Archives for category: grief

I’m sipping my coffee and watching the dawn become a new day. No colorful sunrise this morning, the sky is a rather bland mostly featureless gray of clouds that seem not to have made up their mind whether to be threatening and stormy or just… gray. It isn’t raining. It isn’t cold. It’s also not exactly dry, nor is it at all warm. A Spring sort of morning, betwixt things. “Nothing to see here”, and my mind moves along, exploring scattered thoughts that lack cohesiveness or theme.

I got into the garden yesterday, after work, feeling extra motivated after seeing video of deer eating my damned roses (again, as usual – I guess they’re tasty). I pulled some weeds, and added a generous layer of compost to the vegetable bed. I planted early stuff: peas, carrots, radishes. I’d have done a bit more of that, but I was exhausted before my list was. lol The rest of the evening was spent fighting my sore feet and aching back, but feeling contented and joyful that I’d at least gotten things started in the garden for the year. This morning, my legs ache, but only a little bit, and it’s the healthy feeling of working hard and gaining strength. I can’t really fuss about that, it’s part of the process of improving my fitness, generally. lol My aching muscles bring my thoughts back to the garden every time I notice them. 😀

I took time to really look over the garden yesterday evening, with an eye for where a couple new roses could go, and maybe a little bench. I’m stymied by the lush green of the lawn my Traveling Partner put in last year; it’s so beautiful it’s quite difficult to imagine removing even a scrap of it, although a quiet corner with another flower bed and a bench would reduce the amount of lawn requiring care. I turn the idea over and over in my head, and look over pictures of the yard and garden, from a variety of angles. No doubt I’ll end up asking my Traveling Partner for his suggestions and thoughts, and he’ll likely tell me he doesn’t care about that and that it’s my garden… but it does matter, and this is his home, too… I sip my coffee, smiling, and thinking about how much love is like… dark matter? Filling all the space in my relationship with my partner that isn’t filled with something else. lol (And this is the kind of dumb shit non-physicists say using the language of physics because it sounds pretty or profound or somehow meaningful, but probably isn’t any of those things due to limited actual understanding of the underlying concepts. lol I just mean to say I love that human so tremendously it seems to require cosmic concepts to convey it.)

…A bench, some roses, some flowers… maybe a small fig tree… could I make all that fit somewhere…? I’d sure like to. I see a wee quiet spot with a bench shaded by a fig tree, a small figure of Guan Yin seated on a lotus tucked among trailing roses and fragrant herbs and flowers, scents of Spring filling the air, and small birds perched here and there… There’s a corner of the lawn, toward the front, that seems… too “square”, and I wonder if perhaps a curved or triangular bed might soften the edge, and also provide a place for a bench, with a view of the rest of the garden, and the house so welcoming just beyond… For now, there’s no clear plan, just a lot of day dreams and imaginings, and memories of a friend. That’s okay, every journey happens in steps. 🙂

[…I miss you, dear friend, that’s certainly true, but when I am thinking about the garden, or working the soil with my hands, pruning roses, planting, lost in my own thoughts, you seem to be there with me, and I guess that’ll have to be enough.]

Tears well up ever so briefly. It’s not really a morning for sorrows, and there is work to be done in the here-and-now. I stretch and sip my coffee – it’s time to begin again.

It’s March in the Pacific Northwest. I’m sipping coffee at a trailhead, waiting for a break in the… rain? Rain. At least, it’s raining here; a sort of steady drizzle, barely enough to discourage me from walking.

No tears this morning, I’ve got the rain.

When I woke and dressed for my walk, I hadn’t checked the weather. I kissed my Traveling Partner, and went to the door. I was surprised to see everything dusted with snow when I opened it. I stood there rather stupidly for a moment, stalled by my astonishment. I turned back to my partner and commented that perhaps I could not go… I must have sounded disappointed (I was), because he reminded me I could just take the truck; this small amount of snow would be nothing for the truck, at all. Of course. Totally made sense and I grabbed my other keychain and left, stopping to grab my hiking boots and cane from my car.

For a short distance, I enjoyed a basically very ordinary drive, aside from the dusting of white everywhere. Within minutes the snow started falling heavily, filling the sky with fat snowflakes, dense and visibility-limiting, but that didn’t last, and I reached the trailhead safely just as the snowfall stopped altogether, becoming this drizzly rain. It’s a rather ordinary rainy March morning.

I think about the garden and the work I am hoping to do this weekend. There are seeds to plant, weeds to pull, and I’d like to get a fresh layer of compost down on the vegetable bed. Weather permitting. I’m thinking about adding a rose with my dear friend in mind… perhaps missing her will be just a little less painful if I honor her memory in my garden… some lovely spot, where I can “sit with her awhile”, now and then? I think about beautiful roses and which of the many I had grown or shared over the years she liked the most or commented on most often… Or perhaps entirely new-to-my-garden roses that somehow capture my dear friend’s sense of style and creative nature? A splash of contrasting colors… A relaxed informal habit… I think about her fondly with roses, flowers, and fragrant herbs in mind. No tears, just love and fond memories. Progress. Even grief is a journey.

… My dear friend loved my roses, and even more she loved that I love them, myself. We spoke many times about the risk of slowing down and doing less, and the unfortunate “use it or lose it” nature of physical ability as we age. I keep walking, in spite of pain, in spite of “laziness”, in spite of fatigue – and it’s because I am so painfully aware that if I stop, and my fitness falls behind, it will become progressively more difficult over time to get it back. The physical effort in the garden is very much the same sort of thing. I sigh quietly and consider the garden and what I would like to do there this year. It saddens me for a moment that my dear friend, this year, won’t be around to share it with…

The rain stops. It’s daylight. The trail awaits. It’s time to begin again.

I woke in the usual way, as if this morning is like any other. I went through my routine. Made my way to the car. Drove into the city. All quite ordinary. Traffic was fine. I’m sipping my coffee now, and watching the darkness before dawn slowly evolving through the dim twilight to the blue-gray of daybreak. It’s a rainy morning. Instead of blue skies beyond these windows, the day slowly becomes more gray, less dim.

I drink my coffee, acutely aware that there is one less reader of these words in the world, this morning. I’m saddened by that, less because the words aren’t read, than because of the loss, itself. My dear friend – one of my dearest, deepest, and longest-standing friendships of this mortal life – let go of this mortal existence with all its pain and heartbreak, joys and wonders, yesterday afternoon. I got the call yesterday, just as I was arriving home, betwixt taking the off-ramp into the small town I live in, and stopping by the store for things that seemed necessary at the time.

I took time for tears, and to alert my Traveling Partner, before I went into the store. I sat in my car weeping without restraint or concern about being seen, until I could catch my breath. My Traveling Partner offered me comfort in messages, and held me when I arrived home. My dear friend died surrounded by loving family I was told, and that gives me some comfort. (I guess she was ready – she didn’t wait long once the decisions were made, and she definitely knew where things stood and seemed okay with it, when we spoke over the the course of my visit.) Still… it’s hard to “let go”, and I cling to the recollections of past conversations and shared moments, as humans tend to do. For a moment, tears well up in my eyes again, and I look out into the sky above the city and find myself peculiarly grateful for this sullen gray morning which offers no delightful sunrise view that I might regret being unable to share with her, now. Fitting. “Nothing to see here. Move along, folks.”

…Slow tears slide down my face, ignored…

I sit quietly, thinking my solitary thoughts, sipping my coffee, and feeling the tears fall. Grief passes, I know. “The way out is through.” There’s no point trying to pretend I am made of a block of stone; this is a very human experience. I breathe. Exhale. Relax. I feel calm, just a bit sorrowful, and considering what my dear friend was to me for all these years, that seems only reasonable. I think about my Granny. I still shed occasional tears over her loss, too. My mother? Yes, her, too. Honest tears. These connections are painful to sever. The feeling of loss is genuine. I don’t bother to try to escape the emotions.

The sky continues to lighten. A new day. A new beginning. A strange new world with one less cherished friend in it. The streets don’t look any different, slick with rain, as early morning traffic slowly fills the choicest parking spaces. I take a breath and sigh out loud, sip my coffee, and prepare to begin again.

I’m packed, except for the laptop. The car is loaded, except for the laptop, and my handbag. Phone is charged. Charging brick is charged (I find it better for “topping off” the phone than the car’s USB port, and I can slip it in a pocket). I feel ready to hit the road, ready to head home. I’ll have a bite of breakfast and a cup of coffee in the hotel breakfast bar, and getting going shortly after, which should put the entire drive in daylight. If all goes to plan (though it rarely does), I should be home before 16:00, and get to enjoy dinner with my Traveling Partner, without hurrying or creating unnecessary stress for myself. 😀

…Funny, the trip down was sunny and mild. The days here were mostly also sunny and mild, with some brief rain showers and coastal fog yesterday. Today? The air is damp, it rained during the night, and the car is icy. The morning air is quite cold. I’ve used up the in-room coffee, and forgotten to ask for more. Definitely time to go home. lol

What a pleasant visit, in spite of the trying circumstances. No one wants to say final goodbyes to cherished friends, but if I’d had to script it, it may very well have gone something like this, and I feel so incredibly fortunate to have had the chance to enjoy my dear friend’s lucid companionship and humor once again. I got pretty lucky. My dear friend was often awake and aware, while I visited. We enjoyed lively conversation, some of it quite deep. I was thoroughly welcomed by her family, gathered to care for her, and make decisions. The only better outcome would likely involve modifications to how mortality works, and some kind of extension of our all too brief human lives, or perhaps some more robust mortal vessel than those we’ve got. Not this year, I guess.

So, I give the room a last look around to avoid forgetting anything. I’m definitely ready for coffee. I guess I’m also ready to begin again.

I’m sitting quietly in my hotel room. It’s well-past any sort of reasonable time (for me) to have a cup of coffee. So… I make a cup of tea. I sip it slowly, hoping it doesn’t cause a restless night, enjoying the warmth of it in my hands, anyway. I breathe, exhale, relax, and wonder how things are over at the hospital? It’s past visiting hours. I stayed with my dear friend for much of the day, after arriving shortly after visiting hours began. It was a good day for both of us, relative to where we each are in our life and circumstances. I took a break at one point to make room for the painful intimacy of important conversations about where and when and things of that sort. I’m not “decision-making family”, so excusing myself seemed the most appropriate way to proceed. Aside from that, we spent the day together, my dear friend and I, while family and her bestie came and went, and even as my dear friend napped, finally getting some restful sleep (she’d been complaining about the sleep deprivation practices that are not uncommon in hospitals and suffering from a lack of healthy deep sleep for some days). Eventually, family and my dear friend’s bestie returned from errands and things that could not be put off for later, and visiting hours began to wind down. I made my goodbye’s all around, and headed back to the hotel.

…I think about something my Traveling Partner said to me in a message earlier today, in response to my bitching about the bare bland beige hospital decor, “Hospitals treat diseases, not people.” I considered the small things I saw not being done (that surely could have created a more healing environment…) the lack of windows with views in patient rooms, the lack of art on the walls, the lack of anything at all to do while… waiting. People in hospitals do a lot of fucking waiting around. People – patients – in hospitals are often incredibly bored. That’s so unhealthy for human wellness, particularly when there is no way to alleviate it. Nothing to do. I remember it from being in the hospital, myself; the endless maddening boredom. Then there’s something hospitals could do without… the fucking endless beeping of various monitors and machinery. G’damn, it was bad. Ceaseless. Inescapable. Nerve-wracking. Through cat-nap after cat-nap, and wrecking every opportunity for deep sleep, I saw my dear friend’s brow furrow with irritation when yet another round of beeping commenced, often in some room several doors down the corridor. Oh sure, those alarms are intended to get attention, but the nurses are human, too, and eventually they tune out the beeping, especially the commonplace beeps that indicate something, but not something urgent. They can tune them out, over time, but how many patients can? The patients haven’t been forced to listen to it long enough to learn to ignore it. If it’s going to get ignored anyway, why the fuck is it being permitted to continue to destroy the rest that vulnerable ill or injured people need so very much?? I admit it – I just don’t get it. It’s fucking dumb, and it’s also rude. While I’m on about this shit, for fucks’ sake don’t let people’s minds just atrophy while they’re struggling with their health! Make a point to engage their minds, and give them a way to entertain themselves! Be patient enough to wait around for the answer to a question you’ve asked, yes even if that patient has trouble speaking or expressing themselves! Wouldn’t you want that? Oh, and also? Fucking let people sleep. I can’t stress enough how fucking annoying it is to finally fall asleep in spite of pain or discomfort to be wakened by a cheery loud voice seeking to take vital signs or worse – to ask if you’re sleeping. Hospitals are not helping with that shit. Good grief.

I’m cross on my dear friend’s behalf. I sip my tea, and think awhile. I breathe, exhale, relax, and then let that go. It’s evening now, and soon enough I’ll be getting packed to the trip home. My dear friend is in the care of family and friends who love her greatly. She is so very loved.

I sit quietly, listening to my tinnitus. My Traveling Partner and I exchange “stickers” back and forth in messages: kisses, hugs, hearts, fun little animated characters showing affection . It delights me, and I feel loved. I’m eager to be home, and back in his arms. Unexpectedly, I noticed how much pain I’m in. The weather turned rainy this morning, and my arthritis flared up. I’ve stay caught up on my Rx’s this entire detour from the routine, which is not always the case when my routine is broken. Health-wise, I’m feeling pretty good, generally, so the pain caught me a bit by surprise (though it isn’t truly surprising). I sit with that awareness for a moment thinking back over the day; did I take my pain meds? Those are not “on a schedule”, and keeping track is very important. I look in my pillbox. Huh. I find myself surprised to see that I hadn’t found it necessary to manage my pain earlier today, at all. I fix that, hoping I got to it early enough to avoid fucking with my sleep. It’s been a long day, filled with “emotional labor”. I’m tired, and it seems likely I’ll sleep just fine, particularly if I don’t let myself get spun up over “what if I don’t sleep?”. lol

I take a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. Actually? I’m already tired, it’s just too early to go to bed. I send more kisses to my Traveling Partner and pick up the book I’m reading… seems like a pleasant evening to read awhile, before calling it night. Tomorrow will be soon enough to begin again. 😀