how did i get here?

my husband, my beautiful Dragon, died suddenly at 12:03 AM on 9 February 2009. there was a cold, lovely full moon and 3 feet of snow on the ground. i "slept" for the following 10 months and "woke" to the physical and emotional pain and torments of deep grief. i "woke" to find i had moved the day of his funeral and that i am lost. i am looking for me while i figure out the abstract, unanswerable questions that follow behind any death. my art has evolved. his death changed that as well because i am forever changed and will forever bear the mark of losing the only man i can ever love.
there is alive and there is dead and there is a place in between. i am here wholly in my heart for my children, but i feel empty inside at this time. i miss him. i have not gotten very far in my grief journey. i make no apologies for this.
this is my place, my blog, where i write to tell the universe that i am still here.
Showing posts with label everyday life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label everyday life. Show all posts

Sunday, April 10, 2011

the world that Bunny sees

Bunny, that is to say i, am a wallflower. i am one by nature, nurture, and most definitely now, by choice. i talk a lot at work. i have to. guests come in and i need to find out a little about them, gage their wants, but mostly their desires. i feed on that desire like a vampire. it’s my job. get their money for our store. but i also try to get them to get for themselves what they want. and when i do their heart ceremony, i sincerely try to make it memorable, to make the hard earned money that they are going to spend on a stuffed animal worth their while.

so i cannot help but see things that might go unnoticed in a fast paced world. yhe fast pace all comes screeching to a halt at the “Choose Me,” at the sound board, and most definitely at the stuffer where the lines can get a little long if there are larger crowds in the store.

working in the store, a lot of the time people treat Bunny, me, a little like a servant. people get used to servants. they will say and do things in front of a servant they would never do in say the check out line of the grocery store, or in front of family during holidays, or at a scout meeting or school carnival.

"it's a mad world."

this is what Bunny sees. sometimes it is warms her spirit. sometimes it frightens her soul. sometimes it breaks her heart.

"and so much pain my dazzled eyes refuse to see...."

a father came in alone a while ago and opens with his story. on December 29th he finds out from his wife of 12 years has been cheating on him. he finds out when she kicks him out of "her house" so that it "won't be weird when" her new boyfriend moves in on December 30th, just in time for her kick ass party on the 31st. this father is forced to leave his 9-year-old daughter behind. in the ensuing months, his wife is attempting to take him for everything. she wants all the money, all of it. she wants his paycheck garnered and she will put HIM on an allowance. she wants full custody of their daughter with him only getting visitation once a month. his daughter cries over it. she wants to live with him. she does not like her mother’s new boyfriend.

the father spills all this out to me. he cries in the store. i run and get him a tissue. i listen to him. i talk him into making Build-A-Bear their thing. i talk him into buying a bear and putting his voice on a build-a-sound. he buys clothes and shoes, little glasses; he makes the bear look just like him. he buys gift cards that he plans on keeping for his daughter so that when he gets her on his once a month visit, he can bring her in to the store. he likes that this can be “their thing.” he leaves a little bit relieved. i feel drained. and worried. i’ve also talked him into talking to his lawyer to see if getting his daughter a cell so that he can text her would break any of the edicts set forth by the mother.

~~~~~~

i was the party bear for a 6-year-old’s birthday party. she had 11 guests in the 5 and 6 age range. you really need to be on your game to keep them entertained while they wait for their animal to be stuffed. two little girls got up and stood directly in front of me demanding that i stuff their bears first, before the birthday girl. they did not feel they had to wait. they said that since they were Indian, they had a higher status than anyone else. they told me their father’s family was very rich and very important back in India therefore making them certainly more important than anyone at that party. they should go first.

i said, “no. please, go and sit down.” their mother was standing there and looked a little embarrassed. she told her daughters to go and sit down. these two little girls turned and cursed her. they told her she was white and did not understand. they said they were going to tell their father on her. i interrupted their cursing their mother and asked them, “is your father or anyone in your father’s family a doctor?” no, they were in banking. i said, “so no one in your family has cured a disease? no one has helped humanity in any way other than to handle money?" the girls looked stunned. i continued. "i have just seen the two of you disrespect your mother. i see nothing here that warrants you to get special treatment. come back to a party where you have helped someone or have been respectful to the mother who gave birth to you and i will make sure you go first.” they sat down. their mother thanked me later but for a couple of days after that i was stressed that their father might call to have me fired. he never did. i still work there.

~~~~~~~

i sat before a mother who smacked the back of her son’s head and told him he was stupid. it was because he wanted his bear to say “i love you” rather than have the roar put in. he didn’t like the roar. his mother made him get the roar.

~~~~~~~~

i have stood before a mother who took an already stuffed tiger out of her 2-year-old son’s hands and told him he was too bad to have it. she told him he would “probably kill it. you’re that bad. you're stupid and bad.” she thrust the tiger into my arms and said, “take it back. he doesn’t deserve this.” the now sobbing child’s offense? he had accidently stepped on her foot that was wearing a very pretty sandal. she said it hurt and he probably messed up her expensive pedicure.

~~~~~~

a mother took her 3-year-old out of his stroller and let him walk around the store. she stood in line at the stuffer. there was a lot of people in the store. suddenly this mother shrieked! “where’s Toby? where the fuck is my son? there are too many GD people in this fucking store! everyone get the fuck out so i can find my son!”

he was in his father’s arms not two feet from this woman. when the man got his wife to calm down and see that he was standing right there with their son she took the child from his father’s arms and said, “you fucking asshole! he needs to walk around.” she put her son back on the floor where he immediately went to his father to be picked up. she smacked her son’s bottom, hard, and pushed him away from them. “he needs to learn independence. stop picking him the fuck up!” as a collective, everyone in the store shook their heads.

i miss you, Dragon. i really would like to talk to you about some of this stuff. just to sit in your lap and talk it all away.

so many stories i could tell, but i will close this with one.

a woman came in on the 2 year anniversary of my Dragon’s death. i worked that day. no one knew what that day meant to me. no one knew that inside i was struggling to breathe. the woman had her two daughters with her, 9 and 13. she wanted to buy a bear for each of them. there was something about the woman that was off. i sensed her disquiet. nothing she said. nothing on her face. she was loving and smiling, laughing with her daughters. girls day out.

i mentioned that maybe she would like to put her voice on a build-a-sound for each of the bears, that way her daughters would always have her voice with them. her face brightened, but still had an inscrutable quality to it. she wanted to do that so i took her off to the side, to a part of the store where it was quieter. she said to each of her daughter’s, “Mommy loves you so much. I will always be with you.” it hit me like a ton of bricks.

we stuffed the bears and put in what i call the “thumpy-thumpy heartbeat.” it is a little red heart that, when you press it, thumps for about 5 beats. it’s cool if you like the realism. i did a very poignant heart ceremony, more emotion than even i usually do. i felt i needed to.

when her daughters ran off to give their bears an “air bath,” the mother thanked me, hugged me and started to get very teary. she said, “the girls don’t know it yet, but i have to go back in for more breast cancer surgery. it will be the third time. i just don’t know. but thank you for this day. thank you for talking me into putting my voice in those bears. thank you so much for that heart ceremony.”

about 5 weeks later, their father came in to see me one day when i wasn’t working. he asked for my schedule. he wanted to talk only to me. no one knew why. he was very serious. everyone thought he was mad at me. so we waited for him to come in. when he walked in there was no other guest in the store. his eyes scanned us bear associates and his eyes stopped on me. he saw me with Bunny on my back. he walked up to the counter and said, “you did something extraordinary for my family. those bears, my wife was the one who went in for more cancer surgery. those bears mean everything to my girls now. my wife died on the table. i just wanted you to know that your talking to my wife, listening to her, it meant so much to her. my girls won’t let go of those bears except to go to school. i was wondering if i could buy more of those sound boxes and make more recordings of my wife’s voice i’ve collected. her cell phone message. from family movies. i don’t ever want my girls to not have a bear without her voice.”

i showed him how he could even make a re-recording of the one that was already in the bear, of the one she had made that day specifically for her girls. he bought 10 build-a-sounds. before he left he looked at me and said, “you understood what was happening, didn’t you? before she told you, she said you knew. what gave it away?”

i told him it was her eyes and her words. she had said, “I will always be with you.” i told him that "my husband had died and everyone tells me he will always be with me. if you say it, if you say that to someone, well, it’s not something you say unless you know you might be leaving.”

he nodded and shook my hand. “my girls and i, we’ll come back and see you soon.”

they have. i get hugs from the girls every time they come in. it also breaks my heart every time i see them. they are all hurting so badly, but then i understand that kind of pain. i understand any and every kind of pain. i see it all the time.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

only in my mind....

i read somewhere that only in our minds are we truly free. that is where i have always gone to find release from the life i was having to deal with. it is where i go now when i am faced with awful things that i can do nothing about.

it is worthy of note that i never had to close my eyes and fantasize about being free when i was with him.

two weeks ago my tooth split vertically up into the gum. the dentist said it was one he had worked on less than 6 months ago. he is charging me $1745 for a crown. that's what he said. we're doing a crown. the quick and ugly turns out that he forgot to tell me i required oral surgery. i found out about the surgery when he started stitching my gum. it is going to take 3 months of eating only jello, pasta, soups, oatmeal, and a few other very soft foods cut into small bites eaten on the other side of my mouth before i will be healed enough to be given a crown. he promised i would have it the week before Camp Widow. so i can eat, he said.

it's been hard. i've been very hungry even after i eat because i cannot eat a complete meal. my jaw gets tired.

i make quilts out of clothes of people who have died. a woman put a link to the Facebook photo album of my work to try and help me. her brief words were gracious. unfortunately i have been deluged with messages from women who think i am "feeding off the dead." that i am "profiting from people who are deeply grieving." that i should "teach how to do this at Camp Widow so people don't have to trust you." that i should "make them like that rag quilt place does - just some squares so you don't have to charge as much as you do."

somewhere along this wretched path people have gotten the idea i am from Nigeria or currently living in Nigeria. i can assure you that i live in the United States.

the messages that i have gotten have ranged from coercive to my teaching so i do not "bilk the bereaved" to hateful and saying i will surely go to Hell. i have done what my infuriated children and my husband's friend have said i should do. delete them all.

and i have. but the feeling of being whittled away lasts. like that awful thing said and one hopes no one heard, but then the echo comes around and you've heard it again. how many people have chatted each other up and condemned me for trying to make a living? yes, i charge for the quilts. the most largest and most expensive one i did was 9 feet by 10.5 feet. it had several - several - embroidered sentences and two hoodies for the little girl to be able to wear. i charged over $700 but under $800. i had only two and a half months to do it in. she had a special deadline. i worked upwards of 16 hours a day and met the deadline. i made $2.40 an hour.

i am crushed. there is nothing i can do. i have to keep my head up and try and remember that the people who have their quilts did not feel over-charged. i believe they really like their quilts. i think they do. no one has asked for their money back.

so i guess that leaves me with living inside my mind when i feel this hurt which is most of the time right now. i know it will pass. it will all go away and i will be forgotten which is not as pleasing as it sounds since i need word of mouth to let people know i am here and can make the quilts. tangible solace. or so i thought. it never occurred to me i could be viewed as a vulture.

maybe i should change my brochures. add a tag line.
RenaissanceArtist
Quilts and other Textile Art
No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

it is the middle of the afternoon. i have had lunch. i had a grilled cheese cut into very small pieces. i am hungry again. or still. i can't tell anymore. i posted a response to the letters on my Facebook page. some people have put up some nice comments. i made sure i thanked them.

i am going to get an iced tea and maybe try to eat some goldfish crackers. if you leave them on your tongue they get soft. then i am going back to work on a quilt.

so i guess things are fine here for me, a profiteer of death living in Nigeria.

while i sew i think i'll disappear into my mind. it's the only place where everything works out. it is the only place where i am wild and free.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

it is what it is

"i sat evaluating myself.
i decided to lie down." ~ Rod McKuen (i think. it's been a while since i read it.)

i've been sewing like crazy on a quilt for Suddenwidow. one for her eldest is finished. one for her youngest is in the works. i break after 9 PM now so i can sew for myself. i've been working on a gift for my two fairy godmothers to take with me to Camp Widow in August to thank them for getting me there. that's what Bunny is working on in the blog photo. i have no fear that they will be able to figure it out from that photo. =0)

sewing/quilting as a profession is not like being an art director at an advertising which i've done. it's not like working the stock room at a department store or being a sales associate, both of which i've done. it's not like being a SPED teacher of EH boys, which i've also done. all those involve constant interaction with people.

sewing/quilting as a profession is closer to plowing a field or bailing hay, both of which i did on my father's farm during my childhood and teenage years. it's closer to working flowers and plants at a nursery which i have done. you're alone a lot of the time in a very solitary pursuit except driving a tractor and planting, growing, and culling flowers and plants is all done outside, or in the greenhouse. but the common thread is you're alone with your thoughts.

i know how to be alone. i'm not afraid of it, but having come from an intensely close bond, one in which, once he retired from his job, we were never apart, my solitude has been difficult to accept. i'd go down to the cove alone sometimes. he'd run to the grocery store, but beyond an hour here or there, we were never, ever apart.

i wonder if not having my own home, having my things in storage, not having a car, and being anxious about food and making sure i don't make my ex angry, might be making it hard for me to move forward at the pace i would have normally.

i haven't been able to tell my story. except here and here is not at all like talking to a person sitting with you. it's not like sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea and chatting with someone with whom you feel safe. so i talk to my daughter.

she told me she thinks my situation with money, or without it, and lack of mobility has prevented me from finding friends. we're working to resolve the car thing. maybe the VA, when i get approved for something, will be enough for a little car for me. maybe i'll get a book published and i can get some breathing space. maybe ..... ah, forget it. i'm just working on trying to figure something out on a wing and a prayer.

my daughter believes that once i get mobile, i can start going to church regularly again and maybe volunteer again like i did before. maybe, maybe. if wishes were horses then beggars could ride. but if we give up on our wishes and hopes and dreams, then we live for nothing. she and i feel that one day, someday, something good will happen to me again. but i told her that we had the Dragon and that's more than we had ever hoped for. we both got teary. he is a constant wish/hope/dream/memory for the both of us. girls and their Dragons. when a bad boy reforms, oh, Lord, there's nothing quite like him. if he is all i get, i have been blessed.

it's been mentioned that i'm sounding stronger. i'm not any stronger, i'm just settling in. the years i have left without him stretch out achingly long. because of how i was raised and then what happened during my first marriage, i have no sense of entitlement that my Dragon and i will be allowed to see each other again. i will not risk challenging God for something that may not be my place to ask for. there is not enough of me left to think that the deepness and profoundness of our love for each other will carry any weight in the afterlife. having said that, i love my Dragon far too much to stop humbly praying for him and i to be together.

working as i do, writing the letters for my allowance for bills, food, etc, have not given me any revelation that i'll be okay. i am simply settling into what life has dictated to me. i carefully fight for little i have left of myself. my Dragon so wanted to see me come back from what life had done to me. i work. i research for help, Medicaid, VA, grief counseling. i make calls. i try. i am swimming upstream and, though i'm not loosing any ground, i'm not making much headway. but i don't think i'm failing at how i am grieving as it has been suggested, it just is what it is.

wishes? i have several.
hopes? i have a few of those.
dreams? i have two. i'd like a small little townhouse with a walled courtyard to release my little dogs into to play. i could paint the walls and get my things back from my ex. it can become mine in a way that an apartment never will.

and two, i'd like to be granted the blessing of being reunited with my Dragon when it is time for me to leave here.

it's good to have dreams. only in our dreams can we be truly safe, love conquer all, and Dragons live forever.

the moon is almost full again. i'm not going to ever apologize for my relationship with the moon. grief be damned. the moon and i will always look at each other.