find some show of support that i so desperately need.  she made me feel ashamed for what i wrote.

he is not here to temper this little cruelty by saying things like, "aw, tell her to piss up a rope."  or "f*ck her.  write what you want.  it's your thing.  tell'em all to f*ck off."

he is not here to be with me while i wait on the doctor's report from the biopsy.  i feel so down and scared.

it will be a while before i even think of writing again.  should i choose to make an appearance here ever again, i swear up and down that i will take careful thought before writing something that someone might feel the urgent need to take apart and condemn. 

but since this has now become a source of pain, i may elect not write anymore at all.

Bunny out.