Anniversaries

September 16, 2018 moon, with robin singing,
as captured from Dublin, Ireland, by Deirdre Horan.

I was captivated by this picture, which I found on yesterday's EarthSky News, and I decided I could use it in this post if I gave proper credit to the photographer. The juxtaposition of the robin singing its little heart out, with the quarter moon in the background, is very special.

Every year when September 17 rolls around, it gives me a little jolt of remembrance. That was the day, 53 years ago, that my son Stephen died suddenly of spinal meningitis. He got sick in the afternoon and died that very night. I suppose that's one reason why it took me so long to recover from that terrible event, but it's never easy to lose a child, at any age. Since he was an infant, just over a year old, he was more than part of my daily life: he and I were together from the time he awoke until he went to bed.

It took a long, long time for me to be in the presence of a baby again. For more than a decade I would look away to try to keep the pain at bay. Then one day, without my noticing when exactly, I found myself looking at the sweet little chubby legs of a baby, and... the pain didn't come up. They say that time heals all wounds, and maybe it's true, but sometimes the scars left behind are debilitating.

Somebody asked me yesterday if I had any kids, and I was forced to relay the sad news that yes, indeed I did, but neither one of them is still living. When someone asks, I can feel the hesitation about having to tell the tale, but my sons were both wonderful people and I will never forget (or forsake) them as long as I'm alive.

:-(

Finding my way forward

Romanesco broccoli

Isn't this a beautiful plant? It's a fairly new (at least to me) cross between cauliflower and broccoli, called Romanesco broccoli and looks like a fractal to me. That link from Wikipedia tells me this:

The pattern is only an approximate fractal since the pattern eventually terminates when the feature size becomes sufficiently small. The number of spirals on the head of Romanesco broccoli is a Fibonacci number.

I find that to be incredibly interesting, and since I've actually eaten this plant, I can also tell you that it tastes a little more like cauliflower to me than broccoli. I took this picture last Saturday at the Farmers' Market. Since I tried to grow this plant during our springtime warmth, I was sure impressed with these guys. Mine almost immediately bolted, and I've since learned that it doesn't like a lot of heat and direct sunlight, so farmers around here grow it in the fall.

A week has passed since the election, and I'm feeling less fragile, but still can find myself weeping at unexpected times. It's part of the grieving process, and I'm pretty good at learning how to cope on a daily basis. I have decided not to allow myself to be bitter. Maya Angelou said this:

You should be angry. You must not be bitter. Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. It doesn’t do anything to the object of its displeasure. So use that anger. You write it. You paint it. You dance it. You march it. You vote it. You do everything about it. You talk it. Never stop talking it.

So I'm talking to you right now. I've decided to start giving a monthly allowance to two deserving organizations that I hope will help to mitigate the denial of climate change, which is a real threat to our world stability. Although I'm old enough that I won't see the worst of it, I fear for the young ones.

And I'm wearing a safety pin on my clothes. I read in another blogger's post about the first effect she experienced of wearing her safety pin. She is an elementary school teacher, and one of her students asked her about it. She said that it is to let people know that they can talk to her about anything and feel safe. The child said to her, shyly, "I didn't want anybody to know, but I haven't eaten anything since yesterday, and I have no money." The teacher suddenly realized why this student had been struggling in class, and she immediately took him into the cafeteria and bought him lunch. She also arranged to get him into the program for disadvantaged kids. Maybe he's homeless, I don't know, but that safety pin gave him a chance to talk about his hunger.

But it's just a tiny little symbol that means little in the scheme of things. Actually giving money to those organizations made me feel a whole lot better!
:-)

Bits and pieces of my day

Top o' the mornin' to ya (snagged from Facebook)

Yes, we are getting close to St. Paddy's Day, on Monday. Today when the walking group all met in front of Boundary Bay Brewery, I could see that festivities were already getting started, with green beer being served already! There was a five-mile walk just beginning where we met, and everybody was dressed in green. I also learned that around noon there would be a parade. Tammy Bennett, who is the lovely lady on the right, is the Parade Marshall every year (and the Fitness Director at my local YMCA).

Pussy willows for sale at the market

This is also the last Winter Market Day, with the regular Farmers' Market starting up next month. It isn't a warm or especially nice day today, but since it wasn't raining while we walked, all the ladies were happy to get in our six miles before having our usual coffee.

On another, sadder note, I came home and perused the news while having my lunch, since I'm a little bit obsessed over this whole Malaysian Airline mystery. It now seems it was a deliberate act, and I have surmised that the passengers are probably all gone, one way or another. Some have said on the news that if they ascended to 45,000 feet and then depressurized the cabin, everyone would have died quickly. And then what? It's the biggest mystery I've ever puzzled over, for a whole week now. I just hope there is some resolution soon for the families, who must have been going through absolute hell this past week.
:-(

I miss my sisters

Norma Jean and me in Florida

It seems ages ago right now that we were together, but it was only a few weeks ago this picture was taken. I talked with Norma Jean on video chat just last week, but it really does seem like the events of the past month have receded quickly into the past. I downloaded some pictures from my camera, and I realized that the ones I took of the five of us together after PJ's memorial were forgotten in there. I spent some time editing and organizing them, gazing longingly at my siblings, wishing we were back together.

Was it just a little more than a week ago that I traveled home? Catching a cold and recovering from it took some time and energy, of course, but it just doesn't seem possible that PJ died this month, but yes, we are still in February. And all that has transpired since then.

Markee and Fia in Texas

I miss my other two sisters as well. Markee lives in Canada, and she's returned to her own life and job, while Fia has gone back to work at her job in a doctor's office in Fort Worth. They are very close to one another, too, and although twenty years separates me from Fia, we will always be connected by the threads of family. Now that one of us has gone, it feels poignant every time I think of our loss. Since PJ was not a part of my everyday life, I sometimes forget how drastically my family circle has changed.

My brother Buz and his wife Phyllis are on my mind, too; when I travel to the area I always enjoy staying with them and soaking up some of their good vibes. Although we are living in different parts of the country, I expect everything to stay just the same as it was when I was last with them, but that's not how life goes. So I'll continue to cherish my memories and hope we can get together again soon for something really positive.

By the way, about my last post: I have not found another person yet who normally clasps their hands together with the right thumb on top like I do. The link I found stated it should be 60-40. Are you an anomaly like me? Just wondering.
:-)

Lighting candles

Lighting candles for my departed beloveds

When I was in Macedonia in 2009, I visited a couple of churches, it being Orthodox Easter and all, and I lighted candles for my beloved children and parents, gone from my life for a long time. My grief for those lost children in Connecticut goes beyond what I would have expected, but it must be partly caused by the stirrings of memories of how difficult it was to get through those first few hours, days and weeks.

I was only 22 when my son Stephen died of spinal meningitis. It was inconceivable to me back then that some day I would not only recover, but that I would be grateful for those thirteen months he was with me. And when my son Chris died at the age of 40, I was almost sixty and had a much easier time of it. Not easy, just easier. And now I think of those parents and grandparents of these lost children and wish there were words that could ease the pain. There are no words.

How many mornings I would wake thinking that I had just awakened from a bad dream, only to find that the bad dream did not dissipate with the dawn. I had to go through every single hour and day with only my broken heart and the daily act of living to get me through. But even though when you are in severe pain the thought that it will get better is no relief at all, it is true: time softens and changes the loss until you can smile and laugh again.

And then something like this makes me wake in the night, crying and feeling the breaks in my heart as if they happened yesterday. It did happen yesterday... didn't it? Crying again... but I do know I will recover, and I wish I could tell those parents and grandparents that although they will be permanently changed by this loss, they will find joy in life again some day.
:-(

Violated

This morning bright and early I went for my early morning walk with the Fairhaven walking group. It was blustery and rainy at Lake Padden, but this is what I found when I returned to my car: a shattered passenger side window and the pillow that covered my purse/pack on the floor moved aside and my valuables were just gone. Inside was my wallet with credit cards, debit card, checks, and driver's license, along with sundry other things I hope I have remembered.

They also stole my iPad2 and camera, both of which I carry with me almost always. It hurts like the dickens, but the hardest part is the feeling of violation. Feeling that they are looking at my entire life story, with my home address on my license, all my cards simply... gone. Everything that tells people who I am is gone. By the time I had canceled my debit and credit cards, the thieves had gotten six separate charges on them, three on each. They filled up their car with gas, to start, then went off to buy groceries ($80), bop over to Rite Aid ($190), and a quick stop at Starbucks ($180). Figure they got gift cards or something to rack up that amount. A stop at several stores with the credit card, totaling another $350, and by the time they got to Macy's, the nice something they tried to buy for themselves for $518 was denied. I will not have to pay any of the charges, but the crying, the helpless feeling (have I remembered everything?) have not gone completely away yet. It's been six hours since I discovered it.

Having two direct deposits and having to close my checking account... all this pain will continue for weeks, if not months. I also had a key to my car in my wallet, and they know my address. Some nice neighbors have allowed me to park my car in their driveway, with their cars behind and beside mine, so that until the window can be fixed, nobody can take it. I'll get one of those bars you can place on your steering wheel, I guess, so that nobody can drive it away once it's fixed.

And it's Christmas Eve. I am determined to have a good holiday, because I just don't want them to have the satisfaction of destroying me, too. I remember long ago when my mother was robbed, heavy silver and furs all gone, she never got over it. Well, I can replace everything, and I still have a choice to make about how I deal with this misfortune.

The police tell me that this is a common occurrence at Lake Padden. It's shady and the thieves sit in cars with tinted windows, waiting to see you show up and go for a nice walk around the 2.6-mile lake. You won't be back soon. When nobody is coming, they strike quickly. They must have figured that the pillow covered something they wanted. Nothing else was touched.

I have my little camera that I used before I bought my latest one with a zoom, and I still have my iPod, which I'll use. Fortunately Smart Guy wouldn't let me put any critical passwords into my iPad, but they have my email address and are probably going through my pictures and looking for whatever they can find to use before wiping the iPad clean and selling it. This is not helping. Positive thoughts, positive thoughts...
:-(

Taking the next step

I just finished reading and commenting on a few of my favorite blog sites that are talking about dealing with pain, illness, stress, operations, and just recovering from grief. Yesterday my Life Partner sent me this picture, which I think he pulled off reddit or some similar place. It has continued to make me smile, every time I look at it, so I am offering it to all of you as a possible next step to take. I know I can find a waterfall somewhere, but I'll have a little difficulty blowing water out my snout, so I might skip that step.

Sometimes I think it's just fun to slip my consciousness into the skin of another creature and imagine what it would be like to be filled with joy and smiles like this beautiful elephant. If it is true that our state of mind is up to us, well then, can I choose this?

Yesterday I went to see the new movie Contagion. It was good, but it wasn't great. I didn't spend any time thinking about it after I left the theater, other than noticing all the times I touch public places that have been touched by others (like doorknobs) and thinking about how many times I bring my hands to my face without thinking. With the stellar cast of this movie, I expected more, so perhaps it was my preconceived notion that kept me from enjoying it more.

The weather has turned from unremitting sunshine to cloudy skies for the past two days. Tomorrow's hike is going to be cloudy and maybe even have some rain. But I'll be having a good time and looking forward to bringing it here to share. Until then, see if you can find some rainbows!
:-)

Signs and portents

Tonight and early tomorrow morning there will be a lunar eclipse that should be visible from everywhere in North America with clear skies. That will probably NOT be here in Washington state, but you never know. It is also happening on the same day as the winter solstice. That juxtaposition has not happened for 372 years! The eclipse will begin around 2:00 am on the East Coast and 11:00 pm here on the West Coast.

This is a picture showing last year's partial eclipse. The pictures that should arise from tonight's total eclipse should be even more amazing. The winter solstice occurs tomorrow at 3:38 pm PDT. By that time I will have arrived in Denver to attend a gathering of friends of Emily Berkeley, who died Sunday morning in a parachuting accident. An article in the local Boulder paper about the incident appears here. I really don't feel like going through all the details again, but if you're interested and the article doesn't have enough information, I wrote a post on my other blog saying goodbye to dear Emily.

It's interesting how my psyche has been handling this loss. When I first heard on Saturday evening about her having been hurt, I couldn't sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of her, not knowing how bad it was. By the time I woke on Sunday morning and learned that she was gone, I felt totally shattered but unsure of when I might be going to Denver. Then when I learned of a memorial for her on Thursday and got tickets to fly there, it hit me hard. Somehow the reality of what has happened opened another centimeter and I felt the grief hit a little harder. Then it began to raise the specter of other times I have been in this psychic space, and ancient but familiar feelings emerged.

Emily and Kiwi, Dec 2010

For me, I know that this is a transitional phase, that it will change once I am able to be with like-minded friends who are also mourning her loss, and then, imperceptibly, the huge gaping hole in my personal Universe will begin to fill with day-to-day commonplace routine. And one day I will realize that a whole day will have passed without thinking of her.

I look forward to that day, but for now, I am still feeling around inside at the size of the hole. Tears have fallen several times and today they feel liberating. Tomorrow I will be able to see my friends who love her too and we can cry together. That's something to look forward to.