the antichrist and others

my time with this job is almost at an end.  as Dickens wrote, and is oft times true, "it was the best of times.  it was the worst of times."  i met some nice people.  i have guests who come in looking for me.  i have also met some of the worst people, some of my staff included.

i have shared stories of some of these people.  here is the last.

a woman comes in with 8 children.  are they all hers?  who knows.  she sits down to text while these children systematically destroy the store.  they reach into the acrylics and threw whole bunches of clothes for the bears into the air.  they grab the skater display dog and cat and have "races."  they throw panties into the air.  they terrorize the few guests who were still in the store, too far into the process to run out.  i walk in, ready to start my shift, and see my manager and an associate NOT doing anything to stop this.  i get our birthday party bell, very loud, and ring it halting all activity in the store.  "who is with these children?"  the woman texting says, "they're with me.  they're just blowing off steam."  i tell her to get them and leave the store while she has the chance.  the chance being i am picking up the receiver and calling security.  she whistles and they all come running, continuing to tear things up as they go.  fortunate circumstance, security is right outside our doors.  the children go flooding past him but he grabs the woman and the youngest child.  he tells me to call back to security for back up.  the woman is furious and struggles.  the child screams.  i explain the situation and that 7 more children are loose in the mall.  security sends out people to cover doors.  the PA system blasts out a warning that these children are loose and destructive, and "wanted."  it was a bloody nightmare for all concerned.
and it took 3 of us 45 minutes to put the store to rights.

there is a girl, 20, who works as a part time manager.  she moved here with her sister, her sister's fiancee, and her own fiancee after the death of her mother.  she has been here for well over a year and a half.  she broke up with her fiancee and started in a lesbian relationship with her immediate supervisor.  because of this relationship, our boss moved her to my store so she could continue working for the company, but she, her lover, and our boss are treading on a minefield.  our company does not like relationships within the company being so close.  our boss is the boss over my store and the store where this girl's lover is.  not only that, but our boss is best friend's with this girl's lover.  the three of them hang out a lot outside of work.  my problem with this is the stealing of company time.  the girl, now my part time manager, is always late getting to the store, even when she's opening that day.  late, as in 15 to 20 minutes late, but our boss covers for her.  and by cover i mean she clocks her in on time so that she gets paid.  to me, and to our district manager, this is stealing money from the company.  yet if i complain or call attention to it, it is me against them.  yes i can call up the computer evidence of time being approved by our boss, but our boss has worked for the company for 6 years.  her word against mine.  it grates but there is nothing i can do.

a girl came into the store close to closing time.  the mall does not allow children to be in the mall alone after 6 pm.  she said she was not alone, that the man in the suit standing at the entrance was her driver and responsible for her.  she chose her bear, put in 3 sounds, chose a lot of clothes.  it was late and i excused myself to shut the doors.  the mall was closing.  both the girl and her driver were very correct in their behavior.  the girl said little.  he said less.  as she dressed her bear and gathered up all she had collected to purchase and started ringing her up.  it came to over $700.  yes, you read that correctly.  she pulled out a platinum card and paid for it.  it had her name on it.  she showed me her ID, not a driver's license, merely photo ID that allowed her to use the card.  4 big sacks later she was ready to go.  she only picked up her bear.  the driver came over and quietly asked, "ready to go, miss?"  "yes."  she thanked for me staying late and allowing her to shop.  she said, "i don't like being on the mall with regular people."  i smiled.  she asked, "what?"  i told her i was "regular people."  her comment?  "you're a worker bee.  i have to speak to you to get what i want.  you did a good job.  you have dignity. thank you again."  i opened the door and let her and her driver out.  she walked with a maturity i have never seen in a 10-year old.

and now for the antichrist.  this one still has me rattled.

i was alone in the store.  we do not have anyone come in to help out until 1 PM.  a woman and her 3-year old son came in.  they were buying an "i'm sorry bear" for his 9-month old brother who was in the hospital.  i asked what happened to the little one.  mom said, "Baker here had an accident and his therapist thought an 'i'm sorry' gift would help him understand he needs to set things right.  he had an accident with the iron.  i was ironing and left it to answer the phone.  Baker unplugged the iron and took it down the hall into his little brother's room and dropped it in is crib.  Ben got burned."  it was all i could do to keep my face from showing my horror at this story.  Baker stood there looking at me with eyes that held no emotion.  he scanned the bears and grabbed one.  we went to stuff it and i asked if he wanted it soft and cuddly or stuffed really full.  he reached out and pinched the hell out of my leg and said, "don't ask stupid questions."  keep in mind this child is 3-years old.  his mother clucked -- i have read that word in books all my life and never really understood it until this woman did it -- she clucked, as if this was merely a dropped towel, "oh, Baker, sweetie.  she wants to give you want you want."  hearing those words the little boy asked me, "you want to give me what i want?"  in pain, i said, "i want to stuff the bear like you would like it."  "fine.  soft."  all through the process the mother was telling Baker that the bear was for his brother.  it suddenly dawned on him as they came to pay out that this really wasn't for him.  he stood in the middle of the store and screamed in outrage.  he stopped all action of people outside the store who looked in at this child's tantrum.  his mother ran to the wall and said, "Baker, honey, i didn't know you'd be so upset.  come pick one for yourself!"  Baker cut himself off, smiled at me, and went to pick out a bear for himself.  it took me 10 minutes of adjusting the stuffing levels to make this child happy.  in the meantime i found out that this woman had had both boys by different fathers, was not married, and believed men were filthy.  but if she was to be "cursed with boys" she would "raise them right."  apparently raising them meant that Baker could do what he wanted when he wanted how he wanted.  he controlled the entire show.  his mother whispered to me, "please don't make him mad.  he'll take it out on me."  she "protects him" by locking him in his room at night so she can sleep.  she "protects him" by doing everything she can to keep him from getting mad.
as the bears were being rung out, Baker took the bear meant for his brother, held it by its legs, and starting beating it against the counter.  his voice was raspy and deep as he said, "i wish Ben would die."  he said this over and over.  his mother just smiled nervously and said, "i think someone needs a nap."  he screamed no for the longest time.  he carried that note loud and long.  a Navy SEAL would have been impressed with how long he held his breath with that word.
the mother and child left the store and i just stood there, feeling so cold inside, and worried.  in about 10 years or so, i think i might be scanning the news for the name Baker, to see if he's done anything yet with the blackness and hatred he carries inside himself.

i hold these stories inside. there is really no one to tell.  i tell my children bits and pieces but, you know, those daily things you wish to share, you share with your spouse.  "oh, my Lord, you won't believe what happened today."  and you talk.  they make you feel better.  they hug you.  they make you a hot cup of tea.  they laugh.  they comfort.  they are there.

i miss him.  with all that i am, and all that is happening to me right now, i miss him.  i do talk to him.  i do tell him all this.  there just isn't any answering voice.  there are no hot cups of tea being made for me.  and there are no hugs to be had.

far too tired ~ part 2 ~ the search for peace

i am struggling.  worries and fears overwhelm me at this time.  i've got things going on at work.  things going on in my personal life.  too much and i am so very tired.

sleep, when it comes, does nothing for me.

personal life:  i've written the VA about my new position, the raise, and i've heard nothing.  i called late last summer and was told that since i wrote the letter, they will process and send me a letter letting me know of any adjustments.  i've still heard nothing and suffer severe anxiety each month, waiting to see if they send me my stipend.  it's going to end.  i know it.  but living in limbo is crushing me.  i struggle and do nothing ~ I DO NOTHING extra.  no movies.  no clothes.  nothing that is not absolutely crucial to my existence.  and i miss fun.

personal life:  i wouldn't mind a friend but the alternative to that is being afraid to find a friend.  haven't had any luck down here with friends.  i'm too poor.  i'm now too busy.  i'm too exhausted to be any good to anyone.  

personal life:  i'm lonely.  i miss him.  i haven't taken off my wedding rings.  i see men coming into the store and i feel nothing.  they are not attractive.  they are not interesting.  nothing stirs inside me.  i miss HIM.  i love him.  i trusted him.  he knew everything about me.  he was too much of everything my heart desired.  he was, flawed as he was, he was too perfect.

personal life:  still working on that quilt.  so much work.  i need to get up the courage to ask her for more money laying out the amount of work she has added to this.  i call this quilt Sisyphus.  i thought i was close and it came rolling back down over the top of me.  so much more work  

work:  i've got a girl who is a part time manager who has become arrogant and a finger-pointer when anything goes wrong.  and it's all her.  at the core of every drama, it's her.  when i speak to her she instantly becomes overly agitated and loud.  she paints herself as a victim and i hate that.  we're going to have a BIG meeting with my boss and my boss's boss, and my other two managers.  it's going to be a meeting of whose going to throw everyone under the bus as far and as fast as she can.  in other words, i think i might have my first drink of alcohol since my diabetes diagnosis immediately after this meeting.

work:  long drive.  longer hours.  young people who have no work ethic.  it's disheartening.

and i am not ungrateful for my job.  i love it.  but this are thorns on roses.  puppies nip.  to make those beautiful flowers grow it must rain.  life is good but people can suck.  love is great and then they die.

i search for peace.  i take too heart too much what people say to me.  i'm not complaining.  i'm relating here what i would curl up beside my beloved husband and say.  i have no other recourse.  it's a way to talk it out and see it.  i read back over what i've written and i can say, "okay, it's out there.  someone knows.  he knows.  i'll find my way.  i'll find guidance, support, my path."

death is an artist.  i wrote this on someone's blog or on Facebook somewhere.  but i think of death now as an artist.  it is a sculptor changing our minds, our way of thinking, molding us into different people than we were before that horrible moment when we turned about and went home alone.

death is a whittler.  it shaves off and out of our lives the people who have closed minds.  it whittles away the people who refuse to understand, or who refuse to stay beside us even while they admit they don't know what we're feeling.  not being able to feel what we are feeling is fine.  admit that and stay with me.  listen to me.  hold my hand.

bring me a cup of hot tea and be silent with me because, as long winded as i can be,

sometimes it still hurts to much to talk.  or worse, i don't know how to put in into words.

would that i had a place where i could go, a shrine or altar that i had created that was simple and profoundly sacred.  i could go there and sit and just be.  not think.  or think.  pray.  sigh.  not read so much as remember poems, psalms, words of wisdom drawn from the myriad of places i've gotten them from.  but i have a place i go to.  that room up there is in my head.  when i close my eyes for even a moment, if i need this place, it's there for me.  i pretend it's all mine in my fantasy house.  i go downstairs and look out the windows at the ocean.  then i turn and light the candles and i contemplate peace.  i try to empty my mind of all the anguish and just focus on the good.  him.  my children.  my dogs.  what i am thankful for.  i try to re-center myself to face all the drama and the worries of THIS world.  

one foot here in this world but my eyes on the later.  i read a book i won't speak to here. it has changed me.  changed my opinion of a few things.  me mostly.  i'll write about it some other time, after my thoughts about it are more cohesive.  

for now, the search for peace continues.  

i wish it for all of you.

it's a mad, strange world

i told you it was coming; a blog about my observations of people.  they think others don't see them, really "see."  but i do.  people are downright scary at times, and they are raising children.

there is a play area just outside the store.  lots of people go and sit there for hours as their children play on the huge plastic, fiberglass, whatever those things are that they crawl around on and under and go through.  okay, that was a long sentence and you might have missed the one operative word.  they sit there for HOURS.  i know this because their little ones "escape" the play enclosure without their noticing, come running barefoot into the store, and create chaos.  they grab bears, bears in strollers, and rush out of the store.  they grab merchandise and run out of the store with fist fulls of sounds, arms full of clothes, you name it, they grab it.  we have to chase them down to get it back.  their parents?  no help.  i've had children, babies as young as 3 call me a fucking bitch when i explain that the bear lives in the store and doesn't want to leave.  i've been slapped, kicked, punched, pinched, and shoved.  i've been cursed at by babies who should not have those words at disposal in their vocabulary.  little boys come in and sniff girl bear panties.  little boys come in and put their fingers through the hole where the bear/bunny/monkey/etc. tail goes through and waggle it calling it their dick.  and it is the same children over and over, for HOURS.  when i say HOURS i mean upwards of 6 hours. 

i can go in to prep the store, be there as much as 45 minutes before the mall stores open, and there are people with their children already there.  i close the doors at 9 PM.  people are still there.  i have closed the doors, settled the financials, restocked, gone to the back, done the paperwork, turned off the lights and have come out to leave and suddenly, at 9:15, 9:20 they want a bear because at 2 PM they had promised little Joey or little Jane that they could have a $10 bear before they went home from "playing at the mall."  i have to tell them that we are closed.  the parents get in my face and scream at me, invade my personal space and crowd me against my locked store doors.  their children slap me, kick, punch, pinch, and shove me.  and yes, i have used my cell and called mall security.  guess what?  they are on rounds and someone will be by "eventually."  so i have to endure.  i ease around these people who are screaming at me that their "poor baby wants a bear.  how can you be so fucking heartless?  we've been out there since 1 or so and all they've been wanting for all these hours is a little bear.  open the store and give them one.  open the store and we'll buy a bunch of stuff.  you heartless bitch!  how you can deprive my child of a bear!?"  as i walk i am sometimes shoved in the back.  i keep my head up and my eyes are scanning so that my peripheral catches if they become more violent.  i glance at all the other closed and dark store windows to see their reflections.  how close to me are they?  are their arms up in an aggressive way that might mean contact with my body?  once i get to the mall door i leave from, and see the darkness outside, i tremgble for fear that they will follow me out there and do something that no one will see, or get on camera, at least.

and yes, sometimes i go back into the store and hide.  and wait.  and yes, they do this in front of their children.  "tell her how much you want a bear.  tell her she's making you cry.  tell her she's a fucking c***."  and their babies, for once all day long, obey. 

for the actual shoppers inside the store during working hours, nothing has changed from past stories i've written about.  i've seen children say and do and act in ways my children never would have even thought of much less that i would have had to correct their behavior.  these children come from some part of hell and are actually living among us, and will eventually grow up to breed, and vote, and, for bear's sake, maybe run for office themselves and be in charge of something, of us.

boy comes in and buys a bear for his girlfriend because he used his knife to decapitate her other bear.  why?  her mother called her when he was talking to her and he got "fucking po'ed."  how old was the boy and girl that she was out carrying around her favorite teddy bear?  9.  yes, he had the blade on him.  while he was still in the store i called security about a concealed weapon.  "there's nothing we can do about it unless we see it."

little girl celebrating her 8th birthday came in with her older sister, 11, and her boyfriend, 17.  i was shocked, too.  the girls both looked like teenagers.  halter tops, booty shorts, makeup, and fake tattoos.  the 11-year old and the 17-year old were making out like, well, inappropriately.  the 8-year old wanted to make her bear look like Rhianna so she bought a shirt, panties, heels, a crown and wand, and no skirt or pants.  "she's a slut like Rhianna and she's gonna make millions."

parents come in and sit down and let their children run around the store.  they literally sit and watch their child run the store as if it were a racetrack.  "i'm sorry, he just needs to blow off a little steam."  i say, "there's a play area just outside this store.  you can't miss it.  he could run out there."  they smile as if i am new to this planet and tell me, "no, he is going to do it in here.  there's too many kids out there and he won't have the freedom to run like he can in here.  you don't have to helps us.  we're not buying anything.  he's just going to run."  this first time i let it go and watched.  the store wasn't busy.  he ran for 20 minutes full on pedal to the metal like a crazy person.  then he started screaming and smiling.  he started smiling with his lips pulled back in a jack-o-lantern gash with saliva coming out of his mouth.  it was like something from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer."  i looked over at this parents and they smiled and said, "there it is, he's almost done."  i looked back at the little boy and as he was coming back around facing me again, his palm was rubbing the front of his pants.  harder and harder.  fast and faster.  suddenly the dad grabs the boy and picks him up and takes him to the bathroom.

the next time the people came in, i told them they could not.  we fortunately had too many people in the store at the time.  the woman was pissed and the dad incredulous.  "he's really good at this.  there's not that many people in there.  he won't run into anyone."  i told them that the child had no way of knowing which way a guest in our store would pivot and turn at a moments notice.  i said it was not safe to do this at this time.  in my head i was thinking, how do i keep them out of the store forever, when the dad opened the darkest door and actually said it out loud.  "but he likes masturbating in here and he really needs to today."  both parents looked at me expectantly, as if i should just accept that this was the way of the world.  i said, "i am sorry but we are expecting a party of 20 little girls in here in 10 minutes {and we truly were} and i cannot have your son running frantically around the store masturbating.  one of the fathers of the little girls might not see public masturbation as acceptable and i have to consider all our guests' feelings."  the parents suddenly seemed to understand.  "oh, right, yeah, some people are just crazy."

yeah, some people are.  and others are just plain evil.

tidbits i've overheard.  "if you sleep with your stepbrother again, we're breaking up."

"i'm getting you everything you want and don't ask me for anything else.  now tomorrow i'm having the dog put down so this stuffed one is your new dog.  remember, everything you want so shut up crying.  no, of course not.  don't be stupid.  dogs don't go to Heaven."

"if mommy's boyfriend touches you again, let me know, okay?"

father to his 4-month old daughter:  "yeah, you're a little bitch, aren't you?  you're daddy's little bitch."

said to me directly:  "i'm divorced from their mother.  i've got some calls to make so i'm gonna be over here.  fill the baskets up with whatever they want.  i don't care what it costs.  make them love me more than her."

now it's time for gentle little Bunny to go shower, eat breakfast, get in the car, and drive to work.  along the route i will listen to the car radio, and quite possibly weep for the world.

"the best thing that's ever been mine"

it's February first. whoopee. i just paid rent minus $25 dollars because they are taking my washer/dryer. it's not up to code anymore. so i will have to hand wash until i can have a day off and get to my daughter's to wash my things. *sigh* one hand of fate caresses my face and hands me $25 while the other hand slaps me hard. no more easy laundry. c'est la vie.

he is always on my mind but now, more and more and more as the days get closer to the 8th/9th. i have so much to say but i seldom write here because, well, very few ever comment to me anymore. thank you so much to the ones that do. you are the only voices i hear with regards to my grief.

possibly more read and don't know what to say, and i could put that little app on the side that lets me know who in the universe has stopped by, but i would be afraid i wouldn't see anyone there. it would hurt my feelings and i don't need my feelings hurt anymore than they already get hurt.

i've lost so many people in my life. i've met and met online so many people just through this grief journey that have turned away and left me here. i don't need to see who isn't there or never was.

there is a new playlist on Bear Radio at work. there's this song that i cannot really determine the lyrics too much but the repeating chorus is "you are the best thing that's ever been mine." it resonates with me and i find myself listening for it to come around again. when i first heard it, it snagged my heart and i was frozen for a second. now i find a little comfort in it. bittersweet. melancholy. it's haunting.
i can't believe it's almost been the end of 3 years without him. without his smiles. without his touch. without his voice. where ever he is is home. and i want to go home.

i've been very busy; working very hard. i only had 2 days off in January. busy month. nice money but i'm paid so little hourly that i bow to every hour they give me. i need them because it's never enough. my stomach is eating itself out from worry over the doctor's appointment next Tuesday before work. my stomach is eating itself with worry over what the VA will do when they get my W2. "oh, we won't be giving her anymore money now. she's on her feet." no, i'm not. i'm floundering. if they cut me off, i will have to ask my son for help. i am so scared over this.

i was asked to make a Bunny for someone at work. here she is. i've almost finished the little quilt that goes with her. i'll show you photos when it's all finished.
here is the quilt i finished recently. the widow has received it though i have not heard back from her about whether or not she or her son like it. there is a ton of embroidery in this quilt. i made 79 cents an hour on this quilt. it kills me to make so little for so much work, but i quoted her a price without knowing how much embroidery she wanted and i honor my word.
i was asked to make a Bunny for a widow in Texas. her name is Rose. she wanted flowers or clouds and the sun so i gave her both. the pants have flowers on them and the shirt has clouds and the sun.
and i took the time to make Bunny a little shirt like the one her Dragon wore. it's Marine Camo with his name embroidered over the left pocket and U.S. Marines embroidered over the right pocket. she's wearing her man's shirt at work. she honors him for me.
life scares me so much, but then so does death. will i really be reunited with him? does God want to punish me for my sometimes wicked, selfish thoughts? i am so very tired of all this. all these thoughts that i cannot stop from running through my mind. all the worries i have that i quite literally cannot do anything about. Serenity Prayer aside, my worries are about survival.

i miss him fiercely. i miss him being there to tell me it's all going to be alright. i miss him holding my hand. i miss sleeping next to him. i miss sleeping almost under him. he was so warm.

i keep thinking about what Betty White said. when she dies and goes to Heaven she hopes God says, "come in, Betty. here's Alan."

i want God to say, "come on in, Bunny. here's....." and then my Dragon interrupts God {no offense God} and says, "aww Babe, i've missed you. come on. i've found a great place by the ocean. there's a big quilt on the sand for us. let's go lay down together and let you take a nap. i know you must be tired. i've been watching over you. i know what you've been through. after your nap i'm going to show you all around. it's wonderful up here." and i look back and God and He's smiling at me, like He loves me or something, and is happy i'm finally home.

observations of human behavior from someone who doesn't really matter

or maybe I do. this could also be observations of my own behavior by what i choose to write here. our ways of communicating also reveal a lot about who we are.

i am privy to behavior and conversations that others might not have an opportunity to witness. i get to see stuff that you most likely won’t believe, but here goes anyway.

children’s names

when we talk to the children who come through, of course we ask them their names. there are always new trends in what to name a baby, but there are some names that i wonder about. that’s all. i just wonder about what the parents were thinking when they chose that name. what was their inspiration? the ones i am mentioning below are ones that i have seen more than ten times, because to see them once is only an anomaly. to see them more than 10 times could be construed as a trend.

there are the usual celebrity names, or variations thereof, from film, music, and books such as: Beyonce, Kanye, Pitt, Angiejolie, Cruise, Beckham, Witherspoon, Jolie, Paris, Clooney, Suri, Apple, Lestat, Harry, Hermoine, Bella, Edward, Cullen, Forks {i asked. it is, indeed, from the Twilight series}, Hedwig, and so on. one odd one that sticks out is Kardashian. when i smiled at one mother and said, “So you’re a fan of their shows?” she gushed, “Oh, my God, yes, and I thought we’d be the only one but there are 4 other girls named Kardashian in her pre-school.” She was very sad over this. And why she included herself in any reactions to her daughter’s name, such as praise, envy or scorn, with the word “we’d” was a little confusing.

There are the names that honor an ideal or a moral. Names like: Truth, Faith, Grace, Love, Solidarity, Journey, Sojourner, Loyal, Path, Abundance, and Thanks.

States and cities are also a favorite way to name children more and more. Boston, Austin, Dakota, Colorado, Texas, Wichita, Houston, Boise, Seattle, Mystic, to name a few.

Parents often did and still do pull names from the Bible, too. Genesis, Exodus, Psalms, Isaiah, Ezekiel, Zechariah, but there have been quite a few children who have come through with the name Revelations that eerily stand out a bit. One child named Revelations was a distantly cold child who flat out told me I was going straight to Hell for being the in the cult called Catholism.

There is the trend to name children after a favorite pastime. One such family had four boys and one girl. Remington, Magnum, Colt, Smith, and the girl was named Gunner. They were hunters. There was a mother who brought in her daughters Dolce, Coco, and Vanderbilt who had her latest edition of “W” magazine in her Burkin Bag.

Then there are the names that sort of escape me. There have only been one of each of these but they were so unusual that they stuck in my mind. Hardwick, Pessel, Trahorn, Alboom, Fillup, and Female; this last one being pronounced Fem-a-lee. I try very hard not to ask to many questions about the names but sometimes, sometimes I do wonder.

Parenting Styles

I know I have written of parents sending out mixed signals, giving the example of self-entitlement, and using mind murder to gain the upper hand with their children, but it never ceases to be interesting how parents handle their children. I often wonder what kind of adults these children will be after being raised like this. Most of these examples go beyond a random bad day. These behaviors seem coded into the parents who are coding them into the children.

A woman with a ten-year-old daughter came into the store. The overweight daughter was holding a waffle cone basket of ice cream. It had three scoops, toppings, sprinkles, and whipped cream. I would never have used the word overweight to describe this child because of the insensitivity of it, but it comes from listening to their conversations being carried out right not even four feet in front of me.

Mom: “The doctor said you need to lose 75 pounds. Why I let you talk me into that ice cream boat is beyond me.” To me she said, “We’ve just stopped in the mall to get a bite to eat. We’ve come back from the doctor. We’re just looking real quick. She needs a little treat after the doctor’s visit.”

The girl selected a bear to stuff. “I want this one. Stuff it.” She tossed it at me with one hand and went right back to eating.

Mom: “Don’t act that way! Oh, my God, how rude! No bear. We’re not buying anything.”

Girl: “I want it. If you want me to go back to school then buy it for me.” There was no hesitation in the daughter’s voice, no cajoling, no pleading. She was confident she was getting what she wanted. My guess from all her brief years on this Earth of getting her way.

Mom: “I shouldn’t be doing this, but okay; but just the bear. No clothes.”

We both know where this is going. The mother spent over $130 on clothes, shoes, and accessories for this bear with the daughter eating the ice cream the whole time. She continued to order me around while ignoring her mother that she was being rude to me. Her mother also kept up her mantra, “I shouldn’t let you do this, so this is the last thing.”

As they left the store the daughter turned right while the mother went left.

Mom: “The car is this way.”

Girl: “Disney store and the food court is down this way.”

Mom wheeled around and followed in her daughter’s wake. I heard her voice getting smaller as they walked away, “I shouldn’t be doing this, so this is absolutely the last thing you get today.”

I have stood by and listened to children call their mother’s or father’s stupid, ridiculous, morons, and the horrific word, “retard.” I have heard children accuse their parents of lying saying, “You told me you were broke but you bought that medicine for {insert name of sibling}. I want this now so get it for me.”

I have seen older children, in the 12 – 15 age bracket that distain the whole experience in the store yet demand to get whatever they want. They say things like, “This place is stupid.” “I’m not putting a heart inside my bear. That’s dumb.” “This bear is stupid.” “I’m gonna take this bear home and kill it. What do you think about that?”

To the child who wanted to murder her bear I merely looked at them for a long moment with full eye contact, and said, “I think that you’re feeling very sad inside. I feel sorry for you. I hope you get better soon.”

I have stood at the register and had children slam their hands on the desk screaming at the top of their lungs because they wanted something else. I’ve had them grab things and stuff them in their bags and run out of the store trying to steal it right in front of their parents believing {most of the time correctly} that the parents will have to buy what they want. I have had bored children who are getting every single thing they want order me to “hurry up because I have somewhere I have to be. Give me the f-ing bag now!” Or the one that makes me truly grit my teeth: “Get a move on, Lady. I want it now!”

In these few select cases that I have chosen to share here, none of the parents held their children accountable at the moment of this behavior.

Children All Grown Up ~ Both Kinds

There are children who act very grown up; too grown up. There are pre-teen little girls dressed very provocatively who are hanging out with boys much too old for them. Not sixteen, not fifteen, but eleven and twelve-year olds who are trying so very hard to act eighteen and nineteen. And they boys they are with are sixteen and seventeen. These girls are not annoying little sisters. They are the “girlfriends” of these boys whose arms are draped around their small shoulders and whose hands touch them in places here in public that they should not be touching at all. I have asked one of the mall cops if he has observed this behavior and he said that he had. He is a retired New York City policeman who works there at the mall. He said their behavior is one that worries him but he cannot do anything since they are not doing anything. It is a parenting issue until it becomes a police issue. By then the parents, I think, will be either wishing they had parented a little more or they will be blaming someone else.

Boys come through the store who do little things, odd, quirky things that stick in my mind. They steal hearts. We have soft little satin hearts that we put in our animals freely when you stuff and buy them. There are some girls that do this but I mostly see boys do it. They walk quietly up to the bin and reach in and steal handfuls of them. When I say, “Would you like a heart,” implying I would let them maybe take one, they dash off with their handfuls. Their parents seldom make them put them back.

Boys from the ages of around five or six on up to older boys in their late teens and very early twenties do something that, I must admit, sort of gets to me. I never say anything to the guest but we have talked about it after work. We have underwear for both genders of bears. If you want a little girl bear and you put a dress on her, you can also put on a little pair of panties. We have cotton ones, satin ones, one with Hello Kitty on them. Very pretty. These boys pick up the underwear and sniff them. You read that right. They pick up the underwear and hold them to their noses. The older boys do it as a pack and laugh then try to catch the eye of any female around. When they catch me looking they do have the sense to look a little sheepish since I am old enough to be their much older mother, but the attitude seems to other women seems very demeaning. They much younger, little boys do it alone and try to be secretive about it. For a child barely in first grade, I have to wonder why they do it. Have they seen other boys do this? Is it something that they’ve seen at home? I am just curious since it is such a common practice that I see it virtually ten or more times a week.

Older children, the ones already grown up and out of college, the ones who are married with possibly families of their own act no better at times than the children they are raising.

It was after we had closed on New Year’s Eve. The manager on that night, last night to be honest, and I were tired and really wanted to go home. This man was still in the store shopping having come five minutes before closing. We were trying to re-stock for the next day, closing one of our registers, all the myriad of things we need to do before we can leave the store. He was ambling around as if he had all the time in the world and in fact, he sort of did. He wasn’t meeting his girlfriend whom he was buying the bear for for another three hours. At last he came to the register after the store had been closed for fifteen minutes and said, “I’ve decided I want to put a sound in my bear.”

If we could have lifted our collective heads and sighed at the ceiling we would have. Instead we did our jobs. But after that young man left, we did talk about his lack of awareness of our feelings.

I have had a man be very rude to me in front of his son to the point where the son, probably around thirteen or fourteen, say to his father, “Dad, that was pretty rude. I think you hurt her feelings.” The father looked at his son and said, in front of me, “She just works here. She doesn’t matter.” The father looked at me and nodded, asking, “Right?”

I looked at the father and said, “I matter to someone. I know I don’t matter to you. Now how can I be of further help?” My smile was very slight. My eyes were not smiling at all. I tried to carry my body with dignity and grace. I did my job and I was not haughty. I am of service to the people who come into that store but I am not their servant. The father smiled at me and then looked back at his son. He said, “See? She knows she doesn’t matter. It’s okay. That’s the way it is with these people. They know their place.”

After the father was standing at the register, his son came and found me putting shoes on a tiger for a little boy. He leaned down and said, “I’m sorry. I think you’re pretty great and helpful. I’m not my dad.” Then he rushed away; possibly worrying his father would catch him not being just like him.

Hostile Work Environment

Not all curious interactions are between our guests and us. Some are behind the scenes with each other. There is one person I work with during some shifts who seems to wish I were not there. When she first started working there, the first words out of her mouth were, “I’ve heard of you. You’re the top person. I’m gonna take you down. I’m going to be the best and put you down.”

I said, “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry, you didn’t tell me your name. What is it?”

She has made it an adversarial atmosphere for me at every turn. She is a hard worker but her style is not my style. Instead of talking to the guest about themselves, she talks mostly about herself. She talks about her master’s degree. She talks about her recent marriage and the gifts she received. She talks about how much she is valued and loved. I have to admit that the guests who interact with her smile and nod their heads. They seem to be having a nice time. It is possible that hearing her talk about herself all through the inclusion of our time that overlaps our shifts is only grating to me, but I do wish she would allow our guests to do more talking about themselves. Their visit for us is all about them anyway.

We had an incentive program to sell a certain product and the reward was a little pin. This employee started collecting one for every group she sold and wears them. She points them out to our guests saying she is the top seller, that no one else has more than one. None of us wear more than one because the program is over. We all still sell them. We all, percentage wise, are doing very well. We just do not cover ourselves with the reward, mostly because this girl took all the pins. There are none left for the other employees. It does grate when she comes up to us, points out her pins and says, “I’ve sold more than you. I’m better than you.”

I have gotten to the point of holding up my hand to stop her and tell her, “Yes, you are better than me. Now as floor leader I need you to return to your station and work.”

She does not like it that I am floor leader and can assign her to tasks. I tread very carefully with her. She grits her teeth and smiles and salutes me. She says, “Yes, ma’am” through those gritted teeth. There is a darkness in her eyes that I am very aware of. I have overheard her speaking poorly of me behind my back to another employee. I cannot call her out on it. It would cause a disturbance throughout the rest of the workforce, and it does not affect her work, or mine, or the smooth running of the store. The person she talks to is her best friend who also works at the store but will be leaving soon to go back to college. This girl also has quite the arrogant attitude that does not play well into dealing with guests at our store or in her doing what I ask of her. But as I said, she will be leaving. I still have to live with the girl who detests me.

I say detests me because it has come to a little bit of sabotage. Two examples. One. She follows me at times and tries to interfere or interject in my conversations with our guests. She will leave her station and come to where I am and eavesdrop until she can say something that brings her in. It is annoying to me and to our guest and I have had guests complain about it. I have spoken to her about it and she becomes defensive and uses mind murder to twist the scenario. “I was just trying to help. I know the store better than you do.” She does not as she does not work the hours I do, nor checks stock as I do, but she thinks it sounds good. I have to tell her she kept a guest waiting at another station for the interruption and she gets tensely angry at my pointing that out. But it is my job to make the flow through the tore run smoothly and to make a guest wait on her to come and interrupt a conversation between me and another guest is not correct behavior.

Two, the only other example I will give is this one. We give parties at the store. We do not accept tips. A man was trying to tip me for his daughter’s party when she walked up and said, “Oh, no, you can’t accept that. I’m shocked you would try to. Sir, she can’t accept that money. It could get her fired.”

The man was shocked that she spoke that way. He came to my defense and said, “If you and stopped to listen instead of rushing up here you’d know she had already explained that to me. You need to listen better and trust your employees more. She did a fabulous job, which I knew she would, which was why I requested her for the party. You interrupted a conversation here for absolutely no reason. You may step back and let us finish this on a more pleasant note.”

She was appalled and shocked that she was spoken to that way but he was our guest and there was nothing she could do. He was in the position of power and truly a powerful man in this city. He works in the district attorney’s office and carries quite a bit of weight within this city’s government. She had no idea who she had offended which brings the point up of you never know with whom you are dealing.

She said to me later, “I just thought you didn’t know. I didn’t mean to piss him off. Does he know my name? Do you think he’s gonna comment on it about me?” I told her I am a manager-in-training. I have worked here for quite some time now and was taught parties by the manager herself. I know what to do and what not to do. I also told her I had no idea what he would do and left it at that.

There is a vibe about her that makes me wary. It makes that particular shift heavy. I never know when I turn around if I am going to bump into her. I never know if she is going to salute me as a dictator when I merely ask and make assignment. I never know why she stares at me with that dark look. There is a coiled tension about her that has me on edge. She has dropped so many little hints, done so much chipping away at me. My work does not suffer but I find I am more exhausted after a shift with her than at any other time. It is oppressive and there is nothing I can do short of all this she said, I said. I feel this, she makes me feel that. Heresay. Impressions. Not worth upsetting the apple cart. I can endure it for the sake of the job.

But I wish more people would honor the Golden Rule. Do unto others. It really would help the world run a little more smoothly.

So this is my latest contribution. It is merely a collection of observations of things I have seen people do from someone who “doesn’t really matter.” But I think I do matter. I matter to the handful of guests who come through who really need me there to help them. I matter to the few guests who come through hurting; like the woman who is a recent widow and wanted to make a bear dressed like her husband, who wanted to put a recording of his voice in her bear so she can hold it whenever she feels her grief too intensely, which I know from experience can be almost all the time. I mattered to the family who came through with their mom who put her voice in both her daughter’s bears and who later that week died from breast cancer.

And I mattered last night, New Year’s Eve, to the little girl with no hair who wished with all her might on her tiny satin heart that she would “not die tonight.” Her hug was so strong that no, I do not think she did die last night.

winter feelings

the song that starts off this blog is not one that particularly relates to my grief. i just like it. that's what music is for.

i miss my camera. Bunny is looking pretty cute these days with some Christmas clothes i made her but i have no way of showing you.

people are so strange at work. they are either decent and fun or they are obnoxious and greedy and arrogant. there is no in-between. i was doing a heart ceremony for a little girl when a man in his 60's, very well-dressed, put his arrogant, self-entitled hand between my face and the face of the child i was helping and snapped his arrogant, self-entitled fingers. his words to me?

"get up and come help me, NOW." yes, emphasis on the "now."

i patiently told him i would be right with him. his "BITCH!" echoed through the store as he left in a huff. my manager patted me on the back later and said i had done the right thing. you don't abandon a child mid-heart ceremony.

a child came up to me and demanded i stuff her bear. her mother apologized for her attitude. i was patient. {i am always patient.} when it came time for the heart, she reached in the bin with both hands and grabbed so many little satin hearts that quite a few fell to the floor. her mother was horrified and told her to put them all back and take only one. i encouraged her to take only one by saying that there were so many other children who will be coming and will want hearts in their bears.

"i don't care about them. they can go suck it." {she was 10. this child was 10 years old.}

her mother gasped. "if you continue to talk like that i'm not getting the bear."

"yes, you are. you always get me what i want."

and sadly, the little girl got the bear, clothes, underbears - underwear for bears, shoes, purse, a $38 pink wardrobe for the clothes, a little bear cell phone, and a backpack like i carry Bunny in.

but the bear only got one heart.

i told her she could only put one heart in the bear. i held the bear, looking at her, and speaking in a low tone. i simply said, "i need you to put back every single heart, taking only one for your bear. this is a day, just a day when your mom decided to do something nice for you. and the bear? she's not greedy. she only wants one heart. please, put them all back and just pick out one for her. that's all she wants. one heart. one little girl to take care of her."

one heart in the bear. one small conversation in a gentle voice. but the rest of the time there, the little girl was tragically greedy.

and then there was the little girl who was home "visiting" from St. Jude's Children's Hospital where she's being treated for a brain tumor. she came home to "visit" because her mother is dying of her own form of cancer and won't make it to Christmas. the family brought them in for Bunny to help them make bears. the mother put her voice on a Build-A-Sound so the little girl can take it back to St. Jude's with her. the little girl put her voice on a Build-A-Sound so her mother will have it.

and yes, i was excused for a break after they all left the store so i could go to the back room and let go a little bit, and then compose myself to get back out there.

i miss my Dragon. i miss telling him about my day. i miss his holding me and feeling his warmth.

Christmas is coming and i wish he were here.

a police officer who is assigned to the area comes to the Mall a lot to do his beat; to do a walk through. the Mall is part of his assignment. i have gotten to know him. he is my age and will retire in 2 more years he says. he found out i was a widow. he has asked me to lunch.

and i told him, "no. i'm sorry. i hope our conversations did not mislead you. but going out to lunch with you would be unfair to you. i am still in love with my husband. i'm not ready for anything beyond friendship."

he was very gracious. he told me i had not mislead him at all. he knows i wear my wedding rings. he had just asked one of the other girls because he has never seen my husband come to pick me up or even visit me during work. he had just wondered and then had become interested in me. "i see you with the customers. you're so sweet. and i see how the kids love you. i was drawn to that. and any woman who can wear a bunny on her back and carry if off like you do is worth knowing. we'll be friends. how about that?"

i agreed and we shook on it.

a few days later he brought me a slip of paper that had a quote on it he had found.

it said, "we need time to miss the people and the things we lose no matter whether the loss is temporary or permanent." this quote comes from one of my favorite people. Mister Rogers.

it was cold when he had to leave me. he went where i cannot yet go. it is getting colder again. Christmas is coming. New Year's. my birthday. then his anniversary. his. just his. the anniversary of his having to leave me.

December, January, February. one-quarter of a year to get through. me and Bunny. we'll get by.

trying to be what she's not.

Bunny has been down, again, still, whatever. it is the same tune, different day.

so whatever. she is sad and is not getting really any better. she has hit a plateau in her grief. is there another place she should be at, or on? she cannot see it from where she is. just one day after another. that's all she does. she has no real future.

shit. bad vibes again. stop it, Bunny. keep those negative thoughts for your personal journal.

brighter posts. faux good times.

they let us wear Halloween costumes at work for that weekend. Bunny has been working on hers. she wants to be a forest fairy. here are the wings she made. she has been working on them off and on since July.

so here she is.
and the back.
Bunny loves her wings.

she wishes she could "fly me away with you, my love."

Bunny smiles to herself when she thinks about what Dragon would say about her silly, glittery forest fairy wings.

*sigh*

naming what i feel

i do not know what this is that i am feeling.

i am grateful for my job. i want to and need to keep it year round.

i am grateful for my children. they are grown and do not need me though; not like they did when they were small.

i sew for others. i am grateful to be able to do this. maybe i will be remembered when i am gone. or the idea of me will be remembered.

i feel trapped though. i feel crushed and surrounded by grief and worry.

i feel like i do not have enough time left and yet i cannot define what i really mean by that.

i miss him. my Dragon had brought me back to life. i only existed for such a long, long time.

i had created the ideas of fantasy and dreams, wishes and hopes for my children. i wanted them to have lives. then i met my Dragon and a world opened to me. we had dreams and love. we had hopes and love. we had plans and our love for each other.

and they all died with him. everything died with him.

i am treading water carrying sorrow and doubt and worry and stress. will there ever be less of those things? will i ever feel the pressure leave my chest?

is this despair? what is this that i am feeling? i honestly do not know. is this normal? 22 months on Thursday. "{despair is} the worst betrayal, the coldest seduction: to believe at last that the enemy will prevail." ~ M. Piercy. who is my enemy? myself and my inability to get control of my grief and worry over money? death who took my lovely Dragon away? my mother who trained me to be submissive? Voldemort who tried to convince me i was not worth loving? who is my enemy?

all i know is lately, i wake up sobbing. i go to bed more exhausted than ever before. i am drained of every bit of energy i started the day with which was precious little.

something has happened that i cannot speak about, but my Christmas is ruined. i hurt so much over it. i have been writing in my journal for a couple of months about it, but i find it is not enough. i want to scream outside somewhere. i want to raise my fist and scream in anger at the universe that sets these things up like this. haven't i suffered enough? you want more from me? what's left? what do i have left that i am not supposed to have? i am pretty low right now. i have been stripped of so much already and i really did not have that much to start with.

i had my little Dragon Christmas tree decorated. i am considering taking the lights off so that i am not tormented with having them there but not turning them on to save on the electric bill. but then the Whos of Whoville had all their decorations taken away and celebrated anyway. am i any less a Who? people do not know Who i am. all they know of me is the brief time we have spent together, either online, on the phone, or some time in person which has not been long. i have no long time friends. only people who have known me since my Dragon died. so if i take down the lights i hesitate to turn on, will i be any less a Who? will i regret not having them there for the one moment i may want to see them on for a few minutes?

see the abstract queries my mind plagues me with? i do not need this.

oh, please, stop. please just let me be. i am not asking for anything. the only thing i am asking for is this job to stay permanent so i can pay rent and eat. two things that a lot of people take for granted as is their right. have a roof and eating is not really a right. it can be a luxury for some people. fighting for it, working so hard for it, and then to have something else happen to ruin Christmas.

i want my Dragon. i would not balk at the ride ending so i can go to where he is waiting. there is so much pain here.

wouldn't it be nice to imagine Beach Bunny closing her eyes and then her soul opens to seeing him drawing in the sand on a beach somewhere in Heaven? he is obviously waiting for his Bunny. he still loves her.

it is a better vision than the nightmares i have been having the last almost 3 weeks. in all the dreams the locations are different. the set up is different. but the plot is the same. i am searching for my Dragon and i just miss him, or he is not there, or has moved on and i am too late. i startle awake and then i sob. i cry for upwards of half an hour. exhausted, i fall back asleep. is this despair? or is this simply being close to but not quite at 2 year?

22 months on Thursday. a ruined Christmas. fear. stress. worry. waning energy. insomnia. deep intense grief. i am coping as best as i can. i keep up the pretense at work. i crumple back here at the apartment. i make as many people happy as i can. i have not and will not give up.

but i do not know what this is that i am feeling. i do not have a name for it. i am in pain. my soul is in anguish.

and the only one who can give me comfort, the only one who ever loved me, is in this urn.

holidays, work, & the Bun

the Bun is writing today since she will be a little busy and does not know when she will post again. she has a lot on her plate. oh, Lordy, Lordy. she will be a busy girl. sewing, quilting, stuffing bears, dressing bears {and by bear we mean bunnies and bears and puppies and kittens and wolves and Abominable Snowmen and reindeer, etc.}. she will also be grieving.

such a difference a year makes. 21 months, yeah, yeah, she knows the week and day and hour, but this time around her little eyes are wide awake. life has smacked her and smacked her, well, like it does for a lot of us, and yet it has given her some blessings. she got to go to the Soul Widows retreat. she has someone to talk to now once a week. she has a job. she has her children. and she has her memories of her lovely, lovely Dragon.

and she has her Christmas Tree.

this is her Dragon Tree. he bought it for her when it was just a twiggy thing in a tiny pot. now it has grown into this pretty little bit larger tree and for the first time she can decorate it for Christmas. Dragon tree. Bunny and her daughter went to Wally World aka Wal-Mart to get food for Thanksgiving and she got little twinkle lights and tiny ornaments for it.
they decorated it together since no one, absolutely no one should decorate a tree alone. yes, the Bun had egg nog. no, she did not spike it. the Bun goes easy on the demon rum since she is a giggly girl. besides, Dragon tree kind of leans a little bit anyway and we do not need Bunny leaning.
Bunny's much taller daughter helped her put the star on Dragon Tree. now, now, we know it is early but Bunny has her hours at her other job and she knows she will be busy there. then she will come home and sew and quilt and embroidery. she will be busy at home. all she wants to do is work and earn the almighty dollar so she can merely exist. but hey, some living has to go on. she wants to come home and turn on Christmas lights.
and so she will. lovely Dragon tree. sad, Dragonless little Bun.

she is headed into the holiday season wide awake. she is still in pain. she is still missing her Dragon, but the difference is now she knows exactly how much. shock and numbness are fading and the sharp, deep aching pain of his absence is felt in every fiber of her furry little body. she hopes all this work will help her hold back the tears until she falls into bed. she hopes the frenetic work she will be doing to keep up with deadlines and the long lines of people wanting stuffing for their new friends and clothes and accessories for them will keep her blind to what day it is, how close it is to Christmas, to the fact that her Dragon is not waiting for her at the apartment.

one day, Bunny is aware, her grief will be less sharp. she will always feel it. it chafes now from all the financial woes that add to her worry. Bunny is not so much on the road of grief towards healing so much as she on a meandering path of grief. Bunny has always done it different. she is wandering around her field of grief and her forest of grief. her life now filled with sorrow and she is stopping to look at flower that grows there, touch every tree that spreads its branches to the sky, and take a picture of every cloud that floats by. she is taking a picture of each evening there is a moon. Bunny is laying down to look up and is not afraid to keep laying there. she is not static. she is just meditating before she makes a move. this is more of a stroll for Bunny than it is a bona fide official journey of any kind.

looking back she believes she is making progress, some progress. Bunny no longer compares her grief with others. she is far too busy. she has far too many worries without wondering where she falls on the Great Timeline of Sorrow. she will just go her own way. holidays and work. the Bun will try to get through it. then she will skippity-do past her birthday.

early in February she will find a flower in a wide field and sit down again. she will mentally rest and wait for that wall of water that is the second anniversary of her Dragon's death. she will tumble and swirl and spin underwater until after Valentine's Day, the anniversary of his funeral that was so tragic. then she guesses she will get up and meander around again. Bunny's journey of grief will take a long, long time. she will love him and want him and miss him until she dies.

Bun hopes you like her Dragon Christmas Tree. she talks to him and hugs his pot all the time. she hopes all who read have a wonderful, peaceful Thanksgiving holiday, or a very good Thursday wherever you live and however you spend it.

peace to all who read. peace and light to all who grieve.