Last Straw

I keep thinking things are getting better and then something else happens. Every time I start to get my footing, start to try to make sense of things, something else happens. I can't think, I can't concentrate, I just work. When I come home, I sleep. I sleep until I can get up and go to work again. At work things make sense, things are coming together, and it's exciting. Of course who knows how the President's news will impact things. If there are no projects ....

Stefan leaves in June. He's going to be going to Japan, then Thailand or New Zealand, then Iraq or Afghanistan. He'll be back in January... maybe. "They don't do long deployments anymore" but part of the time he'll be at sea and we'll go months at a stretch without being able to talk to him. Focus on the adventure of it for him, right? My mind agrees but my heart aches.

My Mom called yesterday, at work of course, to tell me how awful I look and how worried my brother is. Like an accusation. Then she brought up an illness I had a few years ago and started talking like she was sure that it's back and I need "treatment." My God, like telling me I'm going to die is going to help with stress right now?

Then I was looking for an email I sent and I ran across a bunch of emails from Mary. It was right around the last time I saw her and she was talking about her friend Terry. Terry had just died after a long fight against breast cancer. Mary was so sad, in shock, but loving and needing support herself for once. I'm numb. I can't even cry anymore. This is so not about me. So many people lost her, not just me. Guilt on top of grief. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. What am I supposed to do?

So many other little catastrophes some with big impacts and I'm numb still. I can't process anything. In the big scheme of things do they matter? Probably not but they have to be dealt with now, with energy I don't seem to possess.

For some reason it hasn't been "the" straw yet. I don't know why God thinks this is good for me. I can't see what's around the corner from here but I'll keep plugging away, hoping and praying, and things will get better. That kernel of hope is hard to squelch. As I read this, I make myself sick. Where's that eternal voice of optimism? Where did I go? It's amazing that I have any friends left. I wouldn't want to be around me.

I'm going to start wearing hats...

Mary's funeral was today. I wasn't surprised by the number of people that were in attendance, but I was surprised by the number of people who apparently knew Mary the same way I did. Same way in that she made everyone's life she chose to be a part of feel special, loved, and moved by her generosity. There were few dry eyes, hundreds of friends, and almost as many family members.

There were a number of epiphanies I felt strike me throughout the day. How much I love Ellen and would be lost without her eternal optism, support, and humor. I felt more "Catholic" than I have in a long time. The church was a comfort, the Mass familiar and soothing, the words and movements coming automatically. I also kept noticing this elegant, if somewhat defiant looking, older lady in a voluminous cloak with a silver adornment at the nape, wearing a hat.

I love hats. I go to the department store and try them on. I love big sun hats and caps, hats for warmth and hats for fun. I love the colors and textures and patterns. They make me smile. They're daring, in of and themselves, and bold. I don't generally wear hats. Maybe I'll wear a ball cap if it's summer and I'm running around on the weekend or I'll wear a sun visor if I go hiking. But those are good reasons to wear a hat, appropriate even. They seem too ostentacious for me. I am no fashionista. I'm not thin or beautiful. I'm not glamorous or mysterious, well traveled, particularly well read, or even just striking. Who am I to where a hat?

Regardless of all those truths, life is too short to make yourself "qualify" for what makes you happy. Even if I am none of those things, like Mary with her love of jewelery, big colorful bags, great wine, and adventures, I'm going to enjoy the little things in life that bring me pleasure. So, starting now, I'm going to start wearing hats.

Things we remember

Ganesha is the most recognizable god of the Hindu religion. This brave guardian is beheld today as the most auspicious God of new beginnings. He is worshipped during every festival and before people undertake a journey or embark on a new venture. You will also see him carefully guarding entrances to temples and homes. He is consider to be a remover of obstacles and a deliverer of good fortune.

Mary loved Ganesha. She sought out items possessing his image and often referred to using Ganesha symbols to remove obstacles from her life as she embarked on new projects or embraced change of some sort. I remember researching its meaning and history after a conversation with her over breakfast one morning. As we usually did, we met for breakfast and Wild Flower and then walked over to Changing Hands to look at books. She loved books. She loved little miniature journals, the more decorative the better and she was especially pleased if she found one with hand-made paper inside.

She loved tie-dye, these light green stones that I can't remember the name of, and was in a purple phase. She was on a quest for the perfect purple scarf. We were looking at them together one morning; this one too dark, this one too light, that one not enough blue, the other too much. I found the perfect scarf for her for Christmas, and a great cook book because she loved to cook and we were going to start cooking together sometimes just for fun, and a little tiny journal with Ganesha on the cover. I found a pretty card and wrote in it how much her friendship meant to me.

The gift sits on my dining room table still. I can't bear to touch it or put the things away. I suppose I could keep the scarf, write in the journal, and maybe LN would like the cook book. I can't disassemble her gift though. I want to give her her things. I want to see her face when she realizes that I was watching which purples she liked and which she didn't and that I found the perfect color. I want to see her smile when she sees the little Ganesha, hear her laugh when we talk about what we should make first, and see her eyes fill when she reads the card. I want her to know what it feels like to have someone notice the little things that you like. I want her to know she was so special that she deserved a million-fold what I could give her with my second-hand books and trade-in credit purchases.

She'll never know now and while I'm sure many people did many things for her, I didn't. I didn't and now she's gone and I can't.

Goodbye My Friend

The last post was written over a week ago. I had to put the finishing touches on it before putting it out to the world, and so had not published. So much has changed since I began writing that. I wanted to honor where my thoughts and feelings were then, however, before writing again based on recent events.

M, Mary, Mary O'Connor, is gone. She died last Friday. She was visiting her niece in Washington, DC and her niece came home from work to find her dead. I don't know what happened yet or any details of her service.

I was angry with my brother this morning. He made a comment last night that infuriated me. Just before Christmas a buddy of his from South Dakota died. He was a young guy with a family; someone my brother would hang out with occasionally. He was driving in a snow storm and lost control of his truck on the ice. He slid into a pole and was killed. I don't know if he was drinking or not but from what Lee tells me it was likely. Lee made the mistake of saying that he knew how I felt, in losing Mary, because he had dealt with the same thing in losing his buddy. I was so furious I couldn't speak.

How dare he compare some young guy he would party with once in a while to my relationship with Mary. I slept on it, stewed about a bunch of other things that have been going woefully wrong, and then spoke with him this morning. Just so he was clear, I explained to him, Mary was NOT like his buddy. She wasn't just some random friend I would do things with now and again. I had known Mary for nearly thirteen years and over the past several years she had been more of a Mother to me, more family to me, than my own had been.

I saw Mary at least once a week, sometimes more. She never missed an important event, she never forgot my Birthday, she didn't have to be coerced into being there for me, she just was. She loved me. She was wise and warm and wonderful. She counseled me through some of the most difficult times in my life. She let me cry and worry and vent. She made me laugh and was generous with her time, patience, and spirit. She offered her support, emotionally and financially, when my "family" couldn't be bothered. She never took but always gave. She loved music, wine, laughter, art, and her community. She was part of the fabric of more than just my life. Everyone knew her and everyone loved her. She was Mother to me. My own doesn't really care, doesn't remember my Birthday, can't attend events, would rather be married to my molester than be mother to me.

I know she's gone but she can't be gone. My friends all have lives. They have children and families, jobs and homes, things that they have to focus on. I'm an intruder. Even when they welcome me and I know they're sincere, I'm not family not really. Now that Mary's gone I feel so alone. I miss her so much. I can't believe I'll never again hear the sound of her voice, listen to her wisdom, or share laughter and wine with her. I feel hallow. Did she even know how much she meant to me? How much she meant to everyone?

Four Muses

I drafted a post and then read it and decided to start over. My original post was negative. It spoke of my frustrations. It spoke of all the things I'm struggling to adjust to and work through. I always have so many things going on at once. I can't slow down. For all the million things I've committed to, there are a million more I feel guilty for not pursuing.

I decided to start over today because if it's true that we attract what we put out into the world, I need to focus on what's right in my world as opposed to what's wrong in it. So what's right in my world? For one thing my four muses. Muses are described in Greek mythology as goddesses of art and science. They were the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory. These goddesses were muses of tragedy, history, various types of poetry, music, dancing, astronomy, and harmony.

I have four modern day muses. These wonderful women inspire me and possess qualities that I don't think they even realize they possess. Ms. LN is my muse of hearth, home, and family. She embodies generousity and joy. She gives selflessly, without hesitation, and brings sunshine into every life she touches. From day-to-day, she is my solice and comfort when I've lost hope. She is my closest sister.

M is my muse of history, accountability, self-awareness, and honesty. M embodies what it means to be responsible for yourself and the impact you have on the world around you. She cares. She's intelligent, respected, and diligent in her awareness of what can be versus what is and what will be if we do nothing. She is warm and bold, doesn't avoid the difficult, and is ever ready to help. She doesn't offer her allegiance or friendship lightly and once received, it is something to be deeply treasured. She believes in a circle of grandmothers that guide us spiritually. Envisioning these wise, timeless, women engenders a vision of who M is herself; timeless, wise, unruffled, practical, patient, and loving.

KAG is my muse of knowing. She's mysterious. I described her recently as having characteristics similar to Mata Hari. She's "spies like us" in a real world of high-level, self-important people. She's the woman behind the curtain, the imp laughing at the absurdity of it all, and the mirth realizing that none of it really matters anyway.

Ms. J represents the world that is unseen. She's such a deeply spiritual person, such a giving, and joyous person. I have a connection with her that reminds me that all is not what it appears to be. It reminds me to celebrate living and to not fear death. Ms J reminds me that we all have a song in our hearts, a dance to undertake with pure abandon, and that a woman lives within that is tied to an ancestry, a history of healers, teachers, mothers, daughters, and lovers who have suffered but survived. Not only did they survive, they ensured the survival of those around them. We are a part of that. As women, that is what we bring into the world, and it is ancient and pure, wild and powerful, and both our essence and legacy in this life.

Puppies and Afghanistan

I'm preparing for a hike, sort of. I'm meeting a friend in a while, sadly a friend who wants to be more than friends. I have to tell him today that that just can't happen. He's so bright, amazing education, funny, and sweet. But, he's not for me. My life seems to be a series of dramas over the past few years. It's not changing. The layers of complication are there, will probably always be there. His life, at least how his life appears, is that of a person who has grown up with every privelege. My partner needs to be able to relate to my life without judgement and without me worrying about being judged.

Jasper barely let me sleep last night. I'm tired but decided to get up early anyway to try to get a jump on my day. I'm frustrated after last night. Lee got antsy and went to a sports bar. We didn't have a lot of cash but he went anyway and spent what we had. He took change with him too. That seemed so sad to me. I wish we were in a position so that if he wanted to go out he just could. He had been drinking beer before he left and you could tell he was well on his way to a good buzz. He called from the bar and wanted me to come over there. He said it was so I could hang out with him and listen to bands but it wasn't. It was because he wanted me to come and use my visa/debit card to pay so he could stay out longer. When I said no, he came home and tried to convince me again. I said no again and he took his dog in the room but left shortly after I went to bed. I don't know where he went. He could have walked back to the bar or just walked his dog but I have a feeling he went back to the bar. I felt awful because I took my purse and keys and put them in my room. I want to trust him. I believe that this time can be different but when he drinks, he's different. He doesn't think responsibly and he's big, big and intimidating. I have to talk to him about this but I don't know how.

My mind is heavy with that, rather than get some work done, I'm distracted. I'm surfing amazon looking for books about Afghanistan and how to raise puppies. I think Jasper was too young to leave his Mom just yet but now that he's here we have to figure out how to make it work. Kind of like Lee. I love my brother so much. He's got such a good heart and he's had such a difficult life. We have to make this time different.

Hello 2010!

Well, 2010 should certainly be an interesting year if the first day was any indication of what's ahead. We started the year with getting lost in the desert, adopting a puppy, and learning that I might become a Grandmother!

Where to begin? I went hiking yesterday, as the tour guide for my brother Lee, niece Jessica, and my niece's visiting boyfriend Josh, I was in charge of picking the trails in a familiar mountain preserve. Sadly, I was not as familiar as I had imagined because I got us lost. One wrong turn after another, hiking across raw desert in the hopes of getting back to the main trails, and packs of wild animals was NOT what I had in mind when I suggested the outing! Lee and Josh were fine, with the exception of losing Jessica and I repeatedly, but Jessica, who is far from the avid outdoors person, was ragged by the time we finally found our way back to the parking lot. Inside of the two and half hours we spent hiking, we almost ran out of light and got stranded in the dark, my brother's dog fell into some cactus, our party got separated, and Jessica and I had a bunch of coyotes circling us. I think everyone was relieved to make it out alive!

On our way into the reserve, there was a woman with a basket of puppies. One in particular really caught my eye so I decided he should be mine. I decided to name him Jasper. Jasper's six weeks old and is a lab/pit bull mix. It was an impulsive decision but with Lee living with me now it'll be great. He has a pit bull puppy that is about three or four months old. His dog is too big to play with my ShiTzus, Dinky and Dolly, and needs a companion. I've also always wanted a big dog and with my brother here, it'll be easier to have one. Our first night was spent waking up every two or three hours to go outside and lots of whimpering. I hope he gets adjusted more by the time I have to start my new job on Monday.

After driving Jessica and Josh back to my Mom's we picked up my son, Stefan. Stefan's nineteen and a Marine. He's going to be deployed (likely) in February to Afghanistan. I'm so torn when he's here. I have to maintain boundaries as his Mom but I also want to see him and want him to be happy. That was part of a mini drama New Year's eve. He wanted to take my car out and I wouldn't let him. As a result he ended up staying with his girlfriend, Camille. After we got home last night, he dropped a bomb in that Camille's worried that she's pregnant. Great. I'm 38 and possibly going to be a Grandmother? Not something I'd relish right now. Neither of them have their own vehicles, Camille's still in high school, she doesn't have a job, and they have no clue what it would take to raise a child. They're not capable of taking care of themselves right now let alone take care of a baby. My most fervent hope is that the only baby in our immediate future is Jasper!