Saying Goodbye

 I started this post a million years ago.

Ok, not a million years, but a long time ago, probably May.

And I kept looking at it sitting there in the draft folder. Taunting me.

I feel like grief is all around me. All the time. Like a pack of wolves hunting down my soul.

I should try to readjust my attitude about grief. I SHOULD not be afraid of it. I should welcome it into my house and ask it if it wants to stay a while. But I don't have my own house, that's another story for another time, so, yeah, no visitors.

As a result of this game of chicken I have with grief, it roars into my life sometimes like a motorcycle gang disrupting my pretending that every thing is alright.

Last week was the week leading up to the anniversary of my brother's death. 8 years. 

EIGHT YEARS?! How does that even happen?

And I was shoveling food and stomping around until I realized the 19th was just around the corner.

UGH.

Knowing it was going to be a rough one no matter what I did, I tried to plan a quiet weekend with lots of walking by myself.

It would have worked, too, if the stars had not aligned to take RBG from our world on the 18th.

I am trying REALLY hard, after days of sulking, to think FIRST of the tremendous gift it was to have her in our world for so long. But, I fail, often, and slink back into the terrible hole her loss has created in our world. 

Saying goodbye is hard - and this has been a rough year for everyone - and I am only human.

I started this draft (a million years ago) because I THOUGHT, maybe this is the year that grief won't be so hard. 

I was wrong, or grief is horrible, or 2020 sucks. Or all of that is true.

I am going to have a weekend away - and I haven't had any time to worry about the ramifications of interacting with people (masked, of course) because I have been all wrapped up in this grief. So, maybe not having time to be anxious is a silver lining?

I am trying, I swear.

Poetry Thursday ... it's still Thursday...

Friendship 
is always 
a sweet responsibility, 
never an opportunity. 
― Kahlil Gibran

It might be a repeat ... but hopefully it is worth it.

Poetry Thursday, friendship

This is the kind of Friend
You are -
Without making me realize
My soul's anguished history,
You slip into my house at night,
And while I am sleeping,
You silently carry off
All my suffering and sordid past
In your beautiful
Hands.
-- Hafiz

Quote Thursday

Nothing makes the earth 
seem so spacious as 
to have friends at a distance; 
they make the latitudes and longitudes. 
— Henry David Thoreau

The Boy

Life is eternal, 

and love is immortal, 

and death is only a horizon; 

and a horizon is nothing 

save the limit of our sight. 

~R.W. Raymond

I love this picture of The Boy.  Sometimes I think it is because I love this couple so much and their connection is palpable here.

When I used to see this picture on his mom's desk, I would think, they are soulmates.

I was sure they would get back together, have beautiful babies and be happy.

But then again, I was sure of so very many things that we will never see.

He has been close in mind lately, not just in the past few days, but especially this month.

Now when I look at this picture, it is the eyes, that look.  It tells you so much about this old soul.  There is a knowing about the trials and tribulations, the power of love, and the importance of connection.  There is compassion and world weariness and strength.  He was steady and wobbly at the same time, fearful and hopeful, ready to take on the world despite his reservations about well everything.

I see this picture and I think there is no way he is gone.  There he is, right there, forever that sweet, smart, relentlessly idealistic and pragmatic young man, my future governor or president. 

Some days I weep for the world because we lost that light, the one we so desperately needed.

Some days I weep for his mother who is trying so hard to learn how to be in a world without him.

Some days I weep for the children who don't get to grow up with father; he would have been the absolute best father in the world.

Some days I even weep for myself because there were so many more stories to tell, issues to discuss and adventures to have... and I try to be brave remembering his last text, the one he sent when he found out I was dealing with yet another loss, before he knew I would have to deal with his as well. 

Stay up.

Trying.

Rest well, sweet boy, but let your mom know you are okay.

lately...

I don't talk about my grief very much.

I don't always have words for it.

But April is the cruelest of months... in so very many ways.

It was already tugging at my, like the rip tide, threatening to take me deep, tire me out and drown me.

Then I heard that a classmate from college had died.

Like so many things in my life, it was the domino that I could not hold upright.

The intricate balancing act toppled and there went all the dominoes in a long, elaborate cascade snaking around me, threatening to throw more than my emotions out of balance.

In my experience, this has meant spending lots of time trying not to think about the raging grief looking for an outlet.

In my current experience it means a lot of crying, and a fair amount of physical pain that I carry mostly in my neck and shoulders.  If I could give in to the crying as much as I needed to release it, perhaps I could stave off the pain.  Then again, I am not sure if I could manage any work.  As luck would have it, I have the most crazy work schedule for the next two weeks.

The universe loves me.  Or at least the universe loves to toy with me.

Actually the universe has bigger fish to fry, but it helps to have somewhere to point the accusing finger.

To be honest, it has also meant a lot of irrational eating... this is all complicated by the fact that I finally got that horrible cold/flu thing that everyone else had months ago... and my sense of taste is seriously compromised.  So I eat to try to contain the raging grief and it tastes like cardboard, so I eat something else, and the cycle continues.

Sometimes, it is like being in the hospital on death watch, feeling like eating would only prolong the suffering. And so I don't eat until the stomach demands something.  I think -- ah, at least the stomach can demand.  When we were in the hospital I am pretty sure I went at least five days without eating anything at all.  Someone finally realized I wasn't eating and brought me a protein shake. 

Thank goodness for friends.  I certainly would be lost without them.

And, actually, I came here to write about friends, and hiding, and trusting and vulnerability.

I often don't tell anyone how I feel.  I hold it. I deal with it.  I power through whatever it is.

I may seriously maim myself in the getting through, but I will rarely ask for help.

I have so many wonderful friends, it is ridiculous that I don't ask for help.

Then again I frequently reach out to the friends who, for reasons of their own, do not know how to respond.

It like a reverse secret power -- to agonize about needing help and then reach out to just the person you know will not know how to respond thus creating the negative feedback loop ... shouldn't reach out, it will only make it worse.

Well... today, I reached out... and I probably chose the people least prepared or equipped to handle my raw emotions.  But they each did their best to respond... whether or not there are truly appropriate responses has yet to be determined. 

The upshot is getting it off my plate was actually just what I needed.

Problems are not solved... but load is lightened.  And any bit of weight removed is greatly appreciated.

And some hiding in my apartment where I don't have to explain myself.

more pure joy

I prefer people in small packages. It is not always obvious to others why this is so. But the reality is, these small people provide the surest window into what it means to be present.

They feel whatever they are feeling, right now.

Emphatically, usually.

They even do boring better than any actors can approximate.

They are also especially good at experiencing joy.

They don't think about it, worry if they are deserving, wonder at if they will look silly or how others will react.

Although sometimes they do call for reactions, so maybe they care a little.

I am doing my best to learn from these little ones...
not just about experiencing the sensation of joy, but also the expression of it.

They are blessings.

Para los seres queridos...

We gathered to decorate Sergio's grave on Sunday.
This is before
-- a bag of supplies.
And eager hearts
with food and
energy and
love for Julie and Sergio.

It started shaping up with flowers and decorations.

Julie and I scoured a grocery store for many of Sergio's favorite things.

Alita was particularly intrigued by the process... I kept giving her jobs (and treats).

Alita helped give out paper and pens so we could all write Sergio private notes.

the final product... and closeups of the offerings...

Julie thanked everyone for coming, and Alita, Sara and Kathryn comforted Julie... it was heartbreaking and beautiful.

We burnt the notes as our delivery method.

I included my silent thoughts for all my loved ones who aren't with me anymore.

We miss you so much, Sergio ...

scenes from the week ...

Life right now

Last week my dear friend's son was killed in a car accident.  All week, I tried to write.

But the only thing I could do was get a sentence at a time.

This is a record of those pieces that resonated.

It is not a full picture of all that my heart contained.  Truthfully, I have not really begun to process the enormity of the tragedy.  I fill my days with helping my friend plan the memorial [ok, actually I took it all upon myself so that she would never have to say, my son died.  The words tear into you when you have to say them, creating new wounds that might never heal.]  I have only skipped two four-hour work shifts so that I could fit it all into my schedule.

Today, I found myself doing six things at once, not only because there was much to do, but also because I cannot be idle.  Not for a second.  When the openness of not working on something hits, the despair is unbearable. 

My pain is not anywhere on par with that of his parents.  But the despair I feel is like the cold, hard floor of the well long abandoned.  No one will find me here because no one would ever think to look for me here.

I hope for a ray of sunlight before the idleness sets in...

It is appropriately overcast today ... as gloom reigns my head and my heart is broken, again, into a million tiny pieces. [4/27]

Find what you love and then be its magnet. Life is too short to not do/be with what/who you love. [4/27]

God take my soul to that place,Where I can speak without words.
Rumi

My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that, and I intend to end up there.
~ Rumi  [4/28]

Small blessings present themselves even in our darkest hours. [4/29]

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal. 

From an Irish headstone [4/29]

The only lasting beauty is the beauty of the heart.   ~ Rumi
Received a message from the friend of a dearly departed this morning. It brought this quote home ... our actions, especially those that came from our heart, are what we leave behind. These footprints in the souls of our friends, and even those we just met briefly, are our legacy. Tread mindfully with love, compassion and acceptance.

If you have become ash ,
Then wait you become a rose again.
And do not remember how often you have become ash
But how often you were reborn in ashes to a new rose.

~ Rumi

If you are insulted, 

if you are accused, 

if they gossip about you, 

 don’t say anything bad. 

Don’t be the one 

who sees the shame, 

be the one 

 who corrects it.

~ Shams Tabrizi

Cita de jueves/Poetry Thursday

Amigos verdaderos 

son los que vienen a 

compartir nuestra felicidad 

cuando se las ruega

 y nuestra desgracia 

sin ser llamados.

~Demetrio de Falerea, filosofo atenienese

True friends 

in prosperous times

 come only when invited, 

but in misfortune 

of their own accord.

~Demetrius of Phalerum, Athenian Orator

 

Poetry Thursday

Dance, when you're broken open.

Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.

Dance in the middle of the fighting.

Dance in your blood.

Dance when you're perfectly free.

~ Rumi