The Present

I just read the book "The Present" by Spencer Johnson.

Daddy was always giving us self-help books. I say "always", but it wasn't always. It was really after he left Mom, or after we grew up. Those things happened pretty much together, I guess. When he left Mom, we were mostly grown up. At least grown-up enough to only go back for either advice or money. (Parental lesson there. Obvious to anyone with adult children.)

But I digress. Actually, I don't digress, I just let my mind wander.

Anyway, I am back home in Louisiana. I have a few reasons for coming "home". To pick up furniture. To be alone. To focus. To think. To mourn. To reflect. To learn. To pay attention. To rest.

I'm doing the typical hiding in the bedroom thing, eating what I can find in the kitchen. The only light on, in the house, is in the bedroom. I don't want to leave the house. I don't want to see people. And I don't want to see or do things that John and I used to share. I don't want to face the future without him. This fucking sucks! But, I have to go out because I am almost out of cigarettes. See the irony? I have to go out of the house to get the thing that will eventually kill me, therefore, I am forced to face life. Ying Yang.

I have been home almost 24 hours, and I just got my suitcase out of the truck.

Next to my bed are bookshelves. I picked up a easily read detective book, and read the whole thing this mourning. And I found a little book Daddy gave me. He always wrote a short message on the inside cover. He apparently gave me "The Present" for Christmas 2003. It made me cry seeing his hand-writing.

I don't want to be doing this fucking grief shit! I want to be four years old and pitch a big fucking fit and get away without have to do it. Or just express my energy and be able to focus and get it done.

My four-year-old self needs a nap.

I love you, Daddy and John!

I'm off to see the Wizard

Toto, where shall I go? What shall I do? (Maybe I'm thinking of Scarlet O'hare in Gone with the Wind. I'm getting my classic movies mixed up, and showing my age.) I'm off to see the Wizard, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

Why is that going through my head? Because I am lost. It struck me that I am over the "acute" phase of grief. Today is 6 months since John passed away. (That is the first time I have used the term "passed away".) No wonder I feel sad. Tears are bubbling up and I'm not sure if I can contain them. I don't really cry much, but I never really have. I'm a tough old boot. Even though I think it would be cleansing to cry, it is hard to get there. We watched a movie the other night, and I started crying half way through, and continued until the movie was over. Why is it easier to cry at a movie?

Today is my sister's birthday. That makes me feel like crying too. Daddy is gone, John is gone, but the birthdays, holidays, life events just keep on coming. Life is just sad today.

Back to the Wizard. I love traveling. And, I'm lost now. In a split second, my future changed. No warning, no preparation, blind-sided. I was supposed to get to travel with John. We thought we would get an RV and wonder around the U.S. That was the plan. Damn. So, now I get to do it by myself. And by "get", I mean that totally sarcastically. We were such a good team! Wondering around the U.S. together would have been amazing. I would have dragged him to museums, hiking trails, lakes, botanical gardens, etc. John was a much more experienced traveler and would have given me courage to try new places and new things. He was much more of a "people person" than me, and a lot more courageous in trying new food. He was also very "street smart". That seems very helpful when traveling. And of course, two heads are always better than one. But, he is gone. I hope he is okay. I worry about that. Stupid, I know.

So, now, instead of getting to be part of a team, I get to do it alone. I am standing at a fork in the road, and I am having trouble figuring out which fork to take. I want to get lost and find my way. The magical wizard is out there and I will find him, or die trying. That is the only thing I have left to fear, dying myself, but that is for another post.

If I write my plans on this blog, I am one step closer to turning the plan into action. So here goes....

Tonight, we are going out to celebrate Pat's birthday. My plan is to leave for Louisiana (home, sort of home) on Monday and come back with our beds and a couple of pieces of furniture we need here, in my other home. After that, away I go!!!!!!!!!! I want to get John's CB installed in the truck, and get a camper shell. I do not want to be staying in hotels every night. I really want to be closer to nature than that, so camping sounds delicious. My first destination will be Mount Rushmore. When trucking, we got within 30 miles of Mount Rushmore, but you cannot take an 70' truck sight-seeing. From South Dakota, I plan to continue west to Washington State. I want to see the Mount St. Helen museum and western Oregon is beautiful! I have only been to Canada once, so, north to Vancouver and since I will be that close, on to Alaska. The Grand Canyon is also something we got close to in the truck, but never got to see, so my plan is to travel south from Alaska, through Northern California, east to Nevada, then south to the Grand Canyon. If I haven't found the wizard by then, I want to explore the Gulf Coast all the way through the Florida Keys. If I still haven't found the wizard (and have managed to earn money somehow), the next desired destination is Europe!

Okay, I actually feel better now. Thank you for listening.

I am still mad

*Warning - strong, foul language*



I apparently still have anger issues. I thought I was working my way through them. And, I am, I guess. I'm not as angry as I was (good thing), but little things set me off.

We live on the bottom floor of an apartment complex. I was trying to take a nap yesterday and the kid that lives upstairs was making so much fucking noise our sliding glass door was rattling. Now, I like kids. It is summer, kids are home, bored, playing, being kids basically. But DAMN! I feel like I got irrationally mad. Good thing I have some manners and didn't say anything. He was just being a kid.

Today, I was walking to the post office. I was crossing a street IN THE CROSSWALK and this stupid mother fucker in his big ass pickup truck just kept going! He had to stop and wait for the traffic before turning right, and sat right in front of me, blocking the fucking crosswalk. He wasn't able to turn until after I had already made it across. Now, what would it have hurt for him to wait BEHIND the crosswalk? Don't pedestrians have the right of way? Stupid red-neck tattooed asshole. (I'm not insulting tattooed people, really. I have two tats myself.)

So, two days, two happenings that just got me going. WTF? I'm not usually so irritable.

What I am really mad at right now is.....John fucking DIED! He fucking DIED! Why couldn't he just get really sick? Why did it have to be so bad that he died? Why???????????????????? Why did he have to fucking die?

Why do I have to go through grief? I'm basically a good person. Last night was group grief therapy. I was mad and didn't go. Why do I have be going on the grief journey? It is not fucking FAIR!!!!! I don't want to do it anymore!

Life just fucking sucks!

Do you ever just feel like beating the living shit out of something?

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK (of course that is underlined in red, it must be spelled wrong.)

Okay. There is not one goddamned thing I can do about it. Just fucking try to think about something else. Let the anger just sit there and simmer. And yes, I have tried to walk it out. Nature is supposed to be so calming. Well, I just got back from a walk - it didn't help.

One more question - why do good people have to die, and bad ones get to live?

John

I almost picked up the phone to call you a few nights ago. That was the first time that has happened. What I wouldn't give to be able to call you. What were you doing Sunday night? What is it like to be dead?

I finally got the results of the autopsy. I feel like I have been holding my breath all this time. The waiting is over. I was so torn between wanting to know, and not wanting to know. The next step is to absorb the details of the report. I haven't even looked at it yet. Just knowing it is there is a good thing. Betsy read it, and gave me her first impression. I am so relieved that it seemed to be more of a "natural cause", than the fault of someone else. That would have been intolerable.

Betsy said she is glad you didn't know how bad your heart was. She called it "old people disease". You would have hated having it, with every fiber of your being. In a strange way, I'm glad you didn't know too. On one hand, if you had known, you could have done more about it. On the other hand, if you had known, you would have had to do more about it. What would you like? To eat all the tacos and pico de gallo you want, or to have to diet and exercise all the time? Would you not have been a truck driver? Would you have rather gone the safe route and gotten some dumb job in Louisiana that you hated? Are you sorry you died, or is it OK to be dead? I almost want to die myself, just to see what you are doing. Just to be with you again. (Don't worry, readers. I'm not going to intentionally die.)

Anyway, I love you Bubbles. I still do, and I always will. You showed me what a good husband is. You showed me what a good man is. You showed me what a good person is. You showed me what a good life is.

The tears are finally able to flow more freely.

7 ways to find clarity

I follow a FB page called The Grief Toolbox. It has a lot of good information. I keep gravitating towards the poems for some reason. Probably because they are short. The above poem is from that page.

I stumbled upon an article, also on their page, called 7 ways to Find Clarity Following the death of a Loved One.

https://www.thegrieftoolbox.com/article/7-ways-find-clarity-following-death-loved-one#.T9TUIb35SkY.facebook

I included the link because I think I have to give credit if I'm going to quote it. Plus, you may want to read the article yourself. If not, don't worry, I'm about to talk about. Here is the premise...


"When you lose someone you love, it's natural to start thinking about life. You think about where you are in life, what you want to get out of it, and what's missing. These thoughts are a natural reaction to your circumstances and should not be ignored, but rather nurtured and acted upon. Take this opportunity to do some soul searching and look to answer all of these questions about your purpose in life and what you need to do to make a change. Here are 7 tips for finding clarity and purpose following the death of your loved one."

1.  What do you miss about the departed?
For me, this is an never ending question. I'm not sure I am ready to look at this. But, I will give it a start anyway. I miss John's sense of humor most of all. I miss his dumb jokes. I miss his blue eyes that always looked like they were smiling. I miss looking at his arms and hands, how strong and able they were. I miss eating with him. I miss how he would moan in delight when I made tacos with pico de gallo. I miss hearing him chat with his mom on the phone. I miss him tooling around the house doing something and nothing at the same time.  I miss how proud he was of Jes. I miss getting to share her life with him. There is so much, this list could go on and on and on. I think I will physically write some more of this list in my private journal. In quiet contemplation and vulnerability. This is probably a VERY important step in my grief. I will have to give this more thought.

2.  What are you passionate about?
Probably the most important thing for myself is freedom and peace. I hate the constrains of a "predictable" life. I hate getting stuck in a rut. I hate the "rat race". This is supposed to be about what I want, but all I can come up with is what I don't want. I will have to give this more thought. (Are you sensing a pattern here?)

3.  What are your unique talents?
Have you ever asked yourself this question? I feel like I don't have any unique talents. How many of us really do? If we did, wouldn't the world be a totally happy place? Wouldn't we all be rock stars, or rich novelists, or successful chefs? I do like to write, and I love to travel. A combination of the two would be a dream.

4.  What's holding you back?
Damn good question! The answer is FEAR!

5.  Seek Guidance.
OK. But, let me get over fear first.

6.  Keep a Journal.
Doing that as we speak. But, the article says to read back over it and see if something in particular keeps popping up. I know right now, anger keeps popping up, but that will not help me find clarity, or find a future.

7.  Schedule time for this journey.
Does that mean writing in this blog everyday? Reading articles every morning? I do enjoy the first few hours of the mourning wondering around the internet. Reading about grief, thinking about John and Daddy, and frankly thinking about myself. What to do, where to go..... I call this grief work. As far as scheduling a life, I have to figure out what life I want first.

Ok, my work for the day is done. I hope everyone has a very good day. For me, I try to remember I still need to enjoy life because Daddy and John don't get to enjoy it anymore.

Hope Waited

I knew that grief waited. I didn't know hope waited. That is good to know. We, or should I say "I", think that if something good happens, you should grab it, then and there. The thought of good things waiting, never even occurred to me.

As I was copying, pasting, linking (whatever) this picture, it started raining. I am currently in Texas where it very seldom rains, especially in the summer. Remember when you were a kid and you played in the rain, jumping in the puddles. Or in our case rolling in the puddles, getting really dirty, having tons of fun. Most of the time when it rains, we run to our car, or to the inside. Getting wet seems to be a hassle, an inconvenience. Well, this morning, I decided to go out in it. Everyone one else was asleep, so I didn't have anyone to play with, so I just went outside. I stood, in the rain, in the yoga pose called "tree pose". Basically you just stand straight up, hands by your side, feeling your feet planted, while trying to touch the sky with your head. I tried to meditate. If you have never tried meditation, it is fucking hard. I just kept repeating the word "quiet". But, since I was in the parking lot of the apartment complex, it wasn't very quiet, even on a Sunday morning. When you are a child, it doesn't matter how things look to other people, if it is fun, you just do it. Since I'm not a kid anymore, I felt like I looked weird just standing in the rain. So, when a car drove by, I had to pretend I had a purpose for being out there. Needless to say, meditation didn't work well for me. But, the yoga pose worked really good. I felt my muscles loosening up. It always surprises me how tense I am.

Before it started raining, I was doing my usual internet browsing. I found two new grief pages and was reading other people's advice and experiences. I read an article about signs. I read one about emotions taking control, albeit temporarily. I read about what not to say to a grieving person, and how easy it is to hurt their feelings. Then, I found the poem about hope, and it started raining. I am taking those two things as signs that I am doing ok. I need to be living in the moment.

This post may seem disconnected and rambling, but I feel the need to clean out a little of the dust that has been settling.

First of all, I feel a little bad about my last post when I was so angry. But, like I said then, I need to express those feelings or I will never be able to get rid of them. Apparently my anger is still an issue. That is part of the reason I haven't even tried to look for a job yet. I'm worried that I will not be able to contain this anger, and will go off on someone that doesn't deserve it. I also feel like I would not be a very good employee and that wouldn't be fair to the company that hired me. On the other hand, boredom is also my enemy.

I also have a bit of frustration. There are times and people I would like to talk about John or Daddy with, but unless they are in the moment of sadness, it gets passed over. Sometimes I need to tell people what is going on. And I need to tell it to people that haven't already heard it before. Death is such a taboo subject. Because death is fucking scary. Who wants to think, much less talk about, death? Unfortunately, it is very much a part of my life. And, I have said this before, but if you have never been touched by the death of a close loved one, it is impossible to relate. I never could.

Here is a frustration that I have. Daddy's best friend, Larry, received some of Daddy's ashes. It was VERY painful to get the e-mail from him. I have a ton of questions, still. I sent Larry an e-mail saying I couldn't really express what I was feeling. I didn't hear a word back from him. He is in Colorado, so I thought he was being affected by the wildfires, and that was why he hadn't responded. So, I sent him an e-mail saying we were thinking of him and hoping for the best in wake of the fires, and I got a rapid response. Why can he respond to that, but can't talk about Daddy? I wish he would have just said, "I'm here for you to talk to." Instead, I got nothing. Not even acknowledgement that I had written about Daddy's ashes. Nothing. That is hurtful. I am in pain, and I need people to take some of it. I need to give it to them, have them absorb it, take some of it. These "people" can do that by just listening. Listening and caring. It is just so much easier to stick your head in the sand, put your hands over your ears and say nanananananana, not listening. But that hurts. Some people just really come off as selfish. That's a shame.

It is funny to me that on Jes' birthday, I missed John a lot more that I did on my own birthday. John was more generous than I am, and he always had things he wanted Jes to have, or to experience. I got to talk about plans for her birthday, talk about gift ideas, etc. He always wanted her to have a good birthday. I missed him a lot that day. My anger also reared it ugly head that day. Funny, (not haha funny, but hmmmm, strange, funny).

Yesterday Betsy and I went to the lake. We used to go there as kids. Growing up, we had a ski boat, and practically every weekend, we went to Lake Travis. As soon as we parked, and got all settled, a boat went by pulling someone on an inner-tube. I started quietly crying. A few seconds later, Betsy said, "Man, I feel like crying". She looked over at me, and I was already crying. So, we just let the crying come out. It didn't last a long time, but we cried. And talked. And got better. It seems like we have to spend every second holding ourselves together, and when we got to a point of relaxation, the emotions just came up and out. We may look fine, we may act fine, but apparently we are not fine. Our emotions are barely covered under the surface. One little poke, or scratch, and here it comes.

Well, the household is stirring. I have aired some thoughts and it is time to put them away for the day and "get on with it". This is what "grief work" is.