the path ~ Soul Widows

“Life is March weather, savage and serene in one hour.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

it is true. life is a wild ride that has no hint of what is around the corner. no one can do more than plan and then, as my Marine husband used to say, “improvise, adapt, and overcome.” i have redone my song list. i let it play while i sew. it plays out my story, not unlike using the language of flowers to send a note. i am sending notes {musical} to speak what i cannot say.

i always thought i would die first. i am nothing special and can only offer my interpretations of life as i see it through sewing, painting, photography, woodcarvings, and stained glass.

me wishing for love created before i met my Dragon

i also give everyone my two cents here. sometimes they throw it back but i can only be who i am. and who i am is that i do not know what to do with myself. yes, i sew and work my behind off on it, but why was it him that left this world first? why not me? my Dragon was so much more full of life. i have never met anyone with the energy and the, i do not know if i should even use the word. aura. no, that is not the direction i want to go. but there was something about him that made people look at him, go to him; everyone gravitated to him. he lived every moment of his life while i have been trained to ask permission to breathe.

this is the path my Dragon and i always took to the cove we lived beside. it is a spiritual path and one that we walked very slowly on.

life presents a path in front of each of us. it is sometimes easy and sometimes hard. sometimes it takes us close to Hell, close enough that we believe we are there. my path had kept me close to Hell for over 40 years, and then i met my Dragon and he lead me to his path. it was such a beautiful journey. no matter the season, where he walked there was such beauty and joy and love. yes, we had difficult times. sometimes he would get a call and look at me as he listened. if the only thing he said was, “i’ll be waiting,” i knew he was leaving on a mission. the "go bag" was ready and off he would go somewhere doing something. i would miss him and worry about him, but he did come back to me. i had the privilege of having him die in my arms. he was with me when it happened. it is a double-edged sword.

walking back down the road to our old house after checking the mail. our place was tucked way back in by the cove.

now i am on my path alone again. it is no longer his path, or our path. it is mine and it is so strange. i wish for a friend. i wish for a little more freedom. the VA called a couple of weeks ago and they hope to have something for me in “3 – 4 weeks.” my fingers are crossed that my days of being a burden to you-know-who is over. i really need to be able to breathe.

i am going on another widow’s retreat. i think i can guess what is crossing your mind. let me say that i was not ready for Camp Widow. i did not know what to expect. i keep my head down all the time and seldom look up. it was large and noisy and it came during my Dragon Days, birthday, 18-month milestone, and our wedding anniversary. i was afraid to be away from my apartment. i admit i was intimidated.

this retreat is a spiritual one. it is organized by Elizabeth Woods who founded Soul Widows. http://www.soulwidows.org/ she has gifted me with a scholarship to go and be a part of something smaller, more intimate, in a beautiful old bed and breakfast in Tryon, NC close to the Blue Ridge Mountains. she offers personal interaction and group therapy, art therapy, rituals and journal writing. we will go outside to a place called Pearson’s Falls where i am sure, that first weekend in November when the retreat occurs, the beautiful trees and fresh air will renew my spirit. i see this retreat as more along the lines of what i need at this time. it is a place where i may be part of a small group. i will have a turn to talk and be heard and i will be given the privilege of listening to and being strong for someone else.

i want to honor Elizabeth’s gift to me by writing about her retreat and my excitement in going. i cannot explain why i already feel such elated anticipation in going, but it feels right. her website speaks to me in a quiet way that i crave. the tone reminds me of my Dragon, when he would be gentle with me when i was scared or upset. sacred is the only word i can come up with.

i plan on taking Bunny and my camera and writing about our time there. Bunny is very excited and is checking the weather to see if she will need her Dragon’s watch cap to keep her little fuzzy head warm.

i am on a path i never wanted to be on. i honestly did not believe he would die first. he is so strong both in body and spirit. and his heart? a heart attack? seriously? his heart was enormous in an emotional and spiritual sense. i never thought it would quit on him. i had wanted to go first even though i am afraid of everything. like new adventures. i am scared to live and scared to die. i am a huge mess and yet, i know he loved me, loves me? loves me. i love him and miss him terribly. but i am looking forward to feeling connected to something and someone, everyone, through Soul Widows. i am already packed and ready to go in my mind.

and as for my path now, wherever it takes me, my mind will always long for the ocean. maybe one day i will be allowed the chance to finish my life beside it again.

the boardwalk over the dunes to Good Harbor Beach in Gloucester; just a short but gloriously meandering 4 mile walk from our place.

for now, i am living a life with my Dragon alive inside me. i am reaching for one where i feel blessed to tell others about him. i am working on being the woman i was when he was alive beside me. the Dragon's widow. the Dragon's wife. i want to see him smiling when i rejoin him.

why are you still here? / ivy covered brain

i have been working today without pause, music playing to soothe the muse. there are so many things on my mind, so many things i want to make. and there are so many worries pressing on my chest. with all this mulling over of thoughts in my mind, the inevitable question comes to mind. it is the one that was asked of me recently.

"why are you still here?"

why am i still here? what am i good for? my children are grown and my Dragon has died. my little dogs love me and need me, but somehow i think they would get along okay should my face turn up on a milk carton. oh, for gosh sakes, i need to make a list and have Bunny be me so you have visuals.

i can sew. i make quilts for people. i can take any article of clothing, all of them given to me, and put them together to make a quilt to offer comfort. i listen to the stories of grief from others and take them into my mind. i hold it all close so that i can design something as close to perfect as i can. and then i ask the person who died how they want the quilt to look.

okay, you caught me. i put pins in my mouth and you should NOT do that so ignore the pins in Bunny’s mouth and look at her as she eyeballs the quilt she is making for someone. she is so intent on getting it right. i do the same thing. i want every quilt to be exactly what the person who commissioned it needs it to be.

i am a good housekeeper. i keep the apartment very neat and tidy. yes, i even put my hair back to get all the tough places. i vacuum behind and underneath the furniture and, as Bunny demonstrates, i even do windows.

i can do pretty embroidery. i can do counted cross stitch but i can also draw anything for anyone on anything and embroider it for them. i can do whatever anyone wants with a needle and thread. i tie my ears back, i mean my hair, and work so hard to please. that is a good thing.

but i need to admit that while all those things are good points, and might warrant me my quota of oxygen, i do feel that what i was here for, mostly, was for him, my Dragon. he would have been alone when he died if it had not been for me being there with him. i took care of him before he died. i took care of him as he died. and i sat with his silent body after he died. i touched his beard. i smoothed his hair. and i talked to him and told him i was going to take care of him in exactly the way he had asked me to should this tragedy happen to him first.

i am with him still, now that he has gone. i will always be the Dragon’s wife. it is just something i feel very deeply. “never say never,” but how about “i know for pretty sure that this is the way it’s going to be.”

i love him and i miss him, sometimes terribly. sometimes so much so that i cannot breath. i claw at my neck and chest and have to stand up. i drop my needle and start looking for a way out. but there is no way out of not getting to grow old with him. then it hits me as a deep melancholia that crawls around inside me. it is akin to the English Ivy that people allow to grow unchecked. it curls around everything, getting longer, reaching further and further, encroaching into places one might not want it to go. my melancholia is like ivy growing inside me and i have to cut it back. i have to be diligent though, or it will, i fear, take over and cover my brain and then i will end up like a saddened old mountain man alone in his shack, muttering to himself and his dogs.

a woman just called me. M. hey, M. if you’re reading this, it was great talking to you. you interrupted, thankfully, some pretty dark musings. {pssst. i told you i had a photo of your embroidery work here.} we had a lovely conversation and it gave me the opportunity to remember and share with her something i try to keep close to the forefront of my brain that the ivy had covered up today.

my Dragon lived every single day of his life to the fullest extent. he breathed deeply every breath he took. he ate and really enjoyed the sights, tastes, and smells of his food. he watched over me and loved walking with me, seeing what i took pictures of. he loved listening to me and encouraged me to talk. oh, and he loved my laugh. he loved touching me, touching the wet sand to pull out shells and sand dollars. he loved petting the dogs. he loved helping me cull and work with our plants. and when we cuddle together to watch television or read, his fingers would stray into my hair, and he would finger comb it without even realizing it.

i am his wife and i should do no less. how a man like that could love a woman like me is beyond me but i am not going to look a gift horse in the mouth now. however i can with my limited means, i will live every day of the rest of my time here. i will work for, grab at, and beg for chances to live. he always liked that saying, “slide into home with a wealth of really great stories.” so i am going to collect all the stories of my life so that when i slide into “home” in a great cloud of dust and little rocks slinging about, i will have the most wonderful stories to tell him. he will pull me into his lap to hold me while i tell him all the things i did and wrote about and took pictures of. and when i feel his fingers absentmindedly combing my hair, i will finally feel at home. i am back with my Dragon again. it is finally going to be all right.

Bunny and Dragon snuggle up for SyFy Saturday night, the most terrifying night on television, we hope.

touch

it is the 9^th month of this year and it is the 9^th of another month. 19 months today. i still mark time. i feel things deeply on the 8^th/9^th of each month and during the week of the full moon.

it has been 19 months since the last time i touched him, since he touched me. i feel every one of the days, every minute that has passed since i was lying in his arms in bed with my hand on his chest over his heart. it was so sudden. i still cannot get over how sudden it was. i could not believe it when it was happening and when i failed to save him, well; there is nothing more to say than this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. to have him die under my hands while i tried to save him. to try and breathe for him. to call to him. to feel the kind of cold you cannot ever get warm from. he died while i was trying to save him. i lost him.

i love him. it has not lessened with the passing of this time. i realize it has only been a year and seven months, but i am not doing any better. the only thing is that i am more awake to feel it. i am now able to feel how hollowed out i am from the anguish of his death. i miss him and i feel every day that passes as if it were an Exacto knife cutting my flesh. the blade slices through and at first you do not feel the pain. what you feel first is the cold that antagonizes the exposed tissue. then the burning pain hits. my grief can be like that for me.

we were very involved with each other when he was alive. i have never felt more alive than when i was with him. now that he has died, i feel like an empty form of the woman i could have been allowed to be, just waiting for the plaster to be poured inside, only the sculptor has died so she will remain unfinished. i am not the person i was when my Dragon lived. had you met me once bDd and then met me now, these 19 months later, you would be truly shocked. day and night.

if you have actually met me now, you know i am not as pretty as Bunny; the fuzzy stuffed one that is my stand-in. what life has done to me is etched on my face. the wretchedness i feel is apparent in my eyes. desperation can be heard in my voice. i am at the lowest point i have ever been in my entire life, both financially and in the way i feel about myself and if you had the Cliff's Notes of my life you would realize how low that is. before he died, when i was with my Dragon, i was something. when he looked at me, i felt like he had touched me. his smiles gave me the same thrill that i got when he would run his fingers over my face. every glance he gave me was akin to being touched by him.

he has magic hands. they are so rough that they are smooth, like fine sandpaper. his grip was always firm. when he held my hand, he never lost it even when our hands were sweaty. he held onto me as if he were afraid to ever let go. it was as if holding my hand was all the joy he needed from life. and when he held me in his arms, he held me tight. he loved me and he conveyed it through the power of his touch.

the mere brush of his lips to my cheek, my wrists, my palms, and onto my own lips could penetrate down to my soul. our eyes were always closed his lips touched my skin. i cannot put words to the feelings that raced through me. i felt wanted. i felt beautiful. for the first time, i felt like a woman and i could tell i was truly loved. he did not ask anything of me other than to be with me, and me with him. all we wanted in this world was to be together.

how do i live without him? how do i breathe? some nights, some days, it all feels too much. it is too hard to accept a world without him in it. i would rather be asleep, half dozing, and dream he and i are together by the ocean, in the mountains, hiking, planting a garden, lying tangled on the sofa reading together, or in bed. “to sleep perchance to dream.”

he is my first love. i know how sad that sounds, and unreal. but it is true. he is my first love. he is the first person to love me and it was such a powerful thing. it was tangible. you could hear the music of our love when we talked to each other. you could see the electricity between us. constant touching. fingers laced. quick kisses snatched in public places. silent communication exchanged in looks at each other. we were meant to be together. i wish we could have been allowed to start much earlier in our lives.

i will never be the same. my Dragon and i are like a Fisher-Price puzzle for preschoolers. there are four pieces to the puzzle. there are 3 pieces that form a triangle around a center piece. the daughter piece on the lower left touches the son piece that sits on the lower right. both of these pieces reach up to touch the wife/mother piece. the shape of a Dragon is in the center and that piece is now missing. and the wife/mother piece of this tragic little puzzle has had to swap places with the daughter piece for the simple reason that she has fallen to her knees in such grief that she cannot stand it sometimes.

there times when it is almost too much to bear. like now. tonight. all i want is to be touched by my Dragon again. i want to be enveloped in his big strong arms and feel his lips on my ear; his breath whispering to me that this has all been a bad dream. i want to hear his deep whiskey voice tell me that he is “not going anywhere, love. I will never leave my Bunny. Dragons live forever, remember?”

“hey diddle diddle the cat in the fiddle is a lie like all the rest. the astronauts killed the man in the moon and growing up took care of the rest.”

“Dragons may live forever but not so little boys.” they grow into men who have to die and leave their Bunny. do you see that? Dragon died. Bunny lives. can you hear that Sesame Street song play in your head? “one of these things is not like the other. one of these things just doesn’t belong.” Dragons are strong and eternal. Bunnies are weak and are supposed to only cry once, on the moment they are killed. i am crying all the time. okay, not every minute of every day, but every day i cry for him. if he could hear i wonder if it sounds like bunnies dying all over the place?

i have cut up a lot of his clothes for two quilts, the one on the wall that i need to fix and the one i just finished, plus the pillowcase i made for me. i cannot throw anything away. off and on i have worked on this late at night. i am piecing all the bits and pieces together, for a quilt? it is going to be another quilt. i plan on embroidering flowers on a whole bunch of the pieces to follow a poem i wrote to him a long time ago. this quilt will recite that poem in the language of flowers. this will convey a deeply personal message.

one day it will amount to something very special, like I never did, except that a Dragon once loved me.

i pray he does not see this hollowed out woman in the shadows that i have slid back into being, but i also pray that he is waiting for me. i pray he will come and get me when it is my turn to fly to the other side of the moon. i pray i will feel his warm, steady touch to guide me along. and finally, once again, and this time for all time, i will be allowed to be who i am. i will get to be wild and free. i will be safe. and most definitely, i will be loved.

Bunny's quilt

Linus had his security blanket. now Bunny has her quilt. i made one in the first 6 weeks i was here but, to be honest with you, it is not square. maybe because i quite literally do not remember making it. i only remember snatches of my life after he died right up until Thanksgiving.

this quilt has been carefully sketched and planned since then. 10 months i have worked on it, set it aside to work on commissions, and then come back to it. i finally have it finished. my quilt.
i quilted stars to represent Heaven where my Dragon now lives and hearts for mine that i gave to him when he "flew away" that night. it will be 19 months on Thursday. i have my quilt.

here is what i did first. i sat and wrapped it around myself.
then i laid down with it, holding my Cube of Love and my Tribute Tile.
the funny thing is, with the scraps and all his other clothes, i have 4 more quilts sketched. two for my two children. my daughter bought me a t-shirt that says, "blessed are the children of piecemakers for they shall inherit the quilts."

i love my Dragon. i love him so much that it swells inside me like a song; a sad song, but a song nonetheless. he is all i wanted in this life. he is all i will ever want. at this point in my life, he really is, and i sincerely believe, he is all i will ever want. i miss him so much.

i am in mourning. i am grieving for my Dragon. i finally have my quilt; my quilt that shows through art, my grief.

sucked down

my digital camera died last night. it is the one that my Dragon bought me before we moved to Rockport. it is the one that took all the photos of my harrowing road trip away from the ocean to move here. it is the one that has kept vigil over the moon. and now it has died and i am sad.

i know it is an object, but it was a link to bDd (before Dragon died). it is as familiar in my hands as a needle and thread, and floss. as familiar as a paintbrush or a pencil, or a woodcutter's tool. i have lost my friend and i am devastated. i have put it on my mantle which has become a shrine of sorts. i even have empty pill bottles with his name on them. my daughter brought over her camera to me this morning on her way to work. bless her.

i have finished the last bag E. wanted. it has passed the Bunny Weight Test. i also put pretty ribbon on it and embroidered the "life is crap" stamp to make it visually appealing.
i hope she likes her bags.

it is after September 1st. after 27 years in New England, i know that Summer is packing up fast to move south. Fall can come early up there and i miss it. this will be my second without seeing those changes. it was pretty here last year, but, i don't know. my heart longs for the coast and all the vines around the driftwood. i long to smell salt air and that snap of cold that makes your skin tingle. the talk of frost on the pumpkins will begin in a few weeks, maybe sooner depending on nature this year. i miss it so much that i feel hollowed out by what has happened and how it came to pass.

memories assail me lately. at moments i feel overwhelmed with them. i feel like i could get sucked under if it do not fight it off and yet the call of these memories is a candle flame to my moth. not all the memories are good ones and i guess it is the residue of having been recently lectured and questioned as to why am i still here. please don't ask me to explain. i wrote it only to quantify the level of self-worthlessness i am made to feel and have to fight against.

one summer when my children were 11 and 9, my father-in-law asked where we were going on our family vacation. my ex told his dad that we did not take vacations as they were a waste of money. his dad scoffed and prodded me, thinking ours was a marriage where i had any say. he was the patriarch and it was only respectful that i answer him. i told him i had always wanted to go to "Cape Cod." i really had always wanted to find a little shack of a vacation beach house to rent north of Orleans so that the children and i could walk along the beach, the eastern arm of the Cape where Henry Beston had spent a year alone. i knew the storms from the Atlantic threw all kinds of wonderful treasures along it. my father-in-law had been and we started conversing about how austere and beautiful it was out there. talking to him was always easy. we were of like mind. but when i turned and saw his face, i knew there would be hell to pay.

we had to go now. instead of letting me make the plans, he did it angrily. he got us a room at a Holiday Inn in Hyannis and every morning he got us up for breakfast, took us to the beach, and then took us back to the room with take out. he stayed on the phone a lot, or brooded. he was pissed at spending the money.

there was this one day of terror where he took my son out too far in the water. there was a storm less than 50 miles offshore and waves were high. flags were flying for dangerous surf and you were allowed to wade up to just above your knees, wherever your knees fell, but no further. he said he hadn't spent money to just wade in the ocean, so he took my son out to make him body surf. the tide was coming in and the waves were building. i told my daughter to sit with our towels and went to pace the edge of the water. i couldn't let him see me be anxious because that meant i was making my son into a mama's boy. i could not defy him but i kept watch.

when i saw them go under i went in after my son. i got to him and treaded water with my knee bent so he could sit on it and catch his breath. i talked to him, told him how to swim back in letting the waves carry him, and then get to his feet at the last minute when the sand was almost scrapping his knees. don't fight it but try to keep his head above the surface. where we were, the water was deep enough that my toes could not touch bottom. my son was strong. i told him to go and that i was right behind and beside him where i could see him. if he faltered, he would be pulled in my direction and i could again give him a rest while i treaded water. i was a strong swimmer. his dad? already on the beach toweling off. he had seen me go in.

i kept my eyes on my son. i saw him catch a crest that i missed and get a pretty good ride actually to shallow water where he got to his feet and ran onto the beach. his sister had his towel waiting. i was still further out and i got sucked down into the draw. i was turned and rolled and slammed hitting my head on the bottom. i saw stars. i swallowed water and it felt so warm inside. i choked and coughed and more water got in since i was still rolling underwater. i fought it rolling to my side and then pushed myself up to try to stand. i was in water just under my armpits. i coughed up the water i had swallowed. my stomach recoiling from the salt and my fear. both my children were standing at the water's edge calling to me. i glanced behind me as another wave was coming in and i caught it. i was drained. i needed the ride. my arms and legs were cold and tired and felt like noodles. as i got closer to the beach i felt a strong hand catch me just above the elbow. the young man who was life guarding that stretch of beach helped me out. my daughter had gone to get him after her brother made it to the beach. the lifeguard saw that i was okay then promptly walked over and wrote a ticket to you know who. yeah, they can do that.

i'm telling this story to help with the metaphor for what i mean when i say i feel like i am being sucked down. i have memories like this day at the beach that suddenly appear like a flashback. but then i have the memories of when i got cut off taking pictures and my Dragon waded in frigid water to get me, laughing, making jokes about "calling in the Marines." there was (is) so much love between us. i have been having nightmares that started the day before the lecture and also dreams that my Dragon never died. i cannot control them. they just come. i try to control what i do after they arrive and cover me, and roll me over and over.

i am trying to get to my feet.

after i got the borders pinned, i did have to fall on it and smell it. it has been almost 19 months since my Dragon wore any of these clothes, yet i know i can smell him. tonight after i stop doing some embroidery i have been commissioned to do, i will walk over and hand sew some of the border down. i will have my quilt. i need it so badly; much like a small child needs to hide under the covers believing in their power to keep the bad things away.

i wish whoever reads, peace.

Waffle House ~ the lecture ~ i am back

i am back. he is finished with me for this go round. this, in list form for brevity, is what i got out of it.

1. my stipend check for rent.

2. he drove me to the bank to deposit it so i can pay rent on time.

3. breakfast at Waffle House.

4. i am a loser for leaving him when he kept all the money.

5. his wife is spending his money like i never did. he doesn't like it but she intimidates him. she reminds him of his mother. (i know only i understand this one so only get to laugh at the karma of it. just know that i got to laugh after he left.)

6. why don't the kids love him when he has all the money. i have nothing. he has it all. why do they call me all the time? why are they defensive, or in his case, offensive, of me all the time?

and lastly,

7. i got my exercise because he refused to drive me back from the Waffle House, but in spite of my foot, (i wore my Dr. Scholl's sneakers), it was a hot walk in the fresh air. the sun beat down on my skin and i was warm all the way down into my joints. i took long deep breaths and repeated my mantras. "he's gone for now." "i can pay my rent." "Dragon loved me." "i once had a great love for a little while." "i'm gonna be okay."

there are days when i miss my Dragon so much that the pain screws up my breathing rhythm. i huff for air. then there are days when i can go outside and the clouds and the breeze are perfect. i see bunnies and deer; all very Snow White-ish out there, and i think, maybe i can make it. today was a heterogeneous mixture of those two kinds of days. truth through chemistry. while i waited for Voldemort to pick me up and while i had to sit and be spoken to like that, i controlled my panic. i won. he lost. he never knows how scared i get to face him. when i saw that it was a "run wNs down" session with no real threat to my children or me, all i had to do was shut down and take it. it is hard to keep my mouth shut when i want to tell anyone who will listen all his dirty secrets but that will bite me in the back end so i bite my tongue. maybe if i ever get free i'll write about it, but i think there is already a book called, "The Banality of Evil."

at first, when he drove away and refused to drive me back to the apartment, i felt overwhelmed with the walk. but i drew on what my Dragon had lived through. he had been all over the world, in places only a handful of people knew where he was. in the dark. in the jungle. in the desert. alone. with a spotter. with a team. falling out of the sky. being dropped off by a sub and swimming in. he had done so much scary stuff. all i was doing was walking back. one foot in front of the other all in an area i know well. so first i went back inside Waffle House for a free refill on my sweet tea. the waitress was nice and gave me extra ice for my walk and called my ex a dick. i said, "he'll be one when he grows up." we laughed. dark humor from people who know what goes on behind closed doors. people look at people like me, and the waitress, and think, there but for the grace of God. but, fact. no matter how much money someone has, how successful they seem, it won't prevent bad things from happening behind closed doors.

when i started walking, i paid attention to the sky. i pretended my Dragon was walking behind me. i told myself i will have a story to tell him when i get back. i planned how i was going to spend my time for the rest of the day. i was limping pretty badly by the time i walked down the driveway into the complex. one of the maintenance guys saw me and gave me a lift to my apartment in the golf carts they drive around the place. the respite was nice. those things can really fly and the speed bumps are a vertical trip all by themselves. he talked about my dogs and how much he likes them. he is a nice man who came and took apart my bathroom sink drain when i dropped my little silver elephant charm from my earring down the sink. i got it when my daughter was in 8th grade; to show her and the world that i never forget. momma elephants are pretty tough. it was a rough time for her. she still likes it that i wear it.

i am home. i got all the venom out, i think. i've expended the adrenalin that builds up when i have to deal with him. i certainly walked it off. and now, by writing, i have gotten it out of my mind. sort of. almost. not really, but i have tattled on him a little bit.

now i am going to get my Cube of Love and my Tribute Tile set up beside where i am going to get back to work. i wish you all peace.

bag for E ~ Voldemort ~ angel wings

i have commission work. a lot right now and i am grateful for it. it will keep me from haunting space out here and justify my existence while he is gone. he gave the world a whole lot more than i ever did or ever will, but he deserves the rest.

E. gave me two t-shirts and wanted bags made from them. here is the first. i matched the color of "life is crap" with floss and embroidered over it for her. it is now a tiny tactile experience, and if she scotch guards the h*ll out of the bag, it should be okay. i cannibalized a pair of jeans for it to make it sturdy and bought some flower ribbon to make the straps pretty. Bunny was happy to pose with it.
for a photo of the other side which was the back of the t-shirt, Bunny jumped in the bag to test its strength. happily, the bag holds Bunny nicely.

Voldemort flies in late tonight for the big hooey talk he wants in the morning. i guess he did not get the visual satisfaction of seeing me act submissive during this latest flurry of phone calls. he wants to "tell you (me) how it's going to be from now on." i have no idea what "it's going to be from now on" means but it is all too familiar terrain. they say you go around to familiar terrain in grief, and i have found that to be true, but an idiot can also make you revisit his favorite areas. it is complicated but i have to go. i have to sit and be talked down to. i have to look down and bob my head like a moron to keep him from sliding off the rails. he'll get all puffed up and preen. he will be happy he has demeaned me and then he will leave. if it doesn't threaten my children or me, i will let it go in one ear and out the other. then i will go inside and get back to work.

i just get tired. i also get keyed up with anxiety until i know for sure what bug has crawled up his butt. maybe i will put a bug on Bunny and send her. she is pretty quiet and i am not allowed to talk during these sessions. he may not know the difference since he gets fairly pompous during one of these meetings. his eyes kind of glaze over with self-importance. i am tired of life and do not feel very strong at all. right now, the power is all on his side. but i hope for a day........

hopefully one day i will be free of him again like i was when my Dragon was alive. i had to talk to him about the children. at that time my daughter was hiding from him so i had to keep jumping up and down like a fool with bells on to distract him from looking too hard for her. but during those years i had my Dragon standing beside me, just a little in front, with his arms crossed over his chest and that look on his face that said, "please do something so i can do something." my Dragon made me feel safe, like i never had been before.

ah, the good old days. well, by noon tomorrow it will all be over and Voldemort will be back on a plane to go home to his big house on the Piscataqua River for his Labor Day weekend extravaganza. i will be grateful he is gone.

but i think, i hope, it will be okay. i may be grabbing at signs but there were these clouds this morning.

i was a nervous wreck after his phone call telling me what to do. afterwards, i had to take the dogs out and there was this huge set of what i thought of as angel wings. maybe. i saw it that way.
anyway, however you see it, angel wings or cirrus clouds, i am trying to find hope that it is all going to be okay some day. one day, i will be free.

i do miss my Dragon though. somedays it gets so very hard and i get so very scared.