the art of grief

it's coming

2012-01-26T13:15:00.003-05:00

it's coming. that period when all i can do is think of that moment in time, and of the passing of time.

Valentine's Day is staring me in the face at work. hearts and bears and love and kisses.

all i can think about is the love he had for me, i have for him, the embraces we shared, the touching, the constant touching.
i have vivid memories that include sounds and smells, the feelings i had about where we lived.
"i love thee, i love but thee with a love that shall not die, 'till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old." ~ Shakespeare. what he recited to me as part of our wedding vows.

"and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars; and he will make the face of Heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun." ~ Shakespeare. recited by my daughter for me at his funeral on Valentine's Day.
because i had not voice.....because i could not speak. and i write here rather than continue to try and find someone to talk to anymore, because i still need to have a voice.....because i have things i'd like to say......because i still have not had the chance to actually speak to a living person about him. so writing is my voice. the written word is my way of speaking about him.

i bought myself something. when it comes, i'll post a photo of it. {Bunny loves cliffhangers.}

it's coming. that period of time when all i can think about is him, and time.

i am still in love with you, Dragon. so very much.

happy, happy, joy, joy ~ Hope

2012-01-19T08:33:00.003-05:00

someone had the audacity to write to Bunny to tell her that she, oh, Lordy Lord, she's gonna put this in quotes:

"you are resistant to joy, real joy, the joy that can be had when your partner dies and you are now free to be the woman you were meant to be in the first place."

Bunny's first thought was like, "oh, wow, i guess her marriage wasn't that good." but that's judging, just like this person was doing to Bunny.

it's an interesting thought though. being the person you were "meant to be?" like Bunny was run down like some wild creature, captured, and married to her Dragon against her will. like her Dragon oppressed her and suppressed her and kept her from being what she was meant to be. that was Bunny's first marriage.

silly woman. doesn't she know? hasn't she read Bunny's blog thoroughly? Dragon was AWESOME. <~ said in a sing song little voice.

and since his death, Bunny has been doing happy.

look at that picture up there. see that flower? hyacinth. Bunny was happy to buy it. crazy Bunny spending her hard earned $4.99 on that little glass vase. hopeful Bunny that her little flower will bloom. see? happy and hopeful.

Bunny is doing alright. she has her moments. she writes it out. that silly woman has never met Bunny. heck, she's never even see a photo of the real Bunny, me, to see her eyes, what's in them, and what isn't.

so maybe there isn't this exuberant, jumping up and down, joyful, joyful, we adore Thee bounding up and down the street like a big golden retriever excited at the thought of a frisbee toss, kind of joy to Bunny...

but...

Bunny does alright for herself.

so far she's made it all by herself,

and with a little help from her friends.

Bunny has her work at Build-A-Bear where she is the tippy top Party Bear/Bunny.
she goes back to her place where she has her drawings and sketches of things she wants to make.
she has her puppies! the lovely and diva-ish Carmen Sophia and the inscrutable but winsome Scootie Wootums.
and yes, she has her Dragon. her lovely, lovely Dragon who sits in her heart and her head. the one who gave her joy. the one whose only compression was when he laid on top of Bunny and she loved those times. {oh, my gosh. Bunny made a cryptic reference to sex. yes, Bunny loved her compression times with Dragon. ooooo la la. he was very, hmm, talented. there that's a PG word.}
Bunny is happy. Bunny has found equilibrium. Bunny is not just going through the motions. Bunny has friends she hopes some day to go visit. like in Arizona. Bunny hasn't seen Arizona since she was in college. and San Diego. and Canada. and England. oooo. Bunny will need a Pawsport for that one.

love to all my friends. love to my children and my fuzzy kids. love to my Dragon. and yes, a little love to me. don't get all down on Bunny just because she hasn't started a foundation or written a book or gone for the Gold Ring of Grief. Bunny isn't a Phoenix. she's a Bunny. she's doing it her way. she's got her earbuds in and listening to her own music. sometimes it's sad. sometimes it's happy. but joy? Bunny knows she will have joy again when she's with her soulmate again. fingers crossed.

peace, ............ and quiet. peace and quiet. yeah. you characters out there who seem to think it is your duty to correct Bunny, stop it. Bunny is doing fine.

birthday Bunny

2012-01-15T07:58:00.005-05:00

it's my birthday tomorrow. i'm working. my last day off was last Monday. my next day off is a week from this Tuesday. i'm a little tired. scratch that. i'm really pretty tired. i work at work and come back here and work.

it's my daughter's birthday, too, and she has off for it. i'm going to miss seeing her, but i'm glad she gets the day off. we both work hard. my daughter gave me a gift. i love it. it's a small aquarium tank so i can grow plants underwater. my own tiny ocean. i gave her a gift. a Build-A-Bear, of course. so sad that i can't do more for her.

i don't feel one way or the other about my birthday. it's just another day. i don't celebrate it. it's just another day that i work. i worked on my birthday last year. the others take their day off but i do not feel like i can or should. money is money and i need every cent.

i finished another quilt and have started on the next. i am waiting for the woman to send me the address she wants me to mail the quilt to. i am also waiting for her to send me the balance due on this quilt and the deposit for the next. waiting. waiting. she's busy though. she works 2 - 3 days a week and then travels the rest. whenever she has the time, i'd like to get that check though. it would mean the world to me. it's a mere drop in the bucket to her. sadly though, it means i worked for about a $1 an hour on her quilt. lots and lots of embroidery.

i sometimes do not think anyone has any idea ~ even though i tell them, even though they see the finished product ~ how much time it takes to do everything by hand, to make the kind of quilts i make.

i have had people show photos of other quilts they have had made while they wait for one of mine. they have sent clothes to some place that cuts them all up into squares, and triangles to make squares, that run them up on sewing machines and get them out in about 3 weeks. months later i am still hand embroidering very detailed work. i see those photos of those quilts and i admit it, i do suffer a blow to my heart.

i have things i'd like to make for myself and for my children. but i put commissions above my own personal work.

i miss him more and more. that sounds like i am not getting over this, or dealing with it well. in a way i'm not. i'm suffering. but in my defense, i get confronted with suffering and grief on almost a daily basis. New Year's Eve ~ the little girl who didn't want to die that night. she didn't die. she did 5 days later. yesterday ~ the man and his daughter's who came into the store to buy a new bear for his wife, their mother. his wife is in a coma in a bed in their living room which is now her bedroom. if you ask this man, he is most definitely raising his daughters with his wife. he is not a single parent. the girls talk to their mom all the time. they show her things they've made. she is very much a part of their lives. she likes to hold bears. her arm curls around them when they place them next to her. the doctors say she is in there somewhere. she could awaken at any time. any time has been about 11 years now.

i make animals and do heart ceremonies for death. i am the one they come to because they've heard i do it so very personally. they know i will honor the purpose for the stuffed animal. it's hard for me to get around my own grief when i see others grieving so deeply. it keeps it all fresh for me. i never interrupt their stories with my own. no one knows why i can connect to them. they just accept that i am a "sensitive soul." everyone has a calling. i guess this is what i am supposed to do. i had hoped it would be one of more frivolity but, que sara sara.

{i'd like to interrupt this blog with an update. i have camera again. in fact, i have two. Sandy sent me her old camera as a gift. such a beautiful digital. i use it now for all my sky shots. i feel that is what it's for as it traveled miles and miles in saddle bags with Sandy and her beloved. Dan sent me half funds for a new camera from B&H. i had ordered it and it was on it's way when Sandy sent me hers. the new camera is what i use for the moon. it is 14X zoom so, i think, you can almost see my Dragon on the moon up there. anyway, i want to sincerely and humbly thank both Sandy and Dan for helping me get a camera back into my hands. i find that life is gentler when i can take a photo of it.}

i miss my Dragon. i wish he were here with me. not to be cocky, but after watching her on "Inside the Actor's Studio," i think i am sort of like Betty White. she talked about her work as a actress. she talked about her passion working with animals. her answer to the question "what do you want God to say to you when you get to Heaven?" was this: "come on in, Betty. here's Alan." her husband Alan has been gone for a little over 30 years. she said in an interview, "i'm killing time until i see him again by living."

that's what i hope my children see me doing; living. i am living but missing him. i am living by helping others make stuffed animals. i put my heart and soul into them so that these people will see a heart and soul in their animal.

i miss him. it's my birthday and once again, i am alone through it. no party. no hugs and kisses. no going to bed with him. just another day of work.

it's my birthday tomorrow and it doesn't mean anything to me at all. {well, i guess it does a little since i wrote about it.}
Bunny's gotta get to work. she's all dressed for a birthday party she's been requested to do for a gay man who is turning 21. he promised me he is coming in full drag with 10 of his closest friends. it's going to be a blast. finally, Bunny's going to have some fun today celebrating someone else's birthday.

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

2012-01-01T10:29:00.003-05:00

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.

suicide and hope ~ opposites sides of the same coin

2011-12-23T21:06:00.004-05:00

when i wrote my last posting, i was in shock. Christmas with my daughter is not exactly as i would like it, but there was another thing that happened that day. i received a phone call that morning from the son of a woman i have be building a friendship with.

she is close to me in age. 2 years older. she is widowed. 3 years in January. her children are grown. so are mine. i work a lot but we have been speaking, meeting every once in a while for lunch when i can pay for mine. she had been kind to me when i lost my Church widow friend to the sudden heart attack.

the phone call early Tuesday morning was to tell me that she had taken an overdose of sleeping pills and had passed quietly during the night. her son is devastated. so am i.

i knew she was hurting. so am i. i knew she was sad. so am i. i knew she was missing him terribly. i am missing my Dragon so very much. i did not know she was thinking of taking her life.

i do not know how i missed it. her son does not know how he missed it. i went to her wake last night and i came home and cried. i have mixed feelings about this and will need to work them through in my own heart before writing more. but i just wanted to at least tell someone this. people who may feel my shock and share my sorrow, pain, intense wonder at her decision, all the questions and thoughts that cross a person's mind when they learn that .....

someone took their life because they were too sad to live.

i am sad, but the intensity she felt is not something i share with my friend. i have awe-inspiring storms that rumble and blow through my life. i get scared. i get intimidated. i get upset. it never crosses my mind to give up on living. my Dragon would be hurt and angry and devastated that i could not live without him; that his love had not made me strong, but broken me down. my children would be destroyed.

and in thinking of my own children, i would never want them to give up on life simply because i had died. oh, God, it would break my heart to see them in such despair.

i am widowed. it is still my belief that i always will be widowed. i have no interest in dating or finding anyone. but having said that, i have not given up on myself. i am eating as best i can to take care of the diabetes and high blood pressure. since May 31st, i have lost 27 pounds.
i eat healthy, inexpensive but healthy, like my friend up there. {still can't believe i got that shot just off my Dragon's and my beach where we spent so much of our time.}

i still dream. my dreams are for a small little home. humble and safe with a little garden and fence for my scotties. i'd call it Scotland Yard. just little fantasies that keep my spirit humming along. day dreams that allow my soul to feel nurtured and to let my creativity run free.
i keep up with the people i have "met" here as part of this lonely journey. Dan, Boo, Deb, SSSF, Rose, Sandy, Judy, Suzann, Lys, etc. all of you are important to me. i have lost some along the way. women for whom i wasn't enough. women who have passed ~ my Church friend who died and now this lovely, lonely lady.

we have to stay together. we must keep up with each other. some of us are flying faster than others. some of us, like me, are lolly-gagging at the back soaking up the sun while we drift along on our own little breeze. not all of us grieve the same way at the same time. that is what makes us all so wonderful.
but we must be kind to each other. we must try to stay in touch, check in every once in a while. and if we feel that one of us is in despair, then maybe we can reach out.

my last conversation with my friend who committed suicide was this:

"Bunny, i feel so lost."

"me, too, but we can be lost together. i am hoping that maybe, one day soon, maybe after this holiday season, we can sort of find our way again. it's just temporary, this being lost. it's Christmas and we feel their absence. we'll hang on together. just call me whenever you want to talk."

but she didn't call. instead, she took pills and now her son has lost both his parents. i feel for him so much. at the wake he looked like a deer in the headlights. his fiancee was right beside him. helping him. being there with him. i know she and him together will get through this.

as for me, i have lost another friend.

but i have the few that are sticking by me. today i returned home from work to an email from Dan. he is a blessing. he sent me an email that helped me and lifted my soul. Christmas can be so hard when you want things you cannot have. people like Dan who look back over their shoulders to check on us little ones; the only words are blessed. i feel humbled and grateful to say i know him and he is my friend.

Dan, thank you for being there even though you had no idea about the sad thing that had happened this week.

suicide and hope are opposites sides of the same coin. something terrible has happened that has caused you to experience a grief so profound that death has crossed your mind. you think about the afterlife. you wonder what is out there. you wonder if it is better. you wonder if you can join someone who has gone before you, your child, your mate, someone so important to you that life here has lost its color. but there are still reasons to continue to live the life that has been gifted to you. there is hope. i will never flip that coin. i will always hold it in my hand and then lay it carefully down in the center of the table. the side that has HOPE etched in it will always be shining upwards.

i pray we all hang in there. we all have so much to be grateful for. we all have someone still here who needs us, who loves us, and who waits for us to come home.
i pray that the peace that can be found at Christmas finds you all. i pray for the hope that we all need to find within reach, is right there for us to hang onto. and i wish for friends and family to surround you, even if it can only on the phone.

we are loved. we are needed. we are important.

i love you, Dragon. i am living. i am remembering you with smiles and laughter. and i will always love you. Merry Christmas.

Christmas then and now

2011-12-20T20:05:00.002-05:00

this story is told with old photographs. i cannot afford a camera. don't know when i'll be getting one to update you on my Bunny, on me. so i have gone back in and found old photos to explain what words cannot convey.this is me now. i am deflated. unstuffed as it were. i am a weary Bunny that life has and is kicking the stuffing out of.

this was Christmas before. i got to be with my children. in fact, that Santa is me. my children did not know it was me. i had a wonderful time. i used to love Christmas. i still do but it's more of a Whoville without the presents kind of feeling.
Christmas is sacred and i won't impose my beliefs on you.

Christmas now is like below. i get back from work and i am wiped out. yet i still have to get back up after a brief break and get to work. and now a phone call tonight just blew my Christmas apart again.
i do not know when i will ever get my son to come to me for Christmas. his father, and now this year his girlfriend, commandeer Christmas and i never get to be with him. years like this. years. i feel smaller and smaller each year. he admitted to me that he hates it being this way but he knows i love him and always will. he trusts me, he said, and hates hurting me but he knows i will never hold this against him. he goes with the person and to the person who can hurt him if he does not cooperate.

so the phone call tonight that has further taken Christmas away? my daughter and son-in-law have to go to his mother's for Christmas. my daughter had to tell her that i needed to be invited otherwise i would not get to see them at all. i would be alone on Christmas. so i was grudgingly invited.

i did not cry on the phone. my daughter wants to see me and i want to see her. my work schedule has been such that i have not gotten to see her in 2 weeks. so i am going in my own car so that when it gets too tense, i will leave. it is this other woman's house and she is very much Queen. it will be her family around and i quite simply will not exist.

one day a year. Christmas. and i put so much in store on it. and i keep bowing my head to make sure my children are not under any more pressure than they already are. but i am getting older. i feel older. i feel tired. i simply want one Christmas. just one. one more. that's all. one to remember forever. one where there is no pain, no pressure, no being so alone that i feel like the whole world died instead of just my husband who would do anything for me.

i just want one Christmas.

but i have my pack. a new Three Musketeers has evolved from the ashes.
Scootie Wootums, me, and Carmen Sophia. we are a pack. they love me. they trust me. i can be angry and they come to me. i can walk in the door deflated and beaten down in spirit, and they believe in me. i can be sick and they never leave my side. i see their loyalty. i watched them mourn, and still mourn, our Dragon. Scootie still goes to the closet to get his shoe to lay on the floor with his nose inside it. and Carmen puts her paw on it laying side-by-side. they miss him as i do. together in bed, they stretch out beside me so that, if i need to get up for a drink or to go to the rest room, they follow me. then we get snuggled back together. they are with me in this tiny place no matter what part of the apartment i go to. they lay on the bath mat when i take a shower.

they do not worry how they look or how they will be perceived. they mourn and they feel joy in the day. both emotions so close together. they are in touch with their feelings to a degree that we as humans fight against and probably shouldn't. they miss our Dragon but they are happy to be with me. their dejection when i have to leave for work breaks my heart. they seem to understand when i say, "i have tomorrow off!" they are thrilled. this is not appreciation for m as their caretaker. i truly believe they love me. me. me as i am. me. imperfections and all. me. tired and broken and deflated,

and unstuffed. they love me. and i love them.

and we love Dragon who is not here.
maybe i don't get to have Christmas because i am not really home. i haven't been home in years. i am not where i should be. i am not a family. well, i am a family of 1, or 3 if you let me count my dogs.

but my children have other people in their lives they have to appease. it just seems a shame that these people have to BE appeased.

it is my gift to them to not demand to be appeased. i have no hoops for them to jump through. i do not snap my fingers. i love my children and just want to be with them when they are free to be with me.

but i wonder where home is? Dragon? will home one day be with you? or will i be lost to the darkness still? will i be doomed to forever roam, never having a true home? will i ever feel safe and at peace? at least i know one thing for sure. Scootie Wootums and Carmen Sophia will probably wait for me and follow me into the dark, or the light, or whatever waits a deflated, unstuffed, unimportant Bunny like me.

being Bunny

2011-12-13T13:32:00.003-05:00

when i sit and ponder my life, assess my character and/or lack of character, i truly see myself as i am. i have no illusions that i am this cool person that people love to know. i have no bag of tricks or endearing quality that keeps people close to me. what i do have is the ability to read people and adapt myself into being what they want and need of me at that time. what i do have is a wicked sense of humor that i seldom share because, as my Dragon once told me when i asked him, "you are razor sharp and your wit is dry. i love it, but then i survived Marine boot camp. i love a woman i have to run to keep up with. lots of big words, babe. very sexy. now let's get those clothes off and you can use those big words on me."

i carry a lot of baggage; i admit that. growing up deathly afraid of my mother, becoming afraid of my first husband, being the way i am {being born a Bunny of a person} and living a life of emotional poverty, and now financial poverty, has weighed on me. it makes a person a little more fragile. it also turns them into survivors grateful for any minute blessing. i found the love of my own person infinity so late. then seeing him die, working on him to get him to breathe, then seeing that spark that made him my love, that light in his eyes, the recognition of this world fade away; it ripped me apart. so yes, i carry a lot of things within my soul.

when i was a little girl, i dreamed of where i would live and how life would be. my dreams were fanciful to say the least.

yeah, my place was the stuff of childish wishes and fairy dust and warm starry night skies.

as i got older, i dreamed of living in an old home, saving it, and filling it with equally old things. not expensive treasures but with things tossed aside, comfortable things, and things that i had made like stained glass. i'd have a lot of wood in my home and a big stone fireplace. it was representative of my feeling unsafe and desperately needing a sanctuary to retreat to. i need warmth and space to be myself without fearing abuse in whatever form it took.
what i got was what some call a "character building" life. i learned things i never wanted to learn, things i pray my children never learn about. i learned to adapt, and to survive. but i lost so much along the way. i lost things. i lost a lot of myself. sacrifices i was willing to make for the greater good.

i lost a little dog that meant a great deal to me. DudleyLove. that's him below. i recently found all my photos of him. he was my shadow for so long. lost his ear to the cancer that finally took him from me. i laid on the floor with him his final night on this earth. the next morning, i laid on the floor at the vet's for his final breaths. it damn near killed me.
and then i lost my beloved Dragon. and i did die that night. a part of me is gone. i am not the same person at all and by that i mean i am not the person i started out to be, nor am i the person i became because of my mother, or because of Voldemort {first husband}. nor did i get the time to become the woman i was being allowed to become because of my Dragon's love. i am, once again, so very different. i wonder sometimes if God would recognize me as the child he sent to earth almost 54 years ago. but then, He's been with me every step of the way so i guess that question is moot.

i miss my Dragon. i miss missing him more than i do right now. i used to miss him more but time is taking care of the intensity. now, i simply ache for him.

i work at the Bear. i am Bunny both here and there. oh, my gosh, i'll have to turn that into a poem later on. but for now, just know that i am doing okay. {no, Bunny, it's not arrogant to say}...i am doing well at the Bear. i can connect with people. i have made a lasting impression on some who come back to see me often.

but i miss him. and i sometimes still cry. like last night. needed him so badly, but all i had was my pillow with his photo silk screened on it. so i talked to the darkness and cried for him.
but today went better. my daughter came up and helped me with some problems. see, it's been a rough almost 2 weeks. rent increase notice came and since the apartments were bought out by a big corporation, there is nothing the front office can do. but it's only a $27 increase. crap. but they are going to fix all the little problems with my apartment now. yea! and i had an issue with Time Warner Cable but my daughter took care of that. i am now paying less for my cable than i ever have before. she was awesome.

i worry about the VA dumping me because they will think i make too much money at the Bear which does not cover rent, and it's not like i shop at all for anything other than food and sewing supplies, but i do worry they will applaud my work ethic and say, "so long." so then, as my daughter says, her brother will be there for me. she said, and i quote, "you are safe, mom. you were always there, every day, for us. you still are. and now it's our turn to be there for you. it's not like you gave up on life. you work hard at the store and at your sewing business. we're here to do whatever it takes to keep you safe. just breathe."

and so that's what i am going to be doing this Christmas season, and after. during my birthday and his upcoming anniversary, the one where his soul left mine behind. i will also breathe through Valentine's Day, the anniversary of his funeral. and i will keep that as my mantra now. "just breathe." "just breathe."

and i think my Dragon will understand that i cannot cry every single day, but i do miss him every single moment of every single day. i am not ready to "move on," or "get a life." besides, i think i actually have a life. i work, i sew, i take care of myself and my little dogs. i help people. i write, i still dream. yeah, big accomplishment that one is: i still dream. my life is simply one where, if i may personify grief, i have accepted grief as a lasting companion and feel it is grieving along with me.

i will always want my Dragon. i have met men at the store. no one has risen me from the dead yet. no one, no matter how cool or unique in their own way, will match my Dragon. i am not feeling it.

and i know what you're going to say to me so don't. let me quantify my remarks with this. you do not know my Dragon and all we had between us. i will never tell you all the private stuff. you do not know our love and our life together. he was so incredible a person that even if we had only been friends, i would have been in awe of him. i used to tell him he was the guy every guy thought he was after 3 drinks. so let that one go. to me, my Dragon was and is the end-all/be-all. 'nuff said. {besides, i cannot be the only one who raises their spouses up to lofty pedestals. we all know what we had. leave us to our glorious memories.}

so i am going to "just breathe" my way along this life. i am humbly grateful for anything i get and everything i have. i mean, after all, how many people get to BE Bunny?

winter feelings

2011-12-06T19:12:00.006-05:00

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.

i am at a loss.....

2011-11-27T21:21:00.005-05:00

disclaimer: after i wrote all this down, i came back up here to write this. it is my disclaimer though not really a disclaimer as per the definition. i just wanted to say that i am fragile these days and if you feel moved to comment, please, please be nice. i would say be kind but sometimes kindness takes the form of censorship, criticism, you know that whole "cruel to be kind" thing. so don't be kind. be nice, because, as the expression goes, "i'm lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut."

i have all these ideas in swirling around in my head. creative ideas for sewing, writing, and yeah, sadly, photography. i have no time to do them. and right now, i have no camera.

i am at a loss as to what i am feeling. i do not know if anyone else out there is feeling or has felt this way. i will try to describe it, but forgive me if i cannot.

i feel at loose ends. for one thing, i have not been back to Church since the funeral Mass. and i am upset with myself. but i wake up Sunday mornings exhausted. right now i am fighting a bad head cold. i told myself this morning that i needed the sleep. but what about ...... you know, the religious stuff? after the life that i've had, the last thing i want to do is make God angry and watch Him give up on me. i don't want to go to Hell.

but i wish i could sleep all the time again. i need to work more here at the apartment but, God forgive me, i just want to curl up and sleep. i want to daydream, imagine i am with him again, and that our life is the one we dreamed of. i pull in and cuddle with the dogs and drink hot tea and just let myself go.

nothing appeals to me. food doesn't taste good. movies suck. books aren't holding my interest. i hurt all over. my foot is killing me. my knees hurt and crack and pop. my back and shoulders and neck ache. i want to save up for a massage but it would only be a one-time thing and, irrationally, i don't want to treat myself to something i can only have maybe once a year. i don't want to know how good it could feel and then walk out knowing i can't have it again until whenever i can afford it.

there are things i need like an eye exam and new glasses. i need a new split for my cracked bone foot. i need some labs done at the doctor's office. the time for script renewals will be approaching after the first of the year.

then there are the things i just want. silly things. ridiculous things. there is this pair of gloves i want. i want a new camera. i want this ring i saw that has two hearts and i could get mine and my Dragon's names engraved on the inside. see what i mean? stupid stuff and yet i tear the pages out of catalogs and magazines and tape them to the frig. i think, i'll save up. but crap, i need the glasses first, the lab work done, the doctor bill paid when i need the scripts. i'll need to renew my license plates tags thingys. money money money for things that suck. well, not suck but that aren't fun.

i want to go shopping. just shop a little. nothing wild and extravagant. i just want a little wiggle room for once. i will never get there no matter how hard i work.

i'm selling my Rudolph Build-A-Bear. this woman who is a frequent customer of mine came in looking for him. we're sold out. she was sad. she has Clarice but not Rudolph. she wants the set. all of a sudden i heard this person saying, "i have Rudolph. he even has the beautiful red velvet stable blanket. i'll sell him to you." that someone was me. i couldn't believe i said it but it was too late. the look of joy in her eyes......i have to sell my Rudolph to her.

and i mean of course i will. she needs it more than i do. i can't afford Clarice, too, and they are cute as a set. this woman has money. i'm sure she has a lovely home and a big Christmas tree to put them under. she deserves Rudolph more than i do. i gave her the price i paid for it. she's bringing the money next Friday to work. so i have my Rudolph sitting beside me wherever i am at the apartment until then, just spending time with him before he goes away.

stupid stuff like that makes me cry. i really like him. but $30 is $30. it's okay. time numbs pain, right? well, not all pain.

i miss my husband. i feel like he's fading from me. i sit and try to imagine feeling him near, or hearing his voice, remembering his mannerisms. it makes me cry because sometimes it is hard to do. and then i wonder if i am going insane because i'm really not supposed to be sitting there focusing on him like that. he's dead. i'm supposed to be living. but i'm so empty inside.

and when i'm not empty inside, i hurt. like over the camera, those gloves, Rudolph. see, the thing is this. i did without so much all my life but it never mattered before. with Voldemort, it was all about keeping the children safe and unaware of how bad bad was. then with my Dragon, sacrifices were easier. i had him. now that i am alone.........those gloves are really pretty. that ring is gorgeous. but i don't need another ring and the dollar store has gloves.

life is just not working out for me, or i am not being good girl and accepting my fate.

i feel out of sorts.

i am not sure how to make this work other than keep my head down and don't do anything stupid with my money or my time. i need to work every minute of every day or .........

or what? the time police will come and get me?

i feel like if i work constantly, maybe nothing terrible will happen to me. or if it does, i will know it wasn't my fault. if i stay quiet, work hard at all 3 jobs, take in as many hours as i can, save and never have fun, possibly i won't get into trouble anymore and no one will be mad at me. if i mostly keep my thoughts to myself, no one will criticize me. ridiculous thought since there will always be people who actively pursue criticizing others no matter what. they can't stop themselves.

case in point, i got screamed at by a woman at 6 AM on Black Friday because she misread her coupon and the items she wanted weren't free. extreme couponing gone wrong. a mall security guard walking by heard her and came into the store. my manager and i were standing there explaining why we could not let her walk out of the store. she had the items in her purse and we were not letting her leave. $11.73 that's all she needed to pay. but she refused claiming, in her mind, the coupon was written wrong. this woman claimed she had but out shopping since 10 PM Thursday night and this was her last stop. she had paid nothing in all that time and she wasn't going to pay for these bears. the security guard ended up calling for backup and took her into custody. we got our bears back. as she was dragged from the store she blamed me. "you fucking c*nt! why did you read the coupon? it would have all worked out! you're sending a mother to jail!" my manager was grateful. the DM stopped by and thanked me. i smiled and nodded and kept working. but i felt terrible. i prevented a theft of the store but i still felt ragged and raw.

i don't know where i am anymore. i cannot seem to let go of that woman's criticism.....that i'm not grieving. i go over it in my mind. she reminds me of my mother. my mother would do that to me. i would say i feel ill, she would say, "you're fine." i would have a fever. she'd send me to school. the school would send me home. she would say they were being too easy on me, that i had faked it. vomiting in the toilet, she would stand over me and say, "get it out and then i'm sending you back to school. you're just pretending to be sick. you're doing this to me on purpose." there were times when the nurse would just let me stay in her office so that i could rest.

i would clean my room, help with supper, take care of the dog, take out the trash, and all the myriad of other chores i had. if she found a chore i had not had time to do, like run the vacuum yet, she would accuse me of not loving her. "you're ungrateful and thankless and ugly on the inside. sure, do the fun jobs first. you're out of time now. go to your room."

she said i have issues. yeah, i do. health. financial. emotional. i've hit the trifecta of anguish.

am i grieving or am i being a child about this? is life too hard for me, or am i being too weak?

grief is defined as deep mental anguish. i think i am grieving. yes, i have issues, but i am also grieving the death of my husband who loved me. he loved me and there was power in that that overcame health issues, financial issues, and emotional issues. the dark wasn't so dark if he was there with me. it was warm and fairly safe, and i could close my eyes and feel his arms around me. i could talk to him and he never ever criticized. he loved my mind, my thoughts. he loved my words. he loved my touch. he thought my hair felt soft. he loved my dimples. he loved my eyes. he said my eyes held deep thoughts.

i write all the time about how much i love him. let me write this. he loved me back.

i am staring down the barrel of Christmas, the New Year, my birthday, then......

3 years without him.

i am at a loss........

i have no camera to take a photo of Bunny to show you how much of a loss i am at, or where that is, or what it looks like.

these tears i am shedding tonight for all i want and cannot have, for all i lost and want back, for him to hold me and make me feel alive again show that i still grieve.

if you feel comfortable responding, does anyone out there feel at a loss, still, at times? maybe it's the accumulation at present of so many little things going wrong. maybe it's the accompanying head cold. but i am at a loss at present.

not a moment goes by that i do not think about you, my handsome, beautiful Dragon.

Turkey Day 2011 ~ when everything goes wrong

2011-11-24T16:20:00.005-05:00

she looks pretty up there, in her store-bought fancy dress and shoes. but that's it for a while. no more photos.

it's been a tough week.

first, my hair dryer died. then my heater died. then my vacuum burned out a belt. hair dryer? my daughter gave me hers. she doesn't use it. heater? can't afford another one. vacuum belt? gonna pick one up Monday.

as for a new camera? can't afford it at this time. no more photos. no more fun. no more escape for me for a while. i am very sad over this. it is just one thing, one little thing that is sort of too much.

i have been doing a lot of thinking of late. gauging how i am doing on this road that my Dragon's death has put me on. i cannot measure my own journey against anyone else's. not going to be dating. not even considering it. money is so tight; very hand-to-mouth. so many little things going wrong. money out the door that i cannot afford to spend. i had to buy a new starter for my car, Midnight. had to. need the car. i cried all night long over that one. i had thought that my own personal apocalypse with Dragon's death that life's little troubles wouldn't be a problem. but that's not true. all this has brought me down. made me feel like i have done something wrong that made these little appliances break. didn't do a good job of taking care of them.

and now my camera is forever broken. my heart hurts over this. i love taking photos of Bunny. she conveys with her poses when words fail. i feel lost.

i miss him. but i keep remembering that woman saying to me: missing him is NOT grieving.

but it feels like it; the depth that i miss him. it feels like grieving. i cry. i sigh so heavily. my want of him is so great, to have him here to talk to, to have him present in my apartment, my life; to have him waiting for me when i get back from work.

i have so many of my things back and i know how blessed i am. i do feel like i am at home and yet, this is not home. i am struggling with finding my footing. i am slow to find my way. i do not feel safe. i know my children would move Heaven and Earth to make me safe, but for some reason, i wait too long to ask. i get ashamed that i cannot make my money stretch when it is just me all by myself. but it's retail. i make so very little hourly.

this week for example. i ran out of food. i was down to bread and cheese. grilled cheese every day. one can of tuna fish that i saved for our big Wednesday before Thanksgiving for lunch at work that i ate with a fork because i ran out of bread finally. i brought food back with me from my Thanksgiving meal with my daughter. i got my paycheck Wednesday in direct deposit. making my grocery list tonight. have to be at work at 5 AM in the morning, but that means i will be out in the middle of the afternoon. i can go to the grocery store.

but i got hungry, and too low. and i got sick frequently. kept it to myself. shaky. with having to buy the starter for my car, i had nothing left over for enough food. and i think that is where i differ from some widows. i don't have enough money to survive sometimes. it is always there in front of me and it makes missing him that much harder. he always told me, "everything's going to be alright." i say it to myself, but i don't believe me sometimes.

heavy mottos i keep in my head: "be frugal." "you don't need that." "balance that account to see what is left." "don't make a move." "grit your teeth and hang on a 8 more days, until payday."

i am always eeking by by the skin of my teeth. hanging on with my bloody fingernails is a more colorful expression. but i do hang on. my Dragon would be proud of me. stiff upper lip. no one knows at work really how very hard my day-to-day life is. they do not know about this blog. and i only tell you here now because......

because i have no one else to tell. i want my children to breathe and sleep untroubled.

i will wait until it is life or death.

and the way my life has gone, that might be just around the corner. that's a terrible thing to say. see? that's how much i miss my camera. i am a little bit heartsick.

but i am grateful for what i have accomplished at work. i am so grateful to have my things back and i still weep with humble gratitude. i adore my children. i love my dogs. i like my job very much. and i got a raise. yes, Bunny was good enough to warrant a little raise.

hopefully she'll be able to save some money. maybe she'll ask Santa for a new camera.

you never can tell when the eye of the storm might pass over you and the sun come out for a short while.

keep hanging on, Bunny. remember, Dragon loves you. he didn't want to go.

to grieve or not to grieve

2011-11-16T15:45:00.007-05:00

Bunny had herself a little debate over on Dan's blog. sort of stepped in it if you'll pardon the expression, but someone commented that there is no such thing as grief sometimes being a whole life long journey. she said we are not grieving after 6 to 15 months. anything beyond that and there are other issues not relating to the death and/or depression.

she was very adamant that newbies should not be mislead or frightened that they will feel this way for a long time. she claims she most definitely over her grief. she does not grieve for her deceased husband any longer and is happily remarried. he has been gone for 6 years. she has been remarried for over 4 of those years. she misses him but it's not grief. she said that with Dan being in a new relationship, he was no longer grieving and he needed to understand that and use the correct words. she stated that falling in love again, there are circumstances that need to be reconciled but that none of them involve grief. one of her final arguments was that, and i can only extrapolate she meant Dan words and my own comments, only presenting what she felt was a limited viewpoint was not helpful to newbies. newbies need their own kind who are right there along with them timewise with only a small pep talk here and there from those who have, i guess, been successfully finished with their grief as role models of what to aspire to.

i must be honest and admit it bothered me a little bit. she seemed rigid in her point of view. she put all her psychological eggs in one basket and the human condition seemed restricted to that one point of view. 6 - 15 months and then you are okay. George Bonanno's book "The Other Side of Sadness" was her gospel. i've read it. i wasn't impressed.

in a nutshell Bonano says we are hardwired to deal with loss and death. we are resilient and can bounce back quickly. he claims he has talked to hundreds of widows and widowers, parents whose children have died, etc. he believes grief has been misinterpreted.

i have not talked to hundreds. but i do know a handful who use the word grief to explain what they feel. they have used it beyond the 15 month finish line arbitrarily set out there. my friend whose funeral i attended last week used it at 21 years out. a gentleman who "grieved" for 35 years used it. no one corrected him or medicated him. it was acknowledged and accepted that what he felt was grief for his dead wife all his life.

i have been thinking of all of this as i sewed today. i had the day off from the Bear store and have been frantically sewing on a quilt i am crossing my fingers i finish in time for Christmas. a lot of work this one. but i think while i sew and now i have to take a break and eat something. and i thought i would talk to myself, and to you, dear reader, to see if i am wrong. maybe what i feel is not grief.

let me just bullet some simple facts.

* i still cry over him.

* i work successfully outside of my sewing here at the apartment.

* i ache sometimes with wanting him back.

* i laugh.

* i think about where he is and if he is safe in Heaven.

* i also worry that there might not really be a Heaven and like one of those episodes of "Ghost Hunters" he is stuck at the hospital or the room where he died.

* i tell jokes and interact. i am considered very witty where i work.

* i am not depressed, but i do feel sadness that all my dreams died with him.

* i smile and tease the people i work with, our guests, and am the main Party Bear at the store because i am so energetic and relate well to all age groups.

* i worry that i will not find him when i die.

* i sew for Bunny so that she looks pretty for work and for the photos i use here and on Facebook.

* i wish i had him to talk to and hold my hand and see him smile at me "that way" that made me tingle all over.

* i have no one single desire to have sex, meet anyone new, put myself out there; at least not yet. maybe never. i have no clue. but right now, i still wear my rings and strangers believe i am married.

* in my heart i feel i am grieving; the old fashioned kind that i grew up with.

* i no longer cry in public.

so am i grieving or am i finished with it and don't realize it? that was one of that woman's statements. i don't realize i am over my grief. i did feel insulted that she thinks i might not know my own heart and feelings. i was insulted that the words i personally choose are now considered wrong by "experts."

i stood my ground in the comment section of Dan's blog. i feel that we should be allowed to express ourselves as we see fit. language is so important. it is how we connect with each other.

her worry about newbies getting only one point of view seems misguided. she is presenting her point of view as the only correct one. kind of scary if you're a newbie {i hate that word} who feels like i did back then. {yes, i have re-read my blog from back then and really, only the intensity of the pain has lessened, but not my beliefs.} besides, of course newbies {still hating that word}, anyone, who reads blogs and books and listens to widow(er)s talk are getting only one side of the story. they are getting that writer's point of view. that's why libraries have so many different books. that's why there are a multitude of blogs out there. that's the beauty of differing points of view. but telling someone that they are absolutely wrong in what they feel and the words they choose to express those feelings is, at best, unkind.

i'm thinking: pick the ones that agree with your morals, your feelings, and your thoughts. pick and read and cleave to the ideas and concepts that bring you comfort and don't read the ones that don't. but do not negate what someone feels. do not condemn or criticize the words someone uses to describe their personal experience. grief is such a personal journey. it may last a week, 6 months, 15 months, or 35 years. but i do not believe anyone has the right to say, "this is the only way to grieve." or to say, "you are not grieving; you are done with it."

no one has the right to speak to someone else and use such absolutes.

'nuff said. if you wish to comment, feel free, but pretty please do so with respect. Bunny is very nervous about putting her thoughts out there. so many do criticize without realizing how much words can hurt.

and now, Bunny is going to make breakfast tacos for her supper, pull her piano shawl up around her fuzzy chin and watch some tv while she eats. then it's back to sewing.

sew, Bunny, sew. and grieve the way that feels comfortable to you.

obituary

2011-11-07T15:36:00.006-05:00

last summer i met a woman at the Church i attend. she was sitting behind me and when we made the sign of peace, i turned to extend my hand. she shook mine with both of hers. after Mass, she and i walked out together. we stood together for a moment talking and then she said, "you're a widow. so am i, 21 years."

i said, "yes, i am, 2 years 5 months."

her smile was soft. she reached out for my hand and squeezed it. "you're so early into it. would you like to go down the street to {a little restaurant} for some breakfast?"

i have been very lonely and was happy with the idea. this started a Sunday morning routine that i looked forward to all these many weeks. i told her i was 52. she told me her age: 72. she talked to me, answering questions, sharing her story while i shared mine. we had moments where we'd cry together. she was different than a friend, more like a mother whose world knowledge exceeded mine. she guided me and helped me feel a little bit okay with where i am in my grief.

she confessed that she was still grieving. after 21 years, she still had "bad days." she said she had never been to a grief counselor, that it wasn't done back in her day. you simply were expected to accept graciously, friends would rally around you for a few weeks, but then you were left to your own counsel. she said that my lack of "fence neighbors" as she called them, and being left on my own so much made us kindred spirits.

she gave me a suggestion. at 5 years out she said she had still be "suffering," as she put it; much like i have been writing of lately. she said she sat down and wrote her own obituary. she put in it all the things she had "died" of. she said it helped her clarify what her fears were, her worries, and her sorrows so she could address them individually.

so i wrote my own obituary. she liked mine and said it was poetic.

i think i am ready to share this with anyone who might still be out there reading.

Beach Bunny, little known artist and bear builder, died last night from complications of losing her soul mate, her Dragon. she was 53 years old. soft-spoken and gentle of nature, Bunny had never been the type to go down without a struggle, but in the final days of her life, she revealed an unknown side of her psyche. this hidden, fragile side to her personality came to light as a result of blow after blow from life; medical, physical, emotional, and spiritual. sadly, it all became too much for her.

her awareness of the futility of her attempts at finding any kind of a safe life after the death of her husband forced her to her knees, awash in tears. she had fought all her life against those who would crush her. all through the years of her life she had secretly clung to the belief that sometimes life saves the best until last. when she met her Dragon, all her dreams had come true, but, alas, not for long.

her time with her Dragon was all too short and he was taken from her even as she struggled to save him. in her mind, she had failed him. in her heart, she had let him die because she was too stupid to save him. this was a belief she held even all through the final moments of her death. with the heavy blows that continued to hit her after his death, her mind, heart, and spirit continued to suffer. a few days ago, one last blow came and she realized that she may never achieve any kind of peaceful co-existence with life. she was knocked to her knees, then knocked further down into the dirt. she did not have the reserves of strength to rise again. she lay there and, ultimately, the worry and stress took her last breath as its own.

as expected, no one was present to witness the passing of this gentle little spirit.

Bunny will be missed by only a very few. it is not believed that anyone will even remark upon the passing of this little soul who lived in obscurity, who tried hard to continue on in the absence of her beloved Dragon. one has to wonder what the purpose of so quiet a life; what reason there was for her being born? she suffered at the hands of so many who were supposed to love her: mother, father, brother, first husband.... violence, deaths that left unresolved issues, unanswered questions, cruelty, lies, abuse, abandonment; it created more weight that settle upon Bunny's soft little shoulders. it was a whole world of weight that finally became more than she could carry.

she staggered under the burden, fell, and could not rise. there is always a last straw, a final blow, and it came to Bunny. there was no one nearby to help her.

what epitaph can we put on little Bunny's grave? "the deeper the sorrow, the less tongue it hath." Beach Bunny has stopped talking now.

these are all things i am going to be addressing as my life continues.

i went to Mass Sunday morning. the Priest was waiting for me. he pulled me aside and told me that the widow i spent my Sunday mornings with died Saturday night of a sudden heart attack ~ just like my Dragon.

i am going to her funeral Mass tomorrow.

what obituary would i write for her?

a small, elderly woman who lived a small life made an enormous impact on a shabby little widow Bunny. two widows who had a brief time to spend together, got the chance to not be so lonely. this elderly widow took Bunny under her wing and showed her that it was alright to grieve. she told Bunny that pain is not something to be fought against, but to let its current carry you however far it will. it is something to be learned from. this elderly widow told Bunny that "grief is a grace if one looks deep into it." this great and tiny widow embraced another widow and shared her wisdom. the pew where two widows passed a Sunday morning Mass together will now seat one solitary widow again. the memory of the other widow will be greatly honored. the loss of her is staggering and will be felt forever.

Sunday before last, as we parted in the parking lot of the restaurant down from our Church, she reached out to me and held my hands together in each one of hers and said to me: "you have made me so happy. you are such a giving person. you have listened to me as no one has since my husband died. and you let me hold your hands. no one touches widows, not enough anyway. i like that you let me hold your hands. i have been so very lonely for company and God gave me you. thank you. Bless you. see you next, Sunday."

i wish to say: no, Bless you. and God keep you close. may you already be in your husband's arms again never to part. thank you for the brief time i got to have with you. i will remember all you taught me. i will look for you in the sunlight when it shines through the stained glass windows.

November

2011-11-01T14:19:00.003-04:00

it is November. i worked late last night, just me and the manager, getting the store set with all the marketing strategies and merchandize for the coming of Christmas.

Veteran's Weekend is coming. the man who was my husband's spotter has been dead now for almost 11 months. he had kept the stories alive for me, knowing how much i needed them. i find that staring at the closing of the year is maybe one of the reasons i am low. it has been so long since i had anyone to talk to that really knew that side of my Dragon, the Marine Force Recon side of him, the side that was his hero side. and with the death of someone i had leaned on so much for their stories, i realize i will never have any fresh retellings, any little tales i haven't yet heard, ever again.

so while i am still down, suffering the same thoughts and feelings i have been writing about, i have come to realize that redundancy is boring for everyone but the sufferer so with that in mind.............

whose the pretty turkey?

creativity keeps me going. it is my own solitary grief therapy.

i love you, Dragon. i miss you.

embroidery / Memory Quilts

2011-10-20T12:10:00.003-04:00

Bunny has been so low, oh, so very low of late. worries. stress. pain. but still she lingers in this life. there is still stuff for her to do.

wisdom to impart? oh, pul-eeze. no wisdom from Bunny. Bunny just does what Bunny can. she works to live and yes, lives to work. it is all she has.

look at that soft, wistful little face? she has off today. it is good because she rests her foot up high on a Cushiony Soft Cushion of Restful Bliss. she has lingered in her 'jammies and is being, oh, so creative.

glimpses of the Memory Quilt she has been working on.
Eiffel Tower and Matterhorn and a snowboard embroidered on the quilt. lots and lots of colors and stitches.

this is the snow board Bunny embroidered that exactly matches the photograph sent to her to match. she worked so hard on this.

she also created a little ocean/island scene that she is very proud of. tons of floss. thousands of stitches. tricky fabric.

today she is working on the Porsche emblem. there is going to be the little Porsche horse in the center. Bunny is all propped up working; just working away.

she miss him, you know. she pines for her Dragon. nights are still so very hard. days at the store take her mind from her grief, but sitting there sewing, Bunny's fuzzy little mind has time to miss him. her foot aches with this sudden cold snap. owie ouch ouch. if Dragon were here, he'd tenderly rub her foot. he would stroke her soft fuzzy fur and take her into his arms and tell her this: "we'll get it fixed. i love you. you're brave, so brave. i'll find the money. we'll work it out."

so Bunny tells herself this: "he loves you still. you'll be getting, oh, so many hours as the holidays approach. you'll get on the insurance in 6 more months. just 6 more months and then you can get it fixed. he is so proud of you. he thinks you are oh, so brave. keep going. keep working. cry if you must. be patient with yourself......

because......

he loves you still."

waves at the world "i am still here...."

2011-10-15T21:17:00.005-04:00

i'm still here.

i ordered the book recommended to me: Diary: Divine Mercy in My Soul by Saint Faustina. i look so very forward to spending time with that book. i need someone to speak to me while i am hurting here so much. i need some new words to hold onto. it has been a while since something touched my soul.

i am on the last embroidery work for this quilt. i will be putting the back together, then putting the quilt together in the frame to quilt it. i am feeling a little lighter about this work. it has been long and arduous, but i am proud of each stitch. hundreds of thousands of stitches of embroidery in this quilt. i will post photos of the work at some other point in time.

the holidays are coming. it means more hours at work. i am guaranteed 39 each week. i need the money. i am not going anywhere nor is anyone coming over. just work and work and cuddle with my dogs and try to find rest in sleep.

i cracked the bone in my right heel. it just split right up the inside of my heel. there is a big bulge there now. maybe in April 2012 after i get on health insurance at work i can have it "repaired." i have no idea what that will entail but it cannot entail me having any time off work or i cannot have that done. i am in a great deal of physical pain. it burns and throbs with every step i take, and when i am sitting down, too. standing at the register is a nightmare. i became nauseous today with the pain, and i was so proud of myself. no one knew.

i am still here. i have not quit. i am just treading water; no longer swimming at this time. maybe after the holidays. maybe after i get my foot fixed. maybe, maybe, maybe........

"But there is suffering in life,

and there are defeats.

No one can avoid them.

But it's better to lose some of the battles

in the struggles for your dreams

than to be defeated without ever knowing

what you're fighting for." ~ Paulo Coelho

i am fighting to survive.

i no longer think about having a "life." i no longer dream. i just want to survive until my continued existence is no longer required. all i want is to eventually come across a period of time in my life when nothing goes wrong and i feel more or less okay. that is what i am fighting for these days.

maybe my outlook will improve once i get a handle on coping with the pain of my cracked foot. it really is a bitch.

anyway, i am still out here writing to whomever is reading/listening. i am still here and i am not giving up.

what's the point

2011-10-09T08:23:00.006-04:00

what is the point of this life? really, what is the point? what am i supposed to be doing here still?

my children are grown. they still want me here but they don't need me.

and he is gone. he left me alone here to face a life that has never been easy. never.

i woke up sobbing this morning. my own sobbing is what woke me up. i could not, did not want to face the day, people, work, life. i am so tired of living. not suicidal, just tired of living. i need rest. a break. no one seems to see past my facade of coping. i am desperately trying to save myself, but sometimes one person cannot throw themselves a rope, and i feel, today anyway, like i am at the end of the only rope i have.

i opened my eyes and i saw this face.

so i got up and walked them both in the coolish morning air.

if i did not have them..........

my heart is broken, i believe, beyond repair.

to be sick, to be diagnosed with the things i now face, to only have my daughter to tell a few things to.

i am tired.

here is my soul laid bare. at exactly 2 years and 8 months, on the nose, today, i woke up sobbing because i desperately miss him.

i have my two grown children and i have my dogs. and i have the majority of my stuff back, so i get up and continue. the book of my life will end somehow, someday. i don't want it to be read as: "she gave up."

trying to be what she's not.

2011-09-28T22:06:00.002-04:00

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*

material things & esoteric dreams

2011-09-26T22:06:00.004-04:00

i am still out here, still working on my place, ahem, my home. i am gradually going through everything and bringing some things back with me from my daughter's garage.

all this stuff, these material things that were mine, are mine, are now being sorted through as if i died, or am dying.

"don't need that anymore." "do you want this? no? then toss it." "put this in the box to donate."

holding something close, studying it; something that used to bring me such joy and fill my previous home with the common clutter that we fill our lives with, weighing it's importance now that i no longer have the space. it is a difficult thing to do. sorting through the debris of my life and seeing it from this side of my husband's death. i feel as if we are getting things settled before i die, doing this sorting of who gets what so that it won't be hard when i am gone.

my daughter is taking a lot. we are setting off in a corner all the things we know my son {her brother} will want. and i am filling my little car, Midnight, each trip with things to bring back here ~ back home......

like my piano shawl. have i ever mentioned that i used to play piano? i started lessons when i was 4. by the time i was 6 i was pretty good. by the time i was 8 i was competing. at 11 i was entered in the Van Cliburn Competition. that was a long time ago, a lifetime. my teacher gave me the shawl then. it was an antique back then. it is more so now. very old. beautiful.

i sat in my old chair and held it around me tonight while i listened to Beethoven's 7th, the 2nd movement. a beautiful piece i learned to play when my hands could barely make the octave spread. i was never without a piano until the divorce. i sold it to pay for things my children needed. it was an old studio piano of blond maple. my mother bought it second hand in 1961 when i first started playing. i sold it in 2002 for $100 that i desperately needed to keep the phone on after V. refused child support for a while. it killed me then. it is a hauntingly ugly scar now. i miss my piano.

i miss my Dragon. i remember him going to the church in Rockport to talk to the priest to see if i could be allowed a couple of days during the week to stay after morning Mass and Rosary to play the piano there. he was so happy to have gotten the okay. he and i would walk to church for Mass, and then we'd stay and i would get to re-visit a past that had once been my own. i got to close my eyes and play for my own soul the music that has always haunted me. classical. mostly Beethoven, JS Bach, GF Handel, and other more deeply spiritual composers. music moves me. i played the scores that seemed to reach for something no one could ever have imagined without that music to take them there.

looking at all my material things that i am going through, getting back, i find myself more somber. i am so relieved, humbly so, but i am also wistful and melancholy over all the dreams that no one but my children and my Dragon shared with me. there is no one in my life anymore, besides my daughter and son, who knows me. there is more to me than my sewing, my writing, the work i do for others, and my grief. i am a woman of depth that no one really takes the time to get to know.

i do have my Marlene Dietrich friend, and she is lovely to know, but she does not live close so we have never met.

i have a widow who lives fairly close, and we have lunched, but my work schedule, and tight budget for things like that, keep me a little on the humble side. i do not talk as much about myself as i probably could, or should try to. i am so afraid they will abandon me as others have if i talk too much, say what's on my mind.

i am a wuss.

no one ever knew me but my children and him. oh, God, i miss him so much tonight.

would that i could play for you. i guess my writing is a form of music. silent lyrics to feed my own needs, to echo through time to announce that i was once here. i am leaving a legacy of lyrics behind that can never be put to music.

some dreams do not come true. some were never meant to. the difficult journey in accepting that carves away at me,

but,

i am so very blessed that once upon a time,

i did dream.

Bunny's Newsy News! w/ pictures!

2011-09-20T19:04:00.005-04:00

this is Bunny's news. it is happy. it is also melancholy. in a nutshell, without fanfare.............

Bunny got her stuff back.

when Bunny's first husband evicted her and her son from their home, she had to put all her things in storage. when her lovely, wonderful Dragon died, she could not bring it with her. and being down here in this "other land," she could not drive by her storage unit and touch the doors. she could not put her little forehead against the metal door and remember all her things that were inside.

but her daughter and her son-in-law surprised her two weeks ago by getting on a plane, flying up to New England, and putting it all in a truck and driving in back to their house and unloading it in their garage.

*sniff sniff*

when they opened the garage doors for Bunny to gaze at her stuff for the first time in years and years, Bunny, well, she crumpled to her knees. it was one of the most emotional things Bunny has had to go through. happy, wistful, melancholy, so hard, and yet, so very good.

all of Bunny's things.

almost.

some things were lost. rugs were ruined. beautiful Yankee braided rugs were ruined. Bunny's lovely little sofa was ruined, too. there was a wonderful flat file that she had had for decades was not allowed to come {denied by Voldemort who said it was simply too heavy ~ and it is; a very heavy piece of furniture.}

the other heartbreak was her Dragon's chair. Bunny has written in the past about wanting her Dragon's chair. it was not there. simply NOT THERE.

so Bunny cried bitterly over that loss last week. her daughter held her as they sat on the driveway looking at all their things. Bunny still gets teary about it if she thinks about it too long. she needs to let it go, as she has so many things and people.

she has spent all day today with her things. 1/2 the day in her daughter's garage. 1/2 the day setting things up in her little place. it will be a work in progress for quite a while.

so here are the promised photos.

see Bunny sitting on a box of books? so much stuff shoved into a two car garage. a lifetime of stuff.

Bunny with things put in her car, as much as she could carry up her stairs.

Bunny got her Hello Kitty phone all hooked up. when someone calls her, Kitty's wings and little heart wand light up.

the start of Bunny trying to make a home out of this place where she lives. she wants to feel at home here. it is where life has put her. she needs to find a way to feel at home. and yes, the goose on the table to the far right lights up!!

it will be a slow process of dividing furniture up, giving up things that won't fit in her little place, but those things will go to her children. they will stay within the family and kept with all the memories they hold. Bunny's place is starting to look familiar now. and she knows her things are safe until she can get through it all. it is all within her reach. all she needs is time to go through everything.

tonight, Bunny is going to sit on her sofa and watch some television. she is not going to sew. she is going to relax. she works a 10 hour shift tomorrow, and can hardly wait to come home, open the door, and finally,

finally,

feel like she has come home.

the Bun poking her head out.....

2011-09-19T09:42:00.004-04:00

.......checking to see if it's safe to emerge from where she goes to hide when people and life get too rough for her. she's got some news. she won't say it now because she wants pictures of her news. what's news without photos? "a picture is worth a thousand words." Bun believes it. some people don't read anymore. they scan.

"did you read the book?"

"don't have to. i saw the movie."

*Bunny shakes her head* anyway, she is taking her photos tomorrow, on her day off. then she will come roaring back with a post to let her few readers know how she's doing and what she's doing.

pssssst. it's good news, melancholy news, but good; heart-rending in a way, but very good news. check out the labels. <~~ Bunny's attempt at a cliff-hanger. Dan knows what she's talking about.

break for the damned Bun

2011-09-08T18:57:00.005-04:00

oh, my gosh. oh, heavens, oh, my. Bunny is slumpy tonight. slumpy, life-tired, exhausted Bunny. see that face? that's the face of a Bun who is damned. damned if she doesn't. damned if she does. what's a Bunny to do?

she saw one of her blog comment and she got a note sent to her. oh, how she trembled and cried a little. Bunny was wrong again.

and now something big has happened to her and she wants to tell it but she is afraid. something in her life has happened and she wants to share it, but she is unsure of herself. it's not about work, nor her health. not about a man. {Bunny just threw up in her mouth a little bit at the thought of that.}

it is about something else, but Bunny feels she needs to think long and hard about how she writes now. she needs to choose her words carefully. last posting, oh, gosh, well, she mucked it up, she guesses. somehow it was taken wrong. she went at length in the comment section of that last posting to explain herself. now she is exhausted and awash in hesitation at trying to write about her news.

how to write it. what words work for everyone. will someone get upset with her? will someone point out her flaws. this is her space but not really. this is not the first time, nor the third time, that Bunny has been gotten after, in a manner of speaking, and speaking, or writing, is what gets Bunny into trouble. she gets misunderstood a lot.

no place for a Bun to write. *sigh* fingers quiver over the keys even now and she is still teary in her blinky blink eyes.

break time. Bunny needs to step away from the keyboard so all hurt feelings are soothed by her excuses and her apologies and hopefully her absence. Facebook, too. Bunny is too strung out from stuff going on. she does not want to, cannot find the strength in herself right now, to risk being seen. it was her strategy with her mother. it was her strategy during her first marriage. be quiet. go about your day unseen. nothing to pick apart if no one sees you. no reason to carve away at Bunny if she is silent.

yes, carefully planned blogs from now on. careful word usage. no more freedom to speak her mind willy nilly. no more stream of consciousness, will nilly Bunny so there will be no more complaints. no more people who get angry with the Bun. she is so tired, so very tired of people getting angry at her for her just writing down what she feels.

eggshells.

dancing on the head of a pin.

all she wanted to do was try and get stuff off her chest, but she is damned. it should be so simple. write what you feel. but it isn't. she is damned if she keeps it all trapped inside eating away at her. she is damned if she writes from her heart to let it out.

so Bunny the damned is going to take a break. she has to decide which side of the "damn" she'll take to communicate with the outside world; the only world Bunny talks to because it's not like she can talk about grief at the "bear store."

she will come back with her newsy news when she is ready and able. she'll come back when she's stopped feeling so bad about her damned self.

winter in my soul

2011-09-07T17:58:00.004-04:00

Dan posted an interesting thought. i responded with a comment as to why i write here. here is what i wrote:

i think some of us write because we are, by nature, a narrative species. we have always been storytellers. i also think that we seldom feel truly listened to. blogging is a way to put our words out there for all time. it is a technological carving in stone. we want to be heard, by someone, at some time; hopefully during our own lifetime. it is not lost on me that schizophrenics suffer from a loss of their story.

we write to break the silence that surrounds us, or at least i do. for all i have written of in my own blog, it is truly the tip of the iceberg. so much i wish i could say but do not out of fear. i, sadly, am one who blogs to, yes, see if anyone is out there, and if anyone is listening to me.

i have always been honest; told i have been brutally so. but here is the only place where i can be. i have not had benefit of friends to open up to, nor grief counselors who stay with me for longer than a handful of weeks. i am bereft of anyone to tell my story to. i have things i need to say, my heart aches to speak of, my mind screams to let go of, but i cannot here. not this publicly. and so, i use Beach Bunny, the Ambassador, my photos, and metaphors to try and give voice to what i cannot say/write.

i am tired. i feel used up. i feel like i am living with winter in my soul, and i love winter. or used to. i think in ways i still do though winter here is not like my winters up north with him. winter here is anemic. winter there, winter in Rockport, the nor'easters were magnificent.

winters there were spent walking outside for photos, to feel the cold on our skin and see what no tourist sticks around to witness. fierce winds. blinding sleet and ice that stings. waves whipped up throwing themselves like demons on the rocks around the town. even sunny days, with no storms on the horizon, held a power that kept me in awe.
on sunny days, the cold could be so brutal that it could kill if you did not keep track of the time. the sun seems so far away, smaller than in summer time, as distant and uncaring as a mother's rejection. and yet, i was not alone. he was beside me, behind me, holding my hand, handing me a flask of hot chocolate. always there with me.

and going home, the smells of stew simmering on the wood stove. the dogs needing to have ice balls slowly combed from their fuzzy bodies. the warmth of sitting on the sofa between his legs and leaning back against his chest, both of us reading. both of us warm. entwined physically. our souls essentially melting into one another until you could not tell where one left off and the other began.

such was winter with him.

and then he died, and i was left alone.
only my children but they have their lives. i have tried to connect to widows here, but i cannot. they do not want or need me. and i do not want or need them. after the pneumonia of Jan. this year, and what was said to me, i became angry at the world, angry with people, quicker to judge motives. i am ice cold inside. winter has come and i am alone in it.

there are things i wish i could tell someone. there are things i wish i could sit across from a person and say out loud; say it out loud and witness their reaction, feel some kind of compassion come across to me.

i feel hollowed out. life has taken me and carved me up and then stuck a knife in and hollowed out as much as it can and still leave me breathing. then it said, "there, you bitch, make something of that. make something of yourself now."

so i sew. so i stuff bunnies and bears and wolves, and say words over them, heart ceremonies. and i write. i send a stuffed bunny to do what i cannot do. but do anyone of you who host her know why she is there? really know why? because i need her to be. i live through the photos. i crave the attention. and it is all because i am lonely.

just before Camp Widow this year, a widow wrote to me and asked if she would see me there. i wrote her back and said, "no. i have no money for something like that. and the job i have pays minimum wage therefore i can never take off. i will never have enough money for a vacation."

there is this ineffable sadness that dwells inside me. i feel it all the time. even when i am smiling and laughing at work, it feels like a lie. i do not want to be there. don't get me wrong, i love my job. it is giving me a food in my stomach and gas and paying for my electric and other stuff, but i feel like a marionette. this is where life has dumped me. i am not where i want to be, should be, or with whom.

i am alone in winter. i am knocking on the door, {or am i already inside} the winter of my life. i am older, 53, and i am sad and angry at people. i hurt so much of the time. there are things that are going on that i cannot write about but know that i am hurting over them and it is nothing i can fix. it is something that i will have to let wash over me and fight to not let it drown me.

as odd as this sounds, i miss winter. even though it lives inside me, it is the barren winter of blowing ice and snow, of the distant, uncaring rejection of the sun. i want the winter i knew with him to come back. i want to drive up to the warm glow of my Dragon waiting for me at home. i want to walk into a place that smells of his stew and cinnamon and brewing hot tea. i want to sit on the sofa against his big body and feel his warmth radiating into my back.

i want what i can never have again. him. and i am bereft.

so i will write it and then sit back and wonder if anyone truly reads, if anyone understands what i mean.

i am without solace.

winter is in my soul and i am cold and tired.

intimate thoughts

2011-08-30T20:50:00.003-04:00

i miss him. it is not really getting any better. it is just longer between heart-wrenching crying jags.

"being in grief, it turns out, is not unlike being in love. in both states, the imagination is entirely occupied with one person … everything that touches us seems to relate back to that center; there is no other emotional life, no place outside the universe of feeling centered on the pivotal figure." ~ Mark Doty
i had always sort of wanted to wander around this place, inside as well as out. it is an old place that had its exterior done over after a huge storm one season. but i have seen photos of its insides. just a few, in the basement of the Rockport Library where the historical documents are kept. it has its secrets. i always wanted the chance to explore this place on my own. now i only dream about it.

"to live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it:
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go."
~ Mary Oliver, “In Blackwater Woods

"there is eloquence in screaming." ~ Patrick Jones

and i have screamed into my pillow quite a lot of late.

especially with this third bout of pneumonia in this year of our Lord 2011.

i need his care and comfort.

i need his hot tea.

i need his warm body to keep mine warm.

i need his cool cloths to keep my fever down.

i need his big hands to rub that stinky Vick's on my chest that he never minded doing,

so i can breathe.

when i had pneumonia while he was alive,

he would put his large, warm hand on my chest and calm my fears,

help me relax to find my breath.

he would breathe with me,

unison,

symmetry,

each inhale a little deeper than the one before.

i want him back.

3 times in 8 months is too much to do alone.

i think the worst part of this is the incessant remembering that i couldn't save him.

no one could save him.

in this day and age of commercials saying,

"i survived the widow-maker; take this pill and you can, too,"

no one could save him.

least of all me.

and he is better, handsomer, cuter, more needed by me than those actors on those commercials.

i love him best of all.

i need him most of all.

"i have ever since {he died} seemed to myself broken off from mankind; a kind of solitary wanderer in the wild of life, without any direction, or fixed point of view;

a gloomy gazer on the world to which i have little relation."

~ Samuel Johnson

i sometimes wonder how i am doing this alone and then i remember,

i don't have a choice.

they tell you, "just breathe."

easier said than ..........

Ambassador Bun is on her way once again

2011-08-27T17:41:00.004-04:00

she's been all "around the block" a few times.

Canada, England,

Wales, Australia,

Arizona, Alaska,

Houston, and now she's headed to....

Elmendorf, Texas. after that, she heads to Maine.

the Traveling Ambassador of Grief and Whimsy has visited

some very wonderful people.

she has listened to them,

gone to work with them,

slept beside them,

but mostly

she has

listened to them.

and in the end,

that's all we really want;

for someone to come where we are sitting quietly,

grieving,

and listen to us.

after Maine, she may head back to Texas for Thanksgiving and Christmas,

or to South Carolina and then Texas.

after Christmas though,

the Ambassador moves on to

California, then Chicago, and then St. Paul.

and finally, she will be returned to me.

i miss her. silly i know with all the bunnies i have here,

but she IS the Ambassador of Grief and Whimsy.

she's my girl, my bun, my creation.

i dreamed her up over the sad, lonely Christmas of 2010.

her tour has taken on a life of its own.

i am proud of her and what she does.

i am always a little caught off guard that

everyone responds to her as they do.

she's just a stuffed bunny,

but it's her face.

her lovely, gentle eyes and her soft Bunny face,

i think,

that captures everyone's heart.

if you have already had a visit from her, i hope it was as wonderful as your photos look.

if you have not, she is coming. i promise. i am manipulating her itinerary so that

she comes to you as you wish as best as i can.

i hope she is worth the wait.

she is such a snuggly Bun,

such a good listener,

and her journal is ready for you to write in.

her little patchwork bag has a small gifty in it for you.

everyone gets one.

the widow in South Carolina already has

more to put in her bag to make sure you all get one.

the Ambassador Bun is on the move again.

she will get to you. she promises.

peace to all who read.

peace and light to all who grieve.

Bunny's desperation

2011-08-26T20:39:00.002-04:00

Bunny is sick. she has a cold. she is snuggling up close to her humidifier. nice humidifier. good humidifier. take care of Bunny. help her get over this. please, please don't let her get pneumonia again.

i miss you, Carl. i miss you more and more with each little catastrophe. i miss you more and more with each nice little thing that happens that i cannot find you to tell you about it. simply put, i miss you. and time is not easing the ache. not yet anyway.

a hug. come give me a little hug. a hug is all i need and i think i can do this a little longer.