Winds of Change

The fury of the winds upon my roof was relentless. It blew and blew for the last few days. Mostly I stayed in bed to keep warm. I wouldn't say I am proud of the fact, but I am happy for myself that I had the chance. I'm making tamales today. The masa has saffron that a friend of mine brought back for me from Turkey. I have so many things to do it's difficult to know where to start. I'm probably going to close up the house and move on to a different life than I have known. It's strange to be letting go of everything I have struggled to accumulate. Honestly, I question the benefit of collecting so many objects. Relinquishing them is proving more difficult than I had anticipated.

A Light Supper

When the Unwanted Guest arrives...
I might be afraid.
I might smile or say:
My day was good, let night fall.
You well find the fields ploughed, the house clean,
the table set,

and everything in its place.

 

--Manuel Bandeira

 

We move into another winter and it's cold outside.

What will 2014 bring? It's been a short while since

we moved into the 21st century. Numbers

like 2013 and 2014 are strange to me. It seems

like just yesterday it was 1981. There were still

many years left to the 20th century. Today it's

cold and the next century spreads out like

a blank canvas. Let me pick up the brush.

 

Autumn Circle

All the things which come with Autumn represent change. The leaves change colors and then drop. The mornings get crisper and nights are clearer. It's been one year since my love died and my heart remembers parts of my life that my mind cannot. My love and I began in the Autumn more than thirty years ago, and my life feels like a giant circle which has led me back to exactly where I began. Having returned to the beginning, I cannot help but notice that everything has changed. So many Autumns have come and gone in that time and it is a different world than when my love first stole a kiss from me. An incredible life was set in motion with just a kiss.  Now, as that life runs its course, I am left in this moment. Today there is online-dating, lap band surgery, Obama care, war, cell phones, Facebook, really expensive gas, nano technology, and the list goes on and on. The world that my love and I knew, once upon a time, is gone. Autumn is difficult because you really become aware of change. You can't pretend that everything is the same. I'm like an astronaut in my own life on an unknown planet. I pray for friendly alien life forms to greet me not knowing who or what awaits. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers.  

Mongoose Days

I read "Rikki Tikki Tavi" with my students. He is a very brave mongoose that Rudyard Kipling created. He kills the cobras. I was thinking about the story from the perspective of the cobras, and it comes out very differently. They were just trying to protect their babies. Funny how life has two sides. I have a hard time seeing two sides of the events in Syria, but maybe it's not so unlike the mongoose and the cobras. They each want to protect what is theirs. I speak to my love each day because his picture is on my desk. He was a really fierce mongoose himself. Yet, he could be as gentle and playful as Rikki Tikki. It's hot here and the weather tires me out. I can't complain because it's nothing like Colorado. Those floods just washed away the life that so many people knew. In the beginning of "Rikki Tikki" it's a flood that washes Rikki away from his parents and his old life into his knew life and his adulthood. He learned well from his childhood/mongoose youth, and he carries his knowledge with him with no chance to go back. I guess that's how life is. Sometimes we get washed out of the past and we go on.

Faith and Clouds

I learned so much today. On the radio they were telling about a treatment that had my love had it, it might have saved him. I got angry, but I remembered what my love always said, "When death comes, even the doctors are silenced." So it was that he left. Then of course, the saddest song came on the radio so I could hardly drive. It's been raining out here in the desert, and I am getting use to all the water (from the sky and my eyes). The clouds have really been amazing. I keep looking up and wondering if the image of the clouds as heaven is just an illusion. Then I wonder if my love can see me or look down upon me. The idea of weather makes me think not. I'm sure it doesn't matter, but I still question and wonder. I wish I could just have faith. My dogs are barking at something they see or hear but I don't. So, I'm off to speak with them and I don't even know if they understand.

Strange Dreams & Strange Music

Last night I had the strangest dream (I know that's a line from too many dreams). In my dream, I understood exactly how to prepare to die and go to the next life. I was explaining to someone this epiphany, but as I began to explain, the understanding left me. The explanation of how one can accept mortality and prepare to leave this life we know involved a deep love of God. There was more to it than that, but I could not hold onto the understanding when I went to explain it. What a shame. It's funny that I am struggling with this problem in my dreams. Many of my friends have died over the years, but I never thought too much about the fear of death or my own fears. I'm sitting hear listening to Tom Waits and it's about 2:00 a.m. I can't sleep anymore and the song he is singing is called "Starving in the Belly of a Whale." Well! Death has certainly swallowed me up at this moment. The sun will come up soon and that whale will surely spit me out. I'm going to change the music right now.

Dia de Los Muertos & the Voice of My Love

I've been canning grape jelly and grape tomatoes this week. What a job! I'm trying to teach myself how to do it correctly. It is a bit difficult, but I'm learning. I don't know what to do with all the jars of jelly, jam and misc. I was cleaning up my hard drive and I came across a video my love and I made just a short while back before he became so ill. I can hear his voice saying things about humming birds and the land. He is speaking to me and I just love to hear his voice. I did not know I had such a precious gift. It really was a gift from the Universe this week. I thought I would never hear his voice again, but that is not so. The video reminds me of what a gentle and sweet man he was to me. I miss him this week. I found a really neat video that you can watch for free. It's about the Day of the Dead. This is a Mexican celebration that kind of laughs at death in order not to cry. The short film is animated and a little girl who has lost her mom is taken to the land of the dead for a short while to learn what Dia De Los Muertos is really about. You will love it. Actually it will be the most beautiful 3 minutes you will know for sometime. Just copy this in our url and you will be there.

http://vimeo.com/71853142

i know a path

 "i know a path in your heart that merges with mine, my sweetheart and i know of a tranquil sea, within me, that mirrors your moon face with delight."   Rumi

Funeral for a Friend

Once, long ago, my love and I attended a memorial service for an acquaintance of ours. It was like no other ceremony to which I have ever been. There was music and poetry and you knew that a man was gone, but the good things he had done lived on in the people in the room. Actually it wasn't a room but an outdoor dome fashioned from bricks where people sat on beautiful Persian carpets. The sunlight streamed into the dome from the places without bricks. When the people sang or recited Rumi, the sound was amplified. Many people filled that dome to honor a Persian man out in the desert who had been a poet and engineer and other things too. His wife was there. His son was there. It is easy to remember how lovely and sad that day was. My thoughts at that precise moment were somehow that service, that moment of death and peace, would never come again. I wanted to steal the memory so one day when I faced incredible grief, I would remember the feeling of death and peace together. In the future, I figured, no matter how bad I would feel, I'd envision that day, that service and I do.  I remember the instruments that the musicians played that afternoon. There was a drum that had little pieces of metal hanging from the rim which made a rhythmic drumming sound. I think it was called a tambor. Of course nobody tells us about love the way Rumi does. Love was there that day with Rumi seemingly in all things. The engineer was released from the earth with music and poetry. I hope that is the way people will celebrate my life one day. A moment like that is the magical culmination of every moment that came before it. Celebrating life is maybe all we can do or all we should do. We can share that together and we did. My love and I together will always be in that dome with love and music and Rumi forever. I can picture us with the enginer who built domes in the desert sitting on the carpets and reciting about love.

Don Quixote and My Chivalrous Man

When my love died, I gave away many of my books. I could not bear to see them anymore. I understand now how foolish this was, but at the time, in my anger, I did this stupid thing. One of the beautiful and very old books I gave away was Don Quixote de la Mancha by Miguel de Cervantez. I can remember watching Raul Julia in Man of La Mancha in Orange County in the early 90's. That was such a wonderful show. I was much younger then and I could only see Don Quixote's great love Dulcinea as this really mean woman. I could only see she was always angry with Don Quixote. What I didn't understand then was that Don Quixote was living out the code of chivalry. At that time, I had never taught the story of King Arthur, so I had no idea about chivalry. More importantly, I did not understand the impact that the character of Don Quixote has on Dulcinea (Aldonza).  Lucky for me today I bought an old VHS of Don Quixote with Peter O'Toole and Sophia Loren. I saw the story from a very different perspective.  Much older now and having lived a great deal more, I can see what Don Quixote does for her not only by his love, but by his seeing her as she should have been (had her life's path been different) and not as she was. This is surely what my love did for me. He chose me and made me feel as if I was worthy of great love. From my experience, this is rare. At the end of the story, after Don Quixote dies, Aldonza calls herself Dulcinea. She feels different about herself. This is true for me, as well. I go on and I hold my head up high.  

Waitresses from Heaven and Free Coffee

When I was young, I was a waitress. I was a waitress for many years. I remember all the people who came and went from my life and there were many. One couple who ate at the diner each week were really old (as I saw it) and really in love. Bill would help his wife out of the car and into the diner. They would always eat the same thing--cheese blintzes. I never thought much about the wig that Bill's wife wore on her head other than it wasn't very becoming. Then one day, after several years of seeing the two of them together, Bill came alone to the diner. He ordered the same food, but he had tears in his eyes. When he told me about his wife, water came from his nose and his mouth and his eyes. It was as if his soul was just washing out of his body. I was pretty young and I could see that he was lost and destroyed. I hadn't experienced such loss myself at that time so even though I was mortified, I could not ultimately connect. I still have a picture of myself sitting with Bill in the booth at the diner. This picture was probably taken at Christmas or Easter not so long after Bill's wife died. We are both smiling but Bill looks really frail and it won't be too long after that picture that Bill will stop eating blintzes (which he loved) and stop coming to the diner. You never know what an impact you have on people and how people you hardly know become your family. Yesterday, at the diner where I go sometimes for breakfast,I had my usual. the diner is really a bar but they have a great breakfast special that is really cheap. I watch the people drink beer up at the bar at 8:00 a.m. I eat my fabulous breakfast with potato pancakes and eggs. The waitress is always so nice and she's just this kind human who doesn't give me a hard time when I walk out while the juke box plays sad love songs. She's just like I was when I was a waitress way back when. Yesterday, I told her I was celebrating not having cancer. She bought my coffee. Life is good and life goes on.

The Art of Dying and the Art of Intelligent Living

I was listening to a lecture on the art of dying. This lecture was given by a gentleman named Atulanand Ji. It was a little bit difficult to agree with, but he said that when we dream, we don't have desire. I told you about that dream when my love came back to me and told me he would only stay three days. I remember feeling that I wanted more time, but I was happy for three days. Never in my life have I experienced such desire. Still this gentleman went into great discussion about irrational fears and a distinct drop in intelligence. Yesterday, out of my irrational fear of getting cancer, I suspect I had a distinct drop in intelligence. Just because I have to have some uncomfortable testing tomorrow doesn't mean I'm going to die, and even if I do get that cancer it won't mean I'm going to die. Although, someday I will. It's just probably not going to be in the immediate future. I love this blog and I'm not going to stop after all. I love my brother, the one who communicates with me, for calling me and telling me he loves me. Again, I am not alone. I love my best friend for taking me to the hospital tomorrow. I love my love for teaching me that the richest man cannot buy health.

Ask not for whom the phone rings...

I wasn't going to blog anymore. I was going to close this chapter of my life and move on. Big words! I'm not sure if that is really going to be the case. I promise myself that whatever comes from this moment forward, I will accept with grace. I won't try to fight or control or whatever. I'm waiting for a call from my doctor. Isn't that funny. I somehow thought my health wasn't really in question, but maybe that's not true and maybe I'm going to go through some other journey. I can't say at this moment. If the news is good, I won't even publish this entry. If it's not so good, I will. My stomach hurts and I can't stop thinking that maybe my love went away for a reason. I know it sounds stupid, but I always knew he went first so he would be there for me when I go on to another life. Some of my friends this week told me they don't believe in the after-life and that my belief is because I need to believe in it. Well, it's times like these you don't want your faith to waiver too much. I can tell you right now that even in my fear, I do believe in the after-life, and I so want to believe that I will be with my love again. I think I'd like to see my mom again too. Funny when you are really scared you want your mom. Once when my mom thought I had eaten a poisonous plant she put her finger right down my throat in a flash. Yuck! It wasn't poisonous, but I never ate plants again (just sometimes from the grocery store). I knew she cared about my life. I cared about her life and when she died, I missed it by only a few minutes. I woke up in the middle of the night and was on my way to see her when she died. I was always sad that I wasn't with her at the end. Death really sucks. I'm so mad right now and I can't say if I have the energy to go through any big thing right now. I'm kind of thinking that being with my love would be so preferable to anything I'm doing right now with my life. I get it that it's not going to be my choice. Still, I guess you could say I can't lose (unless there is no afterlife) because if I stay it's good and if I go it's good. That's my belief for this moment. Who knows how I will feel after this phone call.

Closing the Book on the Past

The book I created about my love came in the mail today. It had several surprises in it which I did not even realize while I was creating it. Our favorite restaurant, the one with the warm fireplace and the French bistro look, was the backdrop for one of the photos. I hadn't even noticed that. There is a beautiful landscape of the beach where we first met. I had not intentionally put that in the book. Strangely, most of the pictures are from the final years of our life together and not the beginning. Maybe this is partly due to the fact that when we started together so many years ago, there were film cameras and digital had not come in yet. Oh, how the world has changed. It's funny that the pictures I chose are not the best photos of us. As a matter of fact, they are mostly the really ordinary ones where we look so comfortable together. My love would have said he looked like a farmer, and I never realized how many plaid shirts he owned (I'm crying and laughing at this moment). When I received the book, I couldn't stop looking at it. I read it over and over and stared at the photos as if I had never seen them before. I added some stickers in the back of the book which show what kind of world into which we both were born. They were very different times and I can see that the world my love was born into was much more difficult than mine. His birth year includes the arrest of many famous criminals like Bonnie and Clyde, the dust bowl and Hitler becoming Fuhrer. My year has John Glenn's orbit of the earth, Jackie Kennedy's tour of the White House for television viewers, Marilyn Monroe's death and the Cuban missile crisis.  I know it's getting time to close the book on the past to some degree. It's not that I won't continue to grieve. It's just that I need some right-of-passage out of this dark journey. I'm ready to step out into the light of day and try to remember all the good things and let go of the sadness. The world I'm being born into today is, to borrow another quote, the best of times and the worst of times. So be it. I miss my love and I go on in peace. Take care. I will too.

Return to Sender or My Love

This morning I was continuing to go through papers and let go of whatever I can let go of. I found a valentine that I gave my love with Snow White singing "...someday my prince will come..." The music doesn't play anymore but the writing is still there. Then I found a valentine from my love. When I opened it, the music didn't play either. I was a little sad that I couldn't have a song, but then as if by magic it started to sing to me, "I feel good. Knew that I would now. I've got you!" Now that was a message from beyond that made me feel connected. I needed that today.
I've been waiting for that beautiful book that I created to arrive. It's kind of the final chapter in my life with my love. I added quotes from Rumi, Virgil and Hafez. On the back cover there is a picture of the most beautiful cloud that my love photographed. He had an eye for beauty. So, I've been waiting and I had guaranteed delivery by today. The mailman came and went. My disappointment grew. Finally started to track the shipping and the book had actually traveled to many of the places that my love and I had really enjoyed visiting. I cannot account for that since my address is really out of the direction of these places. The book finally ended up in Florida as undeliverable. Florida! Now my love has several connections to Florida and we visited there shortly before the huge hurricane that nailed Fort Myers a few years back. I just have to believe that my love is hanging out with the gators in some swamp down in Florida reading his book. Enjoy.

Son of a Great Man, Brother of a Great Woman

When my love was a little boy he would walk down the street and people would recognize him and come up to him and say, "Your father was a great man." They knew that my love had lost both his father and his mother at a very young age, but they also knew just how kind and generous his father had been. The father of my love would literally give you the coat off his back, and he did this once during the winter. He would deliver coal to families he knew were poor and without. He was a great man and when people would see the beautiful sad face of my love, they would remember just how great his father was. My love had a sister who was only a little older than he was. As a girl without parents, she would have the lessor opportunities of two children with very few opportunities. But children of great men seem sometimes destined to create opportunities where there are none. My love's sister would quickly be married off after the death of her father. She would be expected to raise her little brother as her son. In the house of her in laws, she would know hunger and great frustration. Even though her own life would not turn out as her own father might have wanted and surely not as her mother might have wanted, over the course of years, her great love for her little brother would work miracles. It was her love her that would spread across several continents through her little brother to others.  She would do without to give her little brother an education and a future. Her brother loved her so and came to see that without her, he would have had nothing. He was lucky to be the son of a great man and the brother of a great woman. There life was not built on sand but the indestructible stone created by love and suffering and loss.

Heaven is where True Love Goes

The moment you walked inside my door, I knew that I need not look no more
I've seen many other souls before-oh but, Heaven must've programmed you
The moment you fell inside my dreams, I realised all I hadn't seen
I've seen many other souls before oh but, Heaven must've programmed you
Oh, will you? Will you? Will you?
I go where True Love goes, I go where True Love goes
                                                                          --Yusuf Islam" Heaven/Where True Love Goes"

Long before I could understand that my love was going to die, I heard this song and it made me weep. It made me weep because I had such a strong love, and I could hear the truth in these words. Now that my love is gone from me, I think of God so much. When I hear this song my feeling is that my love and God are one--connected. I cannot even imagine one without the other. It seems that I misunderstood about God completely. Imagining death does seem more peaceful this way.

Modesty and Medicine

Today I must go to the doctor. It's a regular check up with my doctor who takes care of my women's issues (it's a doctor whose type of medicine begins with the letter "g". I know I should be able to say that word, but it's embarrassing. He is also an oncologist because I had a little trouble with an illness that begins with the letter "c". The big "C". That word you won't mind if I don't use because in most cultures it is taboo to say the word. Anyway, I'm OK now and I just have to check in with the doctor to make sure nothing has come back. When I first got my doctor, I did not know anything about him other than he is a man. A man! I really tried to get a woman doctor, but that was not possible, and I really tried. It's not that I don't respect men doctors, but the thought of a man woman's doctor was difficult to accept. When I first met him, I couldn't believe what I saw. Of course I had hoped that he would be an ancient ugly frog that I could pretend I did not notice, but that was not to be. My love took me to the appointment and even went in with me for the first consultation. I suspect God works in mysterious ways. These days I think my doctor is beautiful because he saves lives and he probably saved mine, but when I first met him I was dumbstruck that not only was he very young and very handsome, but he was from the same country of origin as my love. The country they both come from is not one where women generally have men as their doctors. How could this be? It was so embarrassing. Luckily my doctor and my love hit it off and the doctor understood that it was my love who needed the reassurance more than I. Luckily my doctor has a loving heart. I always feel sorry for my doctor because his job must be really uncomfortable and I suspect his reward will only come in heaven. My love will be there to meet him one day. When my love was very young, his own mother refused to go to a man doctor and this for her was a very bad decision. Had she gone, she might still be alive today (although very old). I know for myself, had I not gone to the man doctor, I would not be here either. For today, I am grateful to be here and very grateful to have a doctor.

The Last Supper

I remember the last meal I fed to my love before he went to the hospital for the last time and would taste food no more. I gave him grape leaves and hummus. He only ate a little, but those were dishes he always loved. I tried so hard to give him any food he would enjoy, but towards the end, food was not so important to him. We spent our life together cooking and eating and while this was not especially healthy, it was fun. I even studied Greek cooking for three years so I could make him the best food.
Imagine for a moment that it was your last meal. What would you want it to be? I think for me it would have to be cheese blintzes. I was a waitress for a very long time, and blintzes covered in strawberry jam were my favorite thing to eat. My love always wanted eggplant cooked in a variety of ways with tomatoes or yogurt or garlic. In a book called The Meaning of Food, a man named Brian Price, who had been in prison for several years, tells about how he would cook the meals for the men who were sentenced to death. The condemned men could choose what they wanted to eat and he would fix it for them. Sometimes the prison wouldn't have the exact ingredient like fish or whatever and he would try to take something else and make it as close as possible to what the condemned prisoner wanted. Most other prisoners did not want to fix this last meal for the condemned but Mr. Price came to believe that his cooking made a difference and that he could give these men a little peace before their last moment on earth came. I guess you could say we are all condemned to some degree. It's just that these men know the hour they will complete their lives. The rest of us don't. I do remember that in all my grief, food had no real attraction for me. Hunger and grief just don't go together. "What if that was your son or your brother? Would you be so ready to see him put to death like a dog? Or would you rather seem him get a good last meal?" This is the question Mr. Price asks of all of us. Peace--this is what I set out to find when I started the blog. Peace is what I am still searching for and just beginning to find. Mr. Price is a good man for believing that everybody deserves this even if just a little.

Babett's Feast and Difficult Times

Difficult times have helped me to understand better than before how infinitely rich and beautiful life is in every way and that so many things that one goes worrying about are of no importance whatsoever. --Isak Dinesen

I like this quote from Isak Dinesen and it really rings true for me--now. Long, long ago, I remember watching a film called Babette's Feast. The story was written by Isak Dinesen and essentially it's about a really great food party. I love to cook. It's my absolute passion. In the movie, this wonderful woman who cooks so well has to live outside her own country in a country which is so cold and so without all the ingredients of life that she knew before the war. When she finally gets a little bit of money she doesn't spend it on herself but spends it on a really amazing party for the people she has been surrounded by during her exile in Scandinavia. When my love was just a very young child, his family would run out of food at the end of the month. To keep from starving, they would collect bottles and have just enough to buy potatoes. They would generally live off potatoes at the end of each month. Over the years of gazing at my beautiful love, I could see the physical damage such hunger caused upon his body. Of course hunger never damaged his view of the the world's beauty. If anything, it was in contrast to the real pain of his life that he was able to see beauty in things which I could not. Oh yes, and he loved food too.
 I am somewhat familiar with Scandinavian food as my two sisters married Norwegians. With several years of practice, I have become somewhat skilled at making lefsa, Norwegian potato bread. My love took me to Sweden several years back and I literally ate my way through that country. Smorgasbords, yes! In the United states, our understanding of Scandinavian foods generally consists of smorgasbords. Few of us know anything about the starvation that Finns and Swedes have faced in history. Not to mention, more people still have no idea how one produces Lutefisk. I know how it is made, but I have very rarely eaten it. When I think about Babett's Feast and the French character of Babette, I have to say that my love lived his life this way. In essence, he lived in exile in this country, although, his name appeared on no black lists and he returned to his homeland many times. He really took  whatever God gave him and he threw a party which was his life. His life was infinitely rich and beautiful and mine was too for knowing him. The next time I have something which seems really troubling to me, I am going to throw a party.

Raindrops and Condolences

Raindrops keep falling on my head
But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red
Crying's not for me
Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'
Because I'm free
Nothing's worrying me   --BJ Thomas

I remember as a very young girl, long before I met my love, my oldest brother took me to see the movie "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid." Paul Newman and Robert Redford played in it. I of course fell in love with the character the Sundance Kid, played by Robert Redford. He was the "bad boy" and of course in the path of my life, this is the type of man to which I was always attracted. It was the character of Butch Cassidy played by Paul Newman that was the "good guy" and of course the sweetest and most empathetic character. Somehow, at that really impressionable age of eight, I got the idea that my older brother was the embodiment of Butch Cassidy. He is a funny guy, my brother, and he can really tell a joke or be tough when he needs to. Still, he never approved of my love and my brother and I grew apart during the last 30 years. When my love died last year, my brother sent no condolences and never called. It pains me over and over. I should let it go. It shouldn't matter, but it does. My favorite part of the movie my brother took me to is when Butch and schoolteacher Etta Place (played by Katherine Ross) goof around on a bicycle. This was a sweet scene and possibly influenced me more than anything in becoming a school teacher (who can say?), but that's the image I have of my brother. Just a funny guy goofing around on a bicycle.  I really don't have to many other memories of him from my childhood. Hmm. That's it for me because..well, crying's not for me. I love that song.

Hafez & The Story of Us

Whenever the road my love and I faced together became puzzling or difficult, my love would take out a book called The Odes of Hafez. He had some incantation he would recite (which I can't exactly remember or translate) and open to a "ordained" page. This was always fun for us even in the face of some seemingly difficult situations. I will miss those times, but after today I will use a new book and open it to an "ordained" page whenever I need that understanding that my love and Hafez always gave me.
I keep getting lured deeper and deeper into the Internet and honestly I have learned so much. Is that because I no longer feel the same about my world as I did last year at this time? Maybe. It could be because the Internet gives me an interesting diversion from grieving (which I know is not necessarily a good thing). Yesterday, I spent the entire day working on this "new" book which is about my life with my love. I imported every decent picture I could get my hands on from old photo cd's I had not looked at in years. I chose layouts and colors and wrote text to tell the story of us. Of course it made me cry, but I had to admit that my life has been filled with love and joy. I just love to look at the book. Since it is being published by Shutterfly (self publishing company) on the Internet, it will come in the mail in a week or two. The next volume of my life has begun. There is no stopping it.

I Have Learned So Much

by Hafez

I 

Have 

Learned 

So much from God 

That I can no longer 

Call 

Myself 

A Christian, a Hindu, a Muslim, 

a Buddhist, a Jew. 

The Truth has shared so much of Itself 

With me 

That I can no longer call myself 

A man, a woman, an angel, 

Or even a pure 

Soul. 

Love has 

Befriended Hafiz so completely

It has turned to ash 

And freed 

Me 

Of every concept and image 

my mind has ever known.

From: 'The Gift'  

Translated by Daniel Ladinsky

Who Would Ever Want to Be King?

I've been making jam all morning. First I made peach and then blackberry. It all came out pretty well. I love to make jam although I need a great deal more practice. Still, it's nice to feel like you create something out of nothing. I've actually started doing a great deal. I took many classes in computers and technology in the last week or two. I started an ebay business to sell cookbooks (Yes, I collect cookbooks). I've started getting ready to go back to work. I know my love died in November, but is truly amazing how long it takes to get back to a semblense of your old self. I think I may have been much too judgemental of others in the past who I somehow mistakenly thought were taking too long to grieve (foolish me!) and now I know better. The song below is one that has fasinated me for some time. I use to listen to it and think that my day would come. I knew that for so long I had lived like a king. I felt that I did rule the world. Once my love was gone, it was as if I had to sweep the streets I once owned. I regret many mistakes I've made in my life. I woudn't change my love for anyone in the world past or present. I would, however, build my castles on more than just sand. Hopefully, if I build anything in the future, I will remember this.

Viva La Vida

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own
I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing "Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"
One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand
I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
Once you go there was never Never an honest word
And that was when I ruled the world
It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become
Revolutionaries wait  For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king?
I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world
I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world--Lyrics by Cold Play
From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/viva-la-vida-lyrics-coldplay.html ]

The Opera Known as My Life

Isn't it funny about music? I'm sitting hear listening to Boz Skaggs (that's an oldie).  That song comes in my life before my love did. These days I can listen to songs I remember from before my love, but the ones that we shared together are so tough to hear. I can remember going with my love to listen to Luciano Pavoratti. What a voice! We sat way up in the nose bleed section, but his voice could carry to the stars. "Nessun Dorma" is a song that has always brought me to tears. I always thought the words meant something like if I cannot see your face I don't want to see any one's. I always felt this way about my love. Now, as I older and wiser, I know it means no one will sleep, and the story behind this opera is about a cold princess who does not want to marry (all those years of thinking it was something so romantic! It sounded romantic).
Years ago we went to hear Andrea Bocelli in the place where the story of Romeo and Juliet was set. Honestly, those star crossed lovers had nothing on my love and me. Looking back, they were just a younger version of us. The day of the concert we were to attend, the Pope held an audience in Rome and all the trains in Italy were running late. It was so close to the start of concert that I asked God to just let me hear Bocelli and forget about those really expensive seats. I remember frantically running and we got into the arena and they locked the gates after us. We couldn't get to our seats, but we could sit on the stone steps and listen to Verdi's Requiem and Andrea Bocelli. I told God I was so grateful he let me into the arena in Verona. What music filled that night!
Probably Bryan Adams best represents the soundtrack of our lives. That song "Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman?" is what made me love his music so much. I'm not listening to Bryan Adams yet but I hope that will change. It was from the move "Don Juan" and my love had too many things in common with Don Juan. Anyways, it's fun to remember all the music of our life together. I hope heaven is filled with music.

The Light of a Loaf of Bread

A traveler on the mystic path
is content with a loaf of bread;
By its light he may be turned
towards the Light of God.     Rumi

 

Today is Independence day where I live. So what am I fixing? I am fixing Italian American food. I am keenly aware of the contributions of the Italians to my country's development. Italian food is possibly the backbone of American success. I don't see how we could have developed without it. God bless all the Italians that came to this country for a better life. Pizza built this country (ask any kid in America since it's pretty much all they will eat). I can smell the yeast from the kitchen as my dough is warmly rising. I love the smell of yeast and baking bread. In the beginning years of my life with my love there was an Italian bakery just a few blocks away. This is where I discovered panettone, foccacia and ciabatta. These were truly a revelation for me because I grew up on strictly white bread. One of the only field trips my class ever took was to the Weber's bread factory. I knew then that there was something magical about yeast. By the time my love and I had a few years together, we traveled to Europe together. That's when I began to get to know Italy. It remains my favorite place in the entire world. By the time we returned for a second visit to Italy, to Florence, I was really hooked. I had a paperback copy of a Marcella Hazan cookbook and each morning I would walk many many blocks through Florence to prepare our food for the day. I still remember a plum cake I made that made me feel like a million dollars. We had a room with a view of the river Arno. What a life! I am so grateful for that time. More and more I am able to remember these things without sorrow.
This morning, I am baking foccacias for three different families. Some of the breads will have onions and others rosemary and olives. Don't get me started on olives! My olive garden memories are some of the most romantic memories I have. I seem to recall my love singing a funny song about bread and salt. It's a good day.

Time Travel Right Now!

I am watching what is going on in Egypt. Actually, I am talking to my sister in Washington and we both are watching a live cam of Tahrir Square while as we talk on the telephone and I blog to you. Wow! What a totally amazing thing to watch  and feel a part of--history for good or bad (I can't say). I don't know if what I see is what is really happening, but I am seeing laser lights, fireworks and cars honking. This world is amazing in many ways. Social media will touch every one's life too (I guess I should have seen that one coming too).

Egypt and Defying Death

I've been watching the news from Egypt lately. I'm not sure what will happen today. Will the military take over or will things continue the way they are? I read a book yesterday by Anne Rice (who by the way wrote Interview with the Vampire) called Pandora. Anyway, there were so many references to ancient Egypt and the Goddess Isis. How Isis is viewed in Pandora is pretty complicated. If I told you what I got, I could be really off the mark from that which the author intended. I knew instinctively, though, that Isis was in some ways a kindred spirit. What the book Pandora doesn't tell you is about the myth of Osiris and how he was murdered.This is a sad story of an unsuspecting victim and the devastated wife who searches for his body. I can surely relate to Isis in the depths of her grief for her husband Osiris.

 

Down through history, it is Plutarch (who I've actually had some occasion to read) who tells us  about the really extreme grief of Isis at the death of her dead husband. Plutarch, oh so many years ago, related the belief that the tears of Isis were thought to cause the annual flooding of the Nile. First it makes me think of a joke about "cry me a river," but after having cried now so many tears for so many months, for my lost love, the flooding of Egypt doesn't really amaze me at all.

 

Since before the time of Isis and Osiris, civilizations and all humans have had to make sense of death. Interestingly enough, the way that Isis' people, the Egyptians, and my people, the North Americans (U.S.) have dealt with death has been, historically, very different. I find the following two societal responses to death quite interesting and accurate:

 

"Death-defying--refusal to believe that death would take anything away and believe it could be overcome.  Example: early Egyptians who built pyramids for the Pharaoh which included their wives, money, and possessions for the world after death with the expectation that the Pharaoh could vanquish death."

 

"Death-denying--refusal to confront death, belief that death is antithetical to living and that it is not a natural part of human existence.  Example: United States, where there are few rituals associated with grieving. Rituals are generally replaced by contrivances for coping with grief."

From Rando, T. A. (1984). Grief, dying and death: Clinical interventions for caregivers (p. 5). Champaign, IL: Research Press. Copyright © 1984 by the author. Adapted with permission.

 

Blogging--contrivance or ritual? It is a lack of helpful rituals for my grief which in fact led me to this blog.

 

My sister is planning a trip to Egypt and Pompeii (where the Temple of Isis is found) in the very near future. Today, like so many places in the world, Egypt is staring down the face of real trouble and social unrest. What will happen today? What will the military do and what will the people do? I pray for all those people. I pray that those with power will let everyone stay in this world. The Nile has had enough tears.

Interview With a Vampire and a Grieving Woman

It is strange to remember how the 1970s turned into the 80s and how the new millennium came to us so quickly. In the 70s I would  reach adulthood and meet my love. In the 80s I would come to know him and love him better than anyone. During those years, I would develop a love of reading that would stay with me always. In the mid 1970s, Anne Rice wrote a book called Interview With The Vampire. Today, vampires and vampire stories are very popular, but in those days they weren't so much. I'm not sure why I loved this book so much, but I suspect it had something to do with immortality. The characters could not die. The only problem with that was that they would never grow old. This sounds like a good thing, and I suppose my love was so great that I wanted this for my man. Still, he was no vampire and one day he did die. This morning I watched the movie which they made from the book. I could really relate with the character Lestat. He was doomed to walk the earth watching the people he cared about die and still living on himself. It made me think about all the people I have loved and lost and still I carry on. I can now see that living forever is not meant to be. It would keep us in a kind of limbo. Being human isn't easy, but being a vampire and it's promise of immortality are out of the question. I'll just be here now and what tomorrow brings I will accept.

Just for Today

I am in that place where I am not crying all the time, but I just can't make up my mind where I want to go. I guess really I could go anywhere or do anything, but I don't seem to have that drive to go forward like I use to. Always when my love was alive, every thought and action was filled with a desire to make life better for "us." Now that the future doesn't really involve "us," I'm really not sure how to proceed and I can't say I'm in a hurry to get there (wherever that may be). I am interested in the Internet now more than ever (I think it even has different names now than the Internet). I can remember watching futuristic films about virtual life that seemed pretty nice. I suspect that "virtual reality" might just be a desire to substitute a virtual dream and life for the pain which none of us wants to feel. I don't want to go that way. Still, it has been so good for me to communicate with people around the world who I could never meet but give me a reason to write down my thoughts and feelings. Thanks for reading this. I can see that we are not alone at all. I'm glad.

Note to Self: Be Here Now on the Journey to Ithica

“As you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that your journey be a long one,
filled with adventure, filled with discovery.
Laestrygonians and Cyclopes,
the angry Poseidon--do not fear them:
you'll never find such things on your way
unless your sight is set high, unless a rare
excitement stirs your spirit and your body.
The Laestrygonians and Cyclopes,
the savage Poseidon--you won't meet them
so long as you do not admit them to your soul,
as long as your soul does not set them before you.
Pray that your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings
when with what pleasure, with what joy,
you enter harbors never seen before.
May you stop at Phoenician stations of trade to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and voluptuous perfumes of every kind--
buy as many voluptuous perfumes as you can.
And may you go to many Egyptian cities
to learn and learn from those who know.
Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
You are destined to arrive there.
But don't hurry your journey at all.
Far better if it takes many years,
and if you are old when you anchor at the island,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will give you wealth.
Ithaca has given you a beautiful journey.
Without her you would never have set out.
She has no more left to give you.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
As wise as you have become, so filled with experience,
you will have understood what Ithacas mean.”
―    Constantine Cavafy (1863-1933)

My journey is not over yet, but Odysseus I am not and do not wish to be.

Every Family Will Know Death

Once there was a woman named Kisagotami, whose first-born son died. She was so stricken with grief that she roamed the streets carrying the dead body and asking for help to bring her son back to life. A kind and wise man took her to the Buddha.

The Buddha told her, "Fetch me a handful of mustard seeds and I will bring your child back to life." Joyfully Kisagotami started off to get them. Then the Buddha added, "But the seeds must come from a family that has not known death."

Kisagotami went from door to door in the whole village asking for the mustard seeds, but everyone said, "Oh, there have been many deaths here", "I lost my father", I lost my sister". She could not find a single household that had not been visited by death. Finally Kisagotami returned to the Buddha and said, "There is death in every family. Everyone dies. Now I understand your teaching."

 

--as retold by  
Instilling Goodness School 
City of Ten Thousand Buddhas 

Free Nelson Mandela

He looks around, around
He sees angels in the architecture
Spinning in infinity
He says, “Amen!” and “Hallelujah!”

               --Paul Simon "You Can Call Me Al"

One of the first songs my love and I shared as a couple was "I Just Called to Say I love You" by Stevie Wonder. For so very long we were kept apart and with this song, each time I heard it, we were able to be together. I did not know this song was banned in South Africa during Apartheid. The absolute favorite song writer of my love was Paul Simon. He bought the Graceland album and listened to it over and over. He even bought the Graceland concert VHS when it became available. I still watch that concert and I can sing every word. My love and I had the chance to hear Archbishop Desmond Tutu speak as Apartheid unraveled. My love was very interested in the injustice of apartheid and was so happy when Mandela was released. Tonight Mr. Mandela's family is faced with the sorrowful task of letting him go. How do you let go of someone you love so much? I suppose it is by grace. I pray for the people who are caring for Mr. Mandela to have the strength to let him go. As much as we want to, we must let all the ones we love go. I so wish that this was not so. Good night sweet prince! You too have been loved.

Chapulling and Making a Deal with God

It's funny to think about the last food I ever fed my love. It was Armenian food of grape leaves and hummus. He just barely ate some of the grape leaves. I must have made a million stuffed grape leaves and for me, it never gets any easier. Today, the people of Turkey are demanding more rights. It was always a secret about the Armenians in Turkey and what terrible things happened to them. I'm no expert on the history of Turkey, but I do know something about the genocide of Turkey's yesteryear. I have known a woman from Communist Russia. She immigrated with her father to Russia from Lebanon for a better life. Eventually, after giving birth to three children and really struggling to give them a better life, she made a deal with God to get her and her family out of Russia. God must have really wanted her because he got her out of Russia and to America! Historically, that is a big deal. She taught me to cook Armenian food and the time we spent together was happily in the kitchen. I rolled my first grape leaf with her. Am I with the Turkish people today as they attempt to protest? "Chapulling" is a Turkish word that has to do with fighting for one's rights. The meaning of the word changed from being an insult to being a rebel cry.  My love went to Turkey many times and loved it. I never went. Most of the people who have died in these protests were young men in their 20s. That's the age of my sister's grandsons. How would one grieve these young men? I cannot imagine their pain. My sister is supposed to visit Turkey this summer. I was so overjoyed when I heard she would be going to Istanbul. I have dreamed of that place all of my adult life. I imagine the Blue Mosque as the most beautiful building in the world. I know a little bit about its history and I can only imagine the centuries of joy and sadness contained in its walls. Now, I am not so happy about her plans. They don't seem so magical or even practical. Taking a holiday in such a place seems unthinkable, and yet I know people do and life goes on. Whichever way life goes on in Turkey, chapulling or not, my heart and prayers are with all the Turkish people (Armenians, presidents and young men in their 20s).

As You Go On

This is a letter I will give to one of my students today. He is so young that he cannot possibly know what the future holds for him.

Dearest One (real name withheld for obvious reasons),

Today as you leave our school and go on to whatever life may have in store for you, I want you to know how much you will be missed. I have been very grateful to have known you, and I want you to know how really wonderful you are. During the many years I have taught, I have known literally thousands of young people. Among those thousands of students, there were a few like you who I remember quite well. I want to tell you about them. When I first began teaching,I had a young student named Juan. He was so kind and generous with his friends. He loved to write and he was good at it. One terrible day, before the end of the school year, Juan found himself in a place where he needed to to leave but he chose to stay. He protected one of his friends from a local gangster. In so doing he was killed. I won't tell you how he died, but it was awful. I cannot forget him to this day. Then there was Tiarra. Everyone loves Tiarra and she is a very popular person. She worked so hard to get passing grades and this was difficult for her. After she graduated from our school, she returned to her own country. As fate would have it, this was the very place where a horrific tidal wave tore through the city and swept many people into the ocean never to return. I never learned if Tiarra was one of those people, but I tell myself she was not. John is another one of my students who went on to study at Berkeley. This is one of the best schools in California. I 'd like to think that I might have gone to that school myself if I had made better choices in high school. John came back to tell me one day that I made a difference in his life and to thank me for being one of his teachers. Let me tell you that this was one of the happiest days of my life. Then there was Hope whose father hurt her so badly that she almost didn't survive, but she did survive and somehow found the strength to go on and succeed. There was Scott whose father actually changed to became a woman. That was very very difficult for Scott to understand let alone accept. In his own way, Scott did accept this and went on with his own life. Another student, Gregorio, was a kid who all by himself found his way through Mexico from Guatemala to North America to get an education. He was a really small guy, but he found a garage to live in at some body's home and got his education. This he did in spite of always wondering if immigration was going to send him back to Guatemala. Those were the days when a young man growing up in Guatemala had no real prospects for the future, and he had seen horrible things done to the people he loved.
I want you to know that I could tell how amazing these people were. I don't know where they are today, but they were very strong. They were somehow a little different than the others and I knew it even then. You are one of these truly wonderful humans. Whatever life may hand you in the years to come, I want you to know that I believe in you. I haven't always had the easiest of lives myself and today isn't really any different. I do know that I never gave up no matter what, and in this refusing to give up, I have had the great honor to know people like you. Please always remember just how special you are. The world is a much better place because you are in it. The only reason in the world I am a teacher is because of people like you. You are one of the those kids that give people like me a reason to be here at all. I will miss you and I wish the best for you.

President Xi, Our President and the Seemingly Blocked Road to Rights

Yesterday, I traveled down a road I have traveled many times. I never really like to go there anymore because it leads to the hospital where my love died. That road brings back so many difficult memories for me. I was on my way to the mall to buy a birthday gift for a little girl who recently fought off cancer. It is with so much joy that we were able to celebrate her birthday. Yesterday, the road was blocked off and people could not get through. Along the sides of the road, in the heat of 100 degree plus temperatures, I could see many people with Chinese flags protesting the nearby visit of China's President. President Xi and our president were meeting at a most beautiful place where my love use to visit. This place, called Sunnylands, has hosted many of the most powerful people in America. My love was always interested in it because the Annenbergs, who built and lived in this huge estate once upon a time, were also the ones largely responsible for the beautiful hospital in which he spent so many of his last days. The estate is very near the hospital. I honked and waved at the protesters. It's not that I am against the president of China. It's just that I am glad in America we can protest in public for whatever we believe and nobody can arrest us because they don't agree. My love was no stranger to Falung Gong which is the religion forbidden in China. When my love was alive, we would sometimes attend Falung Gong performances in Los Angeles and these were very happy times for both of us. In China, this would not be possible. So yesterday, my path was blocked. I understand that things can change. It's nothing short of amazing that the man who represented our country yesterday was President Obama. There was a time, not so long ago, that the road of all African Americans to equality was blocked, too. Someday, I believe that followers of Falung Gong will find their way to equality as well. Perhaps the spirit of my love was there yesterday at Sunnylands. I'm sure he would have been if he could. Maybe he even whispered in the ear of President Xi. One cannot know, but the road is blocked for today.

Trust and the Very Dark Cave of Grief

This experience of grieving is very much like walking through a very dark cave and not knowing where I am or where I am going. I can choose to stop and not enter the cave at all, but that would be to not grieve at all and to pretend that this doesn't hurt. In my life I have made some really good choices. I am proud of those choices. Once, long long ago, I chose to listen to my intuition and speak with a child who seemed to be disappearing before my very eyes. Each day she grew thinner and thinner. I could have chosen to speak with her parents, but instead I spoke only to her. I fed her and somehow I knew she would tell me something important. I hoped that she would explain, but it was dark in that cave of life and I didn't know then where I was or where she really was or where we were going that day I sat her down to talk. Then, as if by magic she told me the unspeakable horrors of her life, and I knew she would have to leave her father's house and so this came to pass. She went on with her life and today I am so grateful that I trusted my instincts and listened to God and to her story. As I continue into my own dark cave of grieving, I know once again that although I am afraid and don't know where I am or where I am going, I must trust again just as I did long ago.

Tornadoes Rip Through Our Lives

When I was a very young girl, my mother took us to a lighthouse. Normally, this would be just an adventure for a young person. However, we climbed the lighthouse in a hurricane on the outer banks of North Carolina. It was really scary and even today strong winds can conjure up feelings of helplessness in me. Upon reaching the top of the lighthouse, my mother stepped outside and quickly had her raincoat ripped off and sent into the heavens. Luckily for me, my brother and I were not outside or we, like her raincoat, probably would have been sent to the heavens as well.
Today, president Obama spoke of grief in the wake of the Oklahoma Tornado. He stated that Americans would be with the people of Oklahoma as they begin this road to recovery and personal grief. Death is so much like a tornado that comes out of nowhere and just picks up your life and throws it away to places you can never reach again. What was once such a happy home becomes a heap of trash that you are scarcely strong enough to rebuild. You pick through the rubble with no understanding of what is to come. Few have a real understanding of grief and its myriad roads to wander. I know, for me, that lighthouse is a powerful metaphor. It represents a safe place I can go hoping somehow I will be alright. However, now that lighthouse is within my heart. Why we must survive these storms in our lives is still a mystery to me. The answer may not come in my lifetime, or maybe it will.

A Brilliant Love Untarnished

Today I have been polishing copper pots. It is kind of therapeutic for me just as is polishing silver. Yesterday, after I finished my blog, I began to go through old papers that needed to be thrown out. This process has taken much time since my love died. I found a valentine that my love gave me and it was so sweet. Then, I found something I wrote about my love more than twenty years ago.

Why I Love My Sweetheart

Such a gentle man he is. He even loves the ducks that swim in the lakes outside my window.  Loving this man has opened up the whole world for me. In his gentle arms, I have seen the Tropic of Capricorn and the bluest skies above the Timor sea. He has hypnotized me and brought me to tears with his poetry. He was born to a great father. He drove me in the funeral procession of my old best friend. He is my best friend. He has kept me from harms way so many times I cannot count. He feeds me soup and orange juice when I am sick. He picks out the sweetest cards and brings me roses for Valentine's Day. He cried when I read this to him. He loves me, and one million words could not convey why I love his sweet heart.

Happy Birthday To You And Me Wherever We Are

Waking up this morning, it was obvious that the day would be somewhat gray. The sky was filled with clouds and it was chilly. In my head, the first thing that came to mind was the happy birthday song. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you... You know the rest. Well, today would be my love's birthday if he were alive. I tried to imagine holding him. The last words he ever spoke to me were "I love you." Those were my last words to him. I don't know exactly what to do with myself today. Sitting around crying is probably not what my love would want for me. I do know that the world my love was born into was a very difficult place. He would come to know hunger and pain many times over before we would meet and begin a life together. He was so strong that he lifted himself out of poverty to become a happy and successful man. He really did live the American dream. Myself, being born in America, I never had such difficult trials and tribulations as my love. Today, I will remember his strength and everything he taught me about life. I will try to be kind and help people less fortunate than myself and always take care of myself. These were things my love always did. He liked to "work hard and play hard." He really was the most amazing person I ever met. I'm not going to bake a cake. I'm not going to light any candles. Still, I think I can take this day as my new birthday and begin again. Happy birthday to me.

The Captain of My Heart

In the late 60's I use to enjoy a television show entitled "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir." Mrs. Muir is a widow who is visited by a ghost, a ship's captain, played by Edward Mulhare. I always thought the character of the ship's captain was so handsome and I watched that show for most of its two year run. They had a dog in the show whose name was Scruffy and my dog Duffy reminds me of that little dog. Today on the television, they showed the original film upon which the television show was based. Rex Harrison played the ship captain and what a gorgeous sight he was. Gene Tierney played Mrs. Muir. The two fall in love even though they know their relationship is impossible. This week I revisited a place my love and I use to go 30 years ago and it was as if I were that young girl again. I could see the pool where we use to swim and the beautiful white columns that surrounded it. I could look up and almost imagine the ghost of my love watching me swim in the warm water although I know this is only wishful thinking. Still, all my memories came back to me and I was very happy. Today, at the end of the movie, Mrs. Muir quietly falls asleep and passes away into the great beyond. The ship's captain takes her hands and lifts her soul into the next world. Happily with him she goes. Someday, I hope that my love will take me from this world, holding my hands, joyfully on our way into eternity. I can dream.

Carry On & Chase Your Own Tail

Today I received a call from an old friend. He apologized for not calling sooner. He's the kind of person who will give you chocolate, when you need it, out of the blue. It was nice to hear how well things were going for him. He didn't say anything foolish or uncomfortable. He talked about his love for his two dogs. I never knew that side of him since he never spoke about his dogs before. I told him how I had gotten this shelter dog, Jamal, soon after my love died. Jamal has an under bite and his eyes go a tiny bit cross-eyed. He's all black with a long white beard and the biggest white paws you have ever seen. He is the only dog I have ever seen chase its own tail. I remember how much I laughed the first time I saw him do it. It was my first real laugh since my loved died. Lately I've been hearing a song on the radio that I am taking for my theme song with the words, "When your lost an alone or sinking like a stone, carry on." This young singer, whose voice is like a smile, is from the group Fun. I fell in love with their music last year. I don't know his name, but he even sings a duet with Pink about being bent, but not broken, "...and I will learn to love again." Oh boy do the tears come when I hear that one. Still, its a powerful mantra for me and it is so that I will learn such things. My love was the first real true love for me in my life. I suppose my wonderful dog Jamal is kind of a rebound relationship for me (lol). So, tonight, if you are lost and alone or sinking like a stone--carry on. I am.

What Comes of Not Grieving

I watched a show on television today about hoarding. One man, perhaps the saddest and most desperate, was hoarding rats. It seems unimaginable that a person could let thousands of rats live in his home running everywhere. Yet, that was the case. After watching for awhile, we learned that his wife had died several years before. He was so depressed and when he talked about his love for his pet rats, he would cry. Actually, he was very fragile and cried easily. He couldn't talk much about his wife at all. The doctor that was working with him told him that he had a great deal of grief inside of him. He never got any help with his grieving when she died. I suppose, in his own way, he did the best he could. His wife died of a heart attack so very young. Obviously, this is an extreme case. Still, it is a tragic example of what happens when one does not grieve and feel the bad bad feelings you have to feel when someone you love dies. I have so hated feeling sad and alone, but I am not nearly as sad as I was. Today was a really beautiful sunny day, and time marches on.

Singing my love Into the next life

Many years ago, before I even imagined the new millennium, my love and I went to Australia. This is the place of the "dreamtime." It's hard for me to explain the dreamtime, but I understand it as the Aborigine people of Australia's explanation of creation. There is also the notion of "songlines" or ways that people travel across the land. A part of this idea is that things which happen are connected to specific places. The place where my love died is strangely connected to my family's history (but that is another story). I remember the first time I ever went to that hospital with my love, long before he died, and how I felt very connected to it. Stranger even still, when we met the doctor who would save my love that first time, and then help him transition from this world, I felt as if I knew him. During that first meeting, as stressful as it was, I told my love to ask the doctor where he was from. Sure enough, the doctor was from the same town my love was from (not exactly a town and very very far from where we stood). Years later when my love began to die, I was with him in that very same hospital. I didn't consciously know he was going to die. I still held out hope that he would live, but unconsciously I knew the time was near. Alone with my love in the room, I began to tell him where he was going. I told him his life's story on earth and I began to tell him about all the people who were waiting for him in the next. I knew his life story better than my own and knew all the people who had loved him and had to leave him when they died. It's funny how I knew to do this. Somehow it seemed correct. Not long after this, even though I did not want to, I told him that if he had to go,"Go." Not long after that, he died.
Today I read this statement by Sylvia Brown:
"It's such a shame that we can't convey to people how lucky the are to be going Home and really mean it. Convey the truth: 'You are going Home. Your work is finished. You are graduating.'"  It does feel like I conveyed this to my love at the end. It felt like a "dreamtime." Those were very strange moments at the end. Still, I felt like I was "singing" him into the next world with his story.  There is no knowing if this was true, but who can say.

Feelings aren't necessarily Reality

Recently, I got a really bad flu. Actually, I will never know if it was the flu or food poisoning. At any rate, I was sicker than I can ever remember being in my life, and I am somebody who annually gets the flu shot. After being so sick all day, I began to get really worried. I knew that if I couldn't take fluids after 24 hours, I was going to need to go to the doctor. I felt so all alone. I don't think I have ever felt so alone. Now, nobody ever just comes up to my door. I live pretty far from other people and it never happens (no trick-or-treaters, no Christmas carolers, etc.) Finally, I was able to take a little water and I started to think things were going to be OK. Then, the mailman came to the door with a registered letter. The mail man has never come to the door in all the years I have lived here. I signed my name pretty much with an X since opening the door was such a challenge. Later in the day, missionaries came to the door wanting to chat. I couldn't open the door but I was sure glad to see them. What I realized later was that if I had really needed someone, they would have been there for me. I wasn't really alone at all. I could have called someone, but even if there had been no one to call, the universe sent people to check on me (that's how it seemed). Each day, I feel a little more sure that things will be OK.