Monday, December 31, 2018

Can I just have Larry back?

Sunday wrecked me.  I turned on the TV, and tried to watch Sunday Morning on CBS.  The 2018 retrospective and the Memorium pieces were too much, plus memories of our lazy weekends.  I spent the day crying.  I wept into the yogurt I was making.  I'd planned to put things away, but I was immobilized.  I don't think I have cried this much to date.   Ate half a gummy and dozed in front of the basement TV with the old movie channel on.  Why is no one outraged by Gigi these days?  How awful.  Know the problem with edibles?  I stopped crying, but I was still sad, and had the raging munchies.  Then I had a headache.  Then I cried a lot more.  Came upstairs and dozed through hours of Law and Order.  This is no good life at all.  

I am lonely, the day to day lonely.  I want to share things with him, have him around doing little chores, taking a drive, running some errands.  Honey, look  at this video.  Hun, bring the laundry up.  Hun, did you see?  Have you  heard?  How was your run?  Did you take your pills?  How's your hands?  Let me cut your hair.  What do we want for dinner?  Random hugs in the kitchen.

Having people around is not the solution, but it might help.  Going out in this freezing weather is not feasible, even with a scarf, it irritates my lungs.  I'll probably try to snag a few more things in, make sure the birdfeeder is full.  No way am I going to get anything heavy done. I certainly do not want to go to parties.  Drunk and sad and trapped at someone else's home is unappealing.

My hernia area is hurting.  Yay, just what I need.  I only had surgery in July, so too soon, far too soon.  If I cannot handle the kitty litter and laundry, I am in trouble.  No one is going to come by daily for this and that.  So in addition to being sad, I am scared.  

I just want Larry back.  Otherwise, I'm ready to quit.  No, not that, never that.  But being this alone with no other prospects ahead is awful.  Supposedly it gets better, and I have plans to become engaged with the world, but I simply cannot do a thing this day, this week.  

Saturday, December 29, 2018

Winding it up, winding down.

The cold and the snow has set in.  I am beginning to put away the holiday decor, especially the stuff outside., the bows and bells and wreaths.  Inside is a bit trickier, as the tote with the winter roses is outside.  Yes, it matters, because the autumn decor is in the Christmas box, and this requires a three season swap. I will get it done, and feel accomplished.  I will still be sad.  Utterly and eternally.

Ah, the holiday social scene. I did go to Christmas breakfast with my nieces on my brother David's side.  Lots of pleasantries, and I hid out in the kitchen for the most part.  When 17 people in a small apartment got to be too much, I took the trash out for a breath of fresh air. Cried beside the industrial dumpster for a few moments.  When I got home, I was simply too overwhelmed and in physical pain, I skipped Christmas dinner with Sally and crew.  While it will be their last holiday in Utah, I was just not up for it emotionally.  Nope.  Jeremy called, Troy and Stacey called, so that was nice.  Last night was Krista's birthday party in Salt Lake.  I bowed out as participating in a party with a theme and characters and a quest sounded like a lot of work with a group of people I adore, but have not really seen since Larry died.  It would have been far too much. 

Tonight I have tickets to The Greatest Showman sing along, but I do not want to go see a love story by myself.  I offered the tickets online and found a delightful person to give them to.  Another woman was all kinds of upset that I did not give them to her.  "I was first to reply", she objected.  No, not really, and this is not a radio contest at any rate.  She sent me a nasty message.  Okay then, I can block you, darling.  I;d looked at her FB profile, and didn't care for what I saw.  Karen, no one cares about your expired coupons, if you get my drift.

I did paint.  I had accidently received a print of faceless angels from Deviant Art.  They said keep it.  So I did, and gave the kids a couple gas masks.  Perfection.  I can paint.  I can paint!!  I CAN PAINT!



Tuesday, December 25, 2018

Snow and tears

There's a lovely blanket of snow outside, so pretty when it first fell.  Now it is slush turned to ice, with leaves and gunk and trails of footprints.  There's a metaphor in there.  Have at it.

Little Punkin has been sent across the Rainbow Bridge on Saturday.  She was fine in the morning, her usual obnoxious self.  She settled under the throw against my legs after breakfast.  I felt her moving, so I lifted the edge of the throw.  She seemed to be caught in the blankets, then I realized, her hind legs were not working right.  She fell over.  I got her cuddled up and contacted Desi, who was working.  Des rushed through her dogs, but it was still a couple hours.  Punkin didn't seem to be in pain, just confused, unable to stay upright, and when I took her in the kitchen, unable to walk.  I gave her her favorite pouch treat, she fell onto it at one point.  I cleaned her fur, she kept eating.  Turned my back to rinse off my hands and she had dragged herself into the bedroom and onto the bed.  How, I have no idea.  She cleaned herself, then curled up and fell asleep.

Desi came, and put Punkin in to the kennel.  Punkin was not amused.  We went to the emergency vet in the old McGrath's Fish House instead of the awful one which is a little closer.  They had a pleasant room with a comfy couch.  Lots of forms, so many forms, and a credit card. 

"Do you want to be present?"   Want, WANT?  No,  I do not want to be here at all.  What popped out of my mouth was, "If I can do it for my husband, I can do it for this cat".  Rather raw, but my whole life has ragged edges now.  I am not easy to be around, I am prickly like a cactus, or some odd fruit grown on a thorny tree.

Punkin sat with me, leaving only to get the IV.  She was growling and snipping when they brought her back, but I couldn't blame her.  She settled in against my hip.  The vet came in and we talked, he gave her the first injection and she fell right asleep.  Another, and she was gone.  At least it was easy and I was with her.

I did not choose individual cremations and a little box with her ashes.  I have too many urns in the house, and no one to bury her for me.  So she will be with the other animals, and they actually take those ashes up to the mountains and scatter them.  Dust to dust. 

People say she is with Larry now.  That's a sweet thought, so I shall let it stand.  Farewell, little Death Kitty.

Another week of 2018.  Just fucking stop, okay?


Saturday, December 22, 2018

The Cold Moon

The Cold Moon shone brightly in my windows last night.  A harbinger of the coming cycle of light and dark, growth and decay. life and death.  Winter is here.  Yesterday was Solstice, my Yule, my New Year.  I wanted to go out and make a small fire in the firepit, as MyLarry would have done.  I did not have the energy, will, or desire to go out back.  I will this morning, to fill the birdfeeder.  They don't deserve hunger because I am distraught. 

My life is withered and sere.  Winter is here.  A winter which may last all year.

Running the damn house is going to be expensive without my resident handyman. I can do some things; I fixed the doorbells, rewired a lamp.  I had to call a plumber because the sink faucet was leaking.  Got a two-fer and did the bathroom faucet too, as it leaks periodically.  Worth every penny.  I got under the sink to plug in the disposal, wow, that plug is a nightmare.  There are two outlets underneath, one switched, one unswitched.  The unswitched outlet has a plug and cord that look terrible.  Uninsulated and scary.  That is the WHOLE FUCKING GARAGE plugged in under my sink, the outlets, the lights.  Yikes.  No wonder Larry used the genny when he wanted to weld.  He ran fucking power saws and more off that system.  Fuck me.  How did this get past the home inspector when we bought the house? 


Thursday, December 20, 2018

Holiday Cheer, my ass

I did put up my holiday decor, as it felt like surrender not to do so.  I cried over the tiny cute ornaments with our names on them, and the frame ornament with our Santa Rampage photo. 

I will be spending time with family on Christmas.  One family breakfast, and one dinner.  I am not feeling it.  We never spent time with my brother on Christmas, but my nieces are being thoughtful, I want to be gracious in return.  Dinner with the SIL will be weird, but I will make candied yams, I will make nice,  especially as they're moving out of state.  None of this feels cheerful to me, so I'm thinking of it as a duty day, with two watches which are going to suck, but need to be done.  Then I can come home, set something on fire in the firepit out back, and get drunk as fuck.

Go me.


Thursday, December 13, 2018

Shambling onward toward the unknown

This new cycle of grief and loneliness is distressing.  Words such as pendulum, rollercoaster, waves, we have heard them all.  All have a ring of truth, but nothing encompasses the whole.  Ups and downs, highs and lows?  More like slow tides, rising and falling, with eddies and currents ready to sweep me into the depths, then when I drown, crushed in the ocean of grief, in a flash I find myself instead gasping for air cast onto a strange sandy shore.  Sometimes I can sit on a rock and watch my daily activities dispassionately, sometimes I am the flotsam, pushed and pulled until I land on a random shoal like a forgotten flip-flop fallen from a fisherman's foot.  Certainly, I am not in control much of the time.

The terrible weekend bled over into a monstrous Monday.  Tuesday was more productive, as was Wednesday, but I can tell my brain is stressed and not in proper working order.  I make mistakes.  I am forgetful.  So easy to dive into social media and ignore the world.  Ignore the pain of Larry not being here. I want to put my arms around him and feel that slender lithe body, those strong muscles, that tickly beard.  To listen to his breath, his heartbeat.  I know I felt that one. Last. Heartbeat.  But there were supposed to be so many more.  I can't fathom this some moments. 

I painted a little.  Nothing new, just a redo of an older painting.  I touched paint, so there's progress.  I wrote to Lonny, but I am still putting off holiday cards.  I adulted, some of which I shouldn;t need to be doing at all.  Stupid adulting.

I don't know how to swim, so how can I escape this vicious riptide?  Where this ends up is hard to grasp.  

Saturday, December 8, 2018

Merry is not the operative word

Saturday.  Weekends are becoming the worst days ever.  Larry was home weekends.  Saturday was also a morning in bed, then on to chores or errands, and sometimes a drive.  This Saturday, I cannot stop crying.  I am Not Having a Good Day. I miss him, I miss our home.  This house, empty and alone, is not home enough.  But is is all I have. 

Yesterday afternoon I had lunch at Tona's with another recent widow.  It was nice to get out, we talked about our spouses.  It was pleasant.  I did not cry.  I came home and went to bed early, watched some recorded TV.  Deleted all the Dr. Who.  I just didn't care to watch it.  I am bored with myself, frustrated that I cannot banish grief. 

Got a letter from Lonny.  I will write back, but not today.  Today sucks.

I got out my little address book.  I want to send holiday cards.  They're all so fucking cheerful, I cannot stand it.  I feel sick to my stomach.  Merry?  Happy?  Joyous?  No, that is simply not so.  Not this year.  Larry never paid attention to cards, coming or going.  I'd read the occasional newsletter to him, and show him any pictures, but he was not into it. Meh.  I was, but declined the years I was ill.  Now?  I want to reach out, but it is literally making me want to throw up.  Dammit.

I'm entering a new terrain of tears.  The lows are becoming very, very low.  I will ride it out, but this fun ride is so much not fun at all.  Worst rollercoaster ever. No actual rollercoaster has made me want to puke, but this Emotional Ride is working overtime.   A closed loop. 

I think I need a cup of tea, but that will make me cry too. 


Thursday, December 6, 2018

The Meatloaf of Sadness

Determined to use the meat in the deep freeze, I thawed a ground turkey chub and a pack of ground pork for a meatloaf.  I have not been cooking much, so this was a big step.  Big is the operative word.  That was three pounds of meat, plus oatmeal, dried onions, an egg, and tons of herbs and spices, topped with a mustard balsamic gravy mix.  Yummy, but now it sits in the fridge in two containers. Every time I open the fridge, it smells of meaty goodness.  

Why is this sad?  Because that is a LOT of meatloaf.  Probably more than I can eat before it gets old and stale. Larry would have made sandwiches from it.  I guess I will need to vac-seal and freeze some in single portions.  Is this defeating the whole use up the frozen stuff plan?  I still have frozen tamales from a few weeks ago.

The fireplace insert is already here.  That was fast.  I worry because the box looks a little rough.  Very heavy, I could barely get it in the door.  I got some laundry done and folded.  I need to change the sheets, and to vacuum.  I need to make yogurt, to pack up some jewels and stones for a friend, to actually do the Ancestry DNA kit. Put the solar lights in the box, but the wheelcovers on the trailer tires.  I am exhausted though, lethargic.  Encased in amber which lets in dim light, but allows no movement or progress.  I hate being alone and lonely.  No one else will do, people are a welcome distraction, but no replacement for Larry in my life. 

Tuesday, December 4, 2018

Snow falls

I knew I'd missed the weather window for roof lights.  We had a light and fluffy snowfall.  Most of the sidewalks and roads are clear, but the roof has a lovely little blanket.  I cannot find the indoor window lights.  Not a clue where they have been stashed.

Had a wonderful scare with a gas leak.  After shoveling the snow, I could smell gas when I went back in the house, very strong.  I made sure the flu was open and went outside.  Dominion Energy came out, and the guy checked everything.  Turns out the fireplace insert is broken at one end.  Joy.  I was able to order one from Lowe's, military discount and all, free delivery. Still, over $200.  Colby will put in in.  The stove had a leak too, but the DE guy was able to fix it.  I gave him a couple mini-bottles.  At least I was able to clean behind the stove.

I got my Secret Santa package in the mail.  I sure hope they enjoy it!  I went a little heavy on the Jurassic Park theme.  Life, uh, finds a way.

Feeling ... calmer?  More resigned?  I still have very bad moments, and I do not think I will ever stop missing him.  I just cry less.  I still mope a lot.  This still sucks.

Friday, November 30, 2018

A little this and that, bits and bobs/

I went to the mall to shop for Reddit Secret Santa, as most of my giftee's like can be found in places such as Hot Topic. Sweets you say?  See's Candy, most assuredly, as they have nice little gift boxes and presents.  One of the See's ladies, in her crisp white uniform with the black bows, remarked she had not seen me in a while.  Yeah, no, you have not.  Of course I had to tell the Sad News.  She came and hugged me, and told me how much he loved me, and that they;d been talking about him.  Of course they had, he always made quite the impression.  Weird to stand in a crowded candy shop getting a big warm hug from the candy lady.  So now See's is Sad Chocolate.

Not that I'll give it up.

Other bits and bobs include getting the 401K into a good IRA, one which will pay out nicely because it is indexed, with a variety of protections.  Another chunk of change went into a product I call a reverse life insurance policy.  I give them money, they put it in where it might or might not earn interest but cannot decrease, and pay me a monthly stipend.  When it is gone, it is gone.  If I die, they get it.  Another product is like and indexed CD/personal retirement fund.  It earns a bonus every year I do not touch it, and compounds on that.  This keeps it safe until I need it in a few years, and it grows.  Once I start taking payouts, it keeps paying out until I die, even if I exceed what originally went in.  Perfect at my age.  I still have money in savings and the money market, I have my three little incomes, and a nice normal CD.  I should be okay.  Mostly I wanted my money tucked away from scammers, leeches, and greedy buggers.

Went to the credit union and got an explanation why they're taking so long to remove Larry from the accounts.  He had an IRA, so they cannot take him off until the end of the tax year.  That would have been nice to know.

And in mundane boring news, I got the glass storage shelves arranged.  Larry kept glass jars, so out they went.  I have several flats of canning jars in assorted sizes.  Lots of glass vases and bottles and canisters.  A big glass cake dome, some stockpots, more wax, the china, the flatware, the holiday stuff up on the top shelf.  All nicely arranged.  Kinda sorta.  Now I can move on the laundry and more of the wretched excess.  This all included bringing up the Spode cookie jar and teapots and ornaments for the baker's rack.  I also have Spode teacups, and mugs, and plates, and bowls, and use them every winter.  Not this year.  It just doesn't feel merry and bright.  Not right. The dated plate and ornaments made me cry.  2011, he was alive.  2012.  2001 Our First Christmas in the house.  Except is was 2000.  Still.  I wanted the decorations up, but damn, this first holiday is Not a Happy Holiday.

I didn't get the stockings out either.  Merry Fucking Christmas, huh?


Monday, November 26, 2018

Have a Relatively Pleasant Continued Existence.

I began the day in tears.  Sleep had come and gone, dreams were strange.  The insurance on the truck is an iffy thing as I do not have a license, and the driver is not a resident of this household.  Larry's name is not off all accounts and I dread correspondence addressed to him.  I messaged a friend, and saw the last  conversation we had about prepping for Burning Man, Larry's neck pain and potential pneumonia.  That was mere days before I took him to the ER and they discovered the mass.  I went downstairs to get the Spode Christmas tree cookie jar and teapots, and discovered two printers which I thought had gone to the dumpster.  A box of Christmas glasses and mugs which Larry was going to make into candles.  The leaves outside always break my heart.  So many little paper cuts on my heart.

A dear friend lost her beloved cat in some sort of freak accident.  Devastating.  He was a lovely creature, loving and universally loved.  My heart aches for her.

But I got the norens up, and the garlands with them, and a few more bows.  Did the kitty litter and a red table cloth in the front room. Ate a hot lunch of chicken and a baked yam, yes, with my excellent cranberry sauce.  Received a lovely little Moon pendant as part of a gift exchange, a holiday card, and a commission for a leather tool roll.  Had a nice long phone conversation with another local widow who is only six weeks out.  I am calmer, if not happier.

Ordered an external hard drive.  Excellent deal, but I really shouldn't be buying things.  Ah well.

Three in the afternoon, I gave in to the call of a hot bath, and having a nice cuppa in my flannel nightgown.  Everything can wait.

How does one end a conversation with someone bereaved?  Have a nice day doesn't cut it.  I think I said "Have a relatively pleasant continued existence".  Hah.  I cannot even quote myself.


Sunday, November 25, 2018

Blackout Holiday and the Missing Routine.

Widows do not get roof lights.  No one wants to climb on the roof, except for one person.  He lives at the other end of the valley, and is detoxing for alcohol.  He is in no shape to drive north and climb a ladder.  So.  I will try to get the ornaments and bells out for under the eaves, and the lights for inside the windows, but there will not be a net on the swamp cooler to make it look like a present, no LED strands along the roof ridges, not light up garland under the eaves, no great big sparking stars, no Bright Ball of Wow.  Nope. 

Today is Sunday.  We would have woke up, had coffee, turned on the TV to Sunday Morning.  He would have made breakfast in bed for us.  Then morning sex with the classic rock station on the TV.  Put on a meal in the crockpot.  Sort the newspaper ads, clip the coupons, read the funnies to each other.  Go to the commissary.  Maybe Michaels and Lowes.  Maybe lunch somewhere, then we'd come home and he'd putter around the yard.  The firepit would be going.  Maybe he'd be helping me put up the decorations indoors, maybe I'd be helping him put up the ones in front of the house.  He'd work outside for far too long, until after dark.  Maybe fix the roof to the Buddha house.  Wrap the trunks of the tiny Japanese maples.  Winterize the veggie garden.  Fill the twitter bird feeder.  I'd be putting clean sheets on the bed.  Maybe painting.  Fussing and futzing.

The leaves would all be up and mulched.  The gutters would be clear.  The Burning Man stuff  would not still be underfoot.  The fireplace would be warming the basement.

We would eat dinner in the recliners, he'd catch up on his shows while I dozed beside him. 

And that's what Sunday should be. 

It is not.  I got up at four in the morning, because why not? Fed the cats and started coffee.   I did bake some cornbread for breakfast because I am out of bread for toast.  Got the papers and found one worthwhile coupon.  It's in a pile with the others from last week.  Watched a little TV on the laptop, but did not turn on the bedroom set at all.  Looked at FB and Reddit.  Got showered and dressed.  Cried some.  Scooped the cat box.  Sat in the front room and stared out the picture window.  Cried some more.  Worked on the kitchen decor.  More crying.  Sorted some paperwork.  That annoyed me.  Then moe kitchen stuff.  Cried when I found our framed Christmas photo.  Zapped a bean and cheese burrito, ate it with homemade cranberry sauce.  No one to share the sauce with.  No one wants it.  No one wants me. 

I still have the high shelf and the baker's rack in the kitchen to go, as well as put away the pumpkin teapot and squash pictures, and get the Spode out. Then there's the tree.  Steam and mop the kitchen floor, and get out the Christmas rugs.  And the white lace noren and the garlands, and the shower curtain, and a tablecloth.  I will do it too.  May take two days.

This sucks so much.  So very, very much.


Saturday, November 24, 2018

Falling like leaves around my ankles.

I do not think of myself as strong.  I saw the word "resilient" and that's the one.  I keep going.  I am sad and distraught and I want to scream and tears appear seemingly at random, brought on by the most trivial things, but I keep ticking.  Not quickly, slow and up and down, but onward.  There is nothing else.

I finally cooked a dinner for myself.  I mistimed it and ate the baked sweet potato while the chicken was cooking, but it was okay.  Taking out the foil to line the pan made me cry.  Larry used foil in the camp stove.  I wonder how much he has stashed away. 

The final DFAS check came in, the "arrears" one.  And that is that. 

The backyard is full of leaves again, now leaves which have an inch of snow on top.  Larry would not have let that happen.  The front gutter still drips.  I have half a useless freezer taking up space out back. 

Colby is coming to fix the furnace this afternoon.  I know he'll give me a fair price, but money scares me.  So much. 

America First is addressing everything to Howard. I thought we took care of that.  Damn. 

There's a couple charges on the Visa.  Trying to decide if I need to pay or screw them.  I am thinking screw them.  I'm screwed because I can't get that card in my name.  Thanks a fucking lot.

There may be roof lights tomorrow.  We shall see if promises are kept, if people show up.  I have doubts.  So many good intentions falling like the maple leaves out back, shriveled and yellowed.

Onward, because I have nowhere else to go.

Friday, November 23, 2018

The Friday After

Well, I survived.  Had Turkey Brunch with my brother's family at Chuckarama.  Yes, that was as bizarro as it sounds.  I am glad I went.  The roast beef with horseradish sauce was nice.  Everything else was passable except the Wretched Carrot Cake of Despair.  Two of my nieces took me and the kids to see Ralph Wrecks the Internet. A bit of fun.  I passed on the Turkey Dinner with friends.  Exhaustion and physical pain had had their way with me.  Besides,  I think I would have been crying in the bathroom far too much.  I should have just taken up the offer to go to SLC and soak in a hot tub.

I got a call from Larry's son.  I do not hear from him often, but he has a very good reason. He's in jail, and unless someone funds his account, he cannot call.  He wrote, but the letter never arrived.  I hope I get to see him sooner than later.

A friend who is having their own crisis called, and we have worked out a time for him to come and put up the Christmas lights.  It is something he can do for Larry.  I am happier, and he is happier too.  A nice meeting of unhappy souls. 

But I do feel forgotten and faded.  Just a little less.

Onward, because that is the only option.


Wednesday, November 21, 2018

Wodin's Day and The Deleted Rants of Facebook

I deleted the rants there, the last incarnation can dwell here.


A rant. Beware.

Beautiful Wodin's Day outdoors. In here it is the bitter taste of stale promises and fallen good intentions, the ashes of anger. Fuck cancer. Fuck my back pain. Fuck Autumn. This shit is hard. I lasted all of ten minutes in the backyard raking. I thought I was stronger. I am not. I'm entering my fucking pissed off at the world stage. I'm angry I cannot start the lawn mower, which is probably out of gas anyway. I'm angry the garden got so bad this summer. I'm angry I cannot wrangle the ladder. I'm angry Larry died. I'm angry at the asshats on Fb marketplace who asked for things then never fucking showed up. I'm angry Larry hauled so much crap home and burdened me with junk too big to go into the trash bin. I'm angry at just about everything this fine day, including being angry with myself for not being able to speak up until I am enraged. That's my hallmark, simmering then simultaneously imploding and exploding. So that pisses me off too, feeling awkward and guilty and passive aggressive.

I do not want to be The Centerpiece of Pity, but here I am.

Fortunately, I have someone coming this afternoon who can help a bit. Getting any of the chores done always helps cheer me up; knowing the raspberry canes will be trimmed is a huge relief. I know people care, I also know I cannot ask to be a first priority. It is hard being the second string after being the center of Larry's universe.
And fuck that dog next door.

Okay Google, find affordable lawn care.

Monday, November 19, 2018

Pity turkey

For the first time in years, my brother's family has invited me to the annual trip to the all you can eat buffet for Thanksgiving (the one which once gave me food poisoning bad enough I had to go to the ER, yay).  One niece is picking me up, and will pay my way.  I will go, I will be pleasant and appreciative.  But if Larry were alive, I'd not have heard from them.  Pity turkey.  I have a second invitation in the evening, but from someone who usually invites us, sometimes with Larry, sometimes without.  I will go there too.  But I know damn well it is pity turkey.  I imagine it tastes something like ashes.

I am not okay today.  I made the mistake of calling the bank about my main credit card.  It is in Larry's name, not mine.  Used for everything, I am screwed without it.  Fortunately, I do have one card in my name, and got almost everything swapped over to it, or to my checking account.  I will miss the Amazon points, and cannot go to Costco until or unless I get a Visa card.  I was going to let the membership go, I won't need it.  I was going to stock up on trash bags and paper towels though! I am worried about money.  I should be alright, but I don't know, not for sure.  As long as I don't lose the house, as long as the heat and lights and water stay on.  As long as I can care for the cats. 

Calling so many places, trying to get through the tangle of passwords onlines, site after site.  Not impossible, but wearing.  I am worried about the furnace, about the fireplace, although I may have found someone for that.  Worried about the damn leaves, the garden, the raspberry canes.  Worried about all the crap which need to go to the dump or just away.  Worried about the cats' medicines.  Worried that my house will never have Larry's Christmas lights on the roof again.  Ever.

What do you need?  Just call, we'll be there.  Let us come help.  We won't forget you. 

Riiight.  I do have people who come to help, I love and appreciate their time and muscle power, but it is going into the holiday.  They are busy, they have family, they have plans, they have stuff to do.  I understand.  But for all the others, the easy words have come and gone.  I don't expect anything like the gift cards and donations, that was clear in my mind it was an initial outpouring of sympathy and true care, true love for Larry.  Now?  If I needed food delivered, sure, maybe.  Not what I need.  I need hours of help with grubby tasks out in the cold and the dirt. No one wants to do anything so unglamorous. 

I am forgotten.  

Friday, November 16, 2018

Small victories. Miniscule, actually.

I fixed the doorbell.  Doorbells, actually, the front and back are part and parcel.  I may have thrown out some questionable rechargeable batteries.  Still I now have an easy to use charger, and some reliable D cells, and the weird little battery which goes in the doorbell itself.

I have also begin to sort the Dread Bin O' Stuff from my parents house.  Like stepping into a little time machine made of paper and odd scents.  Lots of souvenir things, menus,magazines,  cards, letters, and a whole lot of my art and homework from when I was in second grade.  I drew a lot of princesses, horses, and animals.  I need to find a way to preserve some of this.  Maybe one of those fancy chestlike boxes from Michaels. 

The photos are almost overwhelming.  My baby book is on pieces, I would like to redo that.  I can toss the photos of the cousins, I think.  And so many pictures from when dad was in the Navy.  Wow.  I'll get it done.  Will anyone care?

Today is my first return to Massage Envy.  I am going with Desi to the one on Riverdale.  I am sad.  I will cry.  I hope I will not freak out my therapist.  Larry and I went once a month to the Massage Envy out by the Layton Hills Mall, a couples massage in the fancy couples room.  I miss Kiera and Shelley, but it is too difficult and too hard to go there again.  I did go give Kiera one of Larry's mermaid bowties.  She is a remarkable human with turquoise eyes and silver hair.  I hope only good things come into her life, she's sweet and loving.  

Monday, November 12, 2018

Weirdness and skepticism.

Two trees grow in the back yard, the very mature over 50 years old maple, and a smaller upstart mulberry. I neglected the back garden while Larry was ill, the ground nest of yellowjackets was no help.  I am playing catch up before the snow falls. 

While the maple is still holding the majority of its leaves, the mulberry has dropped all hers.  These are thick, heavy leaves which will kill the grass.  I was pretty distraught as I cannot handle the lawn mower to get them up, and the Toro leaf sucker/mulcher bag is broken.  No way I could rake all that.  The flowerbeds and garden are buried too.

I hate that tree.

So Sunday morning, I decide to get the rose bushes done.  Now it is cold in the mornings, so I put on one of Larry's yard work jackets.  Gray Belgium Army surplus things. 

First I took the dead morning glory vines off the carriage lamp.  Tossed the ones from last year which never got sorted for seeds.  Trimmed the roses back, cut up the burlap and wrapped the base of the bushes.  Probably not well enough, but better than nothing.  I sat on the ground and started pulling bindweed, and then began sobbing.  There's so much to do, and I have so little energy and so much pain.

Then, I get a message from a friend.  She is worried, moved to get up and dressed, because she feels MyLarry is urging her.  Something about an umbrella, rain, and a storm is coming.  This thought will not leave her alone.  Well, he was sort of dyslexic, and mulberry and umbrella translate into coverings visually and share letters.  I had a lunch date with other friends, for Veterans Day, but she still came over and handled the leaves for me.  Mowed the crap outta them.  She took a few things things too, more sleeping bags, a pair of Larry's muck boots, and the old Arabic grain measures which had been in my parents kitchen.  Those are near a hundred years old or more.   

Now I do not really believe in an afterlife, but Larry's presence is still here, and still moving people and the environment around me.  It is strange, and weird, and probably my imagination, but wonderful and comforting.  I am beginning to get why some people believe.  


Saturday, November 10, 2018

Upticks and annoyances

I broke a tooth.  Probably cracked it on Halloween candy, but the Coffee Toffee ice cream candy chunk snapped the back all the way off.  The filling stayed, it didn't hurt, but for a repair it meant a full crown.  The dentist had an EZBake tooth maker, so it was done all in one session.  My share of the cost?  Over $500.  That sucks.  While the crown was "baking", I could feel the numb wearing off.  Needed a second shot to keep the nerves quiet.  He must have hit something deep; I was dizzy for the rest of the day, near drunk.  When I tried using my metal straw, if I had it in the middle of my lips, it felt like a flat oval, not a round cylinder.  Yet my lips did not feel numb at all!  Weird.

Digging out assorted drawers and caches.  So many chargers.  So many. 

I connected with the niece who works at a thrift/second hand shop.  She took a bag of clothes already, and can take other items which are too good to toss, but I have no use for.  If they cannot be used, they can go into an appropriate dumpster instead of my patio!  This is wonderful, a relief.  Now to convince people that many of the things I have to offer will enhance their lives, before I send them away.

I made a pie with aging ingredients from the pantry.  Not bad.  I have a crockpot going, using up the freezer and canned foods.  I still munch and graze too much, but I am reeling it back in. 

This morning I shaved my legs and pits.  I guess I can do stuff for myself after all. 

Still lonely.  So lonely.  I don't want company, and I most sincerely do not want to be cheered up.  I am talked out, speaking to people makes me cry.  I just hate not being able to tell Larry little things, like Gray the Cat has returned after a long absence.  

Tuesday, November 6, 2018

Green beans and landmines

I had a lazy day, but I also got some "normal" stuff done.  Washed the towels.  Arranged the cans of sparkling water and soda in the pantry.  Yesterday, I made my cranberry-apple chutney.  Put away the clean dishes.  Boxed up our old glasses to send to Lions for donation.  Tried to call DFAS, they're sending paper checks. More sorting Larry's things.  Gave Eve some of Larry's old long sleeve t-shirts for work.  We did get the Halloween stuff up in the shed.  I took down a couple 12v coolers with no cords, and a weird box with a styrofoam liner.  Can I sell these things?  Probably not.   A lot of little dammits.

This morning, I zapped a strawberry mug cake for breakfast.  So much easier than pancakes.  Hit the spot.  For lunch, I was ambitious.  Got the pack of breaded chicken out of the freezer, and a Tasty Bites pouch of brown rice and lentils, and a can of green beans.  A real meal.  First one in over two months.  I didn't cry until I was done eating and was putting the dishes in the sink.  Larry loved green beans, there's a ton of them in the can racks, cut, kitchen cut, French style.  So many green beans.  He liked the French style mixed with sauerkraut and his tiny pork loins in the truck's little crockpot.  Damn green beans.  Good thing I like them.  They're all Sad Green Beans though.  Dammit.

I also realized Veterans Day is on Sunday.  I like to take the bus to the free lunch at Texas Roadhouse.  A good meal, and they;re so friendly!  No bus on Sunday.  First time in years the lunch is on a weekend, so Larry could go with me.  Well.  Dammit.

And what am I going to do with 23 cans of Carnation evaporated milk which expired in May?  Larry bought a case at the BDO so I could make fudge for him.  It is fudge season now.  Dammit.

Still in the "cry at odd moments" phase.


Saturday, November 3, 2018

The rollercoaster is on another downturn.

So things were okayish.  Friends dropped by to say hi and to pick up some of Larry's things. A nice watch, some gloves and hats. His high-vis hoodie. I got into the deep freeze and sent the hot dogs and pulled pork and larger packs of meat home with them.  Stuff I usually don't eat, or are simply too much in one pack.  He lifted the turkey out for me so I could see what's in the milk crate below.  Dozens of Larry's little pork loin roasts he had prepacked to cook on the road.  I will be eating Sad Stew all winter. 

I charged up the battery for his coolpix camera.  Dammit.  Pictures from Loreto, pictures all the way back to the snorkel trip in Hawaii.  2017 to 2012. 

In the afternoon, another friend took me on errands.  Picked up my new glasses, one pair wasn't right.  The tech forgot to put down the lens tint, so that pair goes back.  Mailed a package, then went to Winco.  I forgot to buy fresh yogurt to make yogurt with.  My back and hips started to act up.  I basically just lost it once we got home.

This morning is dreadful.  I miss Larry hard today.  The leaves are falling, that stupid branch is still on the roof, he should be outside puttering.  I just plain miss his bustle.  He doesn't feel present today at all. 





Thursday, November 1, 2018

That went well enough.

Halloween.  Not a holiday Larry and I always got to spend together, so not a huge potential gut punch.  I wore my light up earrings, my light up gloves, and my light up shoes, once the shoes were charged.  I had candy and chocolate and tiny toys in a nice big bowl; I let the kids pick out their own two pieces.  Maybe a couple dozen kids, most in great costumes, and all very polite and friendly.  It was fun, even though I was done by 8.  My nephew Jared and his family came by, and so did a couple friends.  Overall, nice.

I put Larry's packs os Spearmint gum in the candy mix.  Full sugar five packs.  The kids were delighted.  Good choice.  I have plenty of leftover candy, but not too much.  I used to bag it up and send it with Larry on the truck.  Damn. 

But still, middle of the night, I miss Larry.  The doorbell quit working, and it takes stupid D cell batteries.  The ones inside are rechargeables, so now I have to find the big recharger.  I know where it should be.  Ha.  Hahahaha. Ha.  Thanks, honey.

I found one of Larry's little seasoned roasts he bagged up and froze to put in his slow cooker on the truck.  Thawing it now.  I guess I will start using the smaller crockpot now.  He loved slow cooked meals.  I do too, but only know how to do the big batches.  A new opportunity for learning, eh?

It is raining.  That feels appropriate.

So lonely.  I could have a thousand visitors and still feel this lonely.  Damn.




Tuesday, October 30, 2018

What is this?

So Saturday evening, my friends took me to Rocky Horror Picture Show.  I dressed as the Criminologist, of course, I have the costume from doing the shadowcast at Burning Man.  Won a prize, two tickets to  The Greatest Show on Earth singalong.  Huh.

I was worried I would be miserable. Saturday was the 27th, the two month anniversary.  RHPS had been a thing we did together.  I was sad, but only got teary eyed once or twice.  I was not miserable.  I had a good time.  I am not used to having a good time, it caught me off guard.

Sunday I had to do the prep for a colonoscopy.  This is very distracting.  I didn't think about Larry much at all.  Some, and I was sad. but I didn't have a weeping breakdown.  True, I had the gasping tears for a few moments now and then, but mostly watched crappy kids Halloween TV between being hungry as hell and running to the bathroom. 

Monday, I was sad, and got choked up talking to Dr. Foley, but I didn't feel crushed.  I was able to have breakfast in the cafeteria after and didn't dwell on the hours I had spent there while Larry was upstairs dying.  It was mostly just breakfast with Callie.

Oh, I am still very sad, I miss Larry with the totality of my being, physically and emotionally.  Yet something feels like it popped, or released, is is broken.  All the stuff I need to do feels distant. His closet, the garage, the patio, his leatherwork, the candles, the soldering station.  It doesn't matter as much today. This feeling is akin to apathy or disinterest tinged with unhappiness.  I don't not care, but the stress is taking a hiatus. I dread the unguarded moment the grief will sink in sharp little teeth, and rip my guts into gaping wounds.  Or not.  Right now, it feels like not. 

I am puzzled.  I thought I was headed into some rough territory and instead, I feel resigned.  Am I broken?


Saturday, October 27, 2018

10/27. 1120 am.

Yeah, sure the waves might not be crashing as often, or be as high and hard, but what that analogy never tells is you the simmering feelings in between, the anger, the rage, the irritation, the loneliness, the confusion when you want to tell him something and he isn't there, and is never going to be there again, and that gut deep grief which never quite recedes completely.

Two months. Feels like two lifetimes. Or one intertwined charmed life torn in twain, roughly, without care or thought or meaning.

Waiting for the "it gets better" part.


Wednesday, October 24, 2018

Shutting down, strange times in this town.

There's been a lot of closings and demolition in Ogden and the area.  Some of this began before we even new Larry was ill, but with his passing, it feels unsettling to see what else has departed.

Sears, of course.  Larry rushed to get batteries for his power tools on sale.  That's not a good sign for the mall.  We knew Tandy's was moving, but I haven't seen the store in the location which was advertised.  The old building is gone.  Golden Dynasty is "Available".  That will be torn down, no doubt at all.  Dean's Automotive where Larry parked has been sold.  They let Nate park there for a few hours, but just this once.  Nate says all the WalMart in Idaho drops are gone, and that he had to take runs which do not pay as well so he could have weekends off with his family. 

Our favorite Denny's is gone, and TGIF, although happened some time ago.  Our Big 5 became a car dealership.  So did the eternally going out of business furniture and mattress place.  That was before, but it feels like it fits.  Like Eastside Diner becoming a Starbucks.  The hardware store by the dollar store on Washington.  The diner with pies that Dad liked.  The cool German place on 25th.

I know, life goes on, progress moves forward, but damn. I feel left behind.

Monday, October 22, 2018

Struggling with the WHY.

Oof. I want a positive blog.  This morning I wrote checks to put in the mail, one for the new rain gutter downspouts, one for the Pineview water on the property tax.  I washed the icky playa towels.  Put away clean dishes.  As usual, fed the cats, meds, scooped the litter boxes.  Watched some recorded TV.  Think I have found Logan's gauntlets.  Took the laundry downstairs. Took Larry's shoes out of the front room and put them in an empty bin in the spare room. 

But I cannot quit crying.  Oh, it is on and off, but racking when it comes.  I cannot figure out WHY.  Why should I do anything?  Why should I care?  No one cares about how the house looks, or if the trash is out, or if I let the dishes and laundry pile up because I have enough clothes and dishes to last for months. Sure, I have to keep the bills together if I want to keep my home, and a semi-civilized exterior appearance.  WHY.  Why did Larry die?  What makes sense about THAT?  Nothing.  No reason at all.  He was vibrant and active and healthy.  Now he is dead and the WHY escapes me.  He took care of me.  I took care of him.  We took care of the house and work and chores and cooking and mundane crap for each other. For each other's happiness.  Now, I struggle with WHY.  Why should I care without him?  What am I alone?

Sure, people care about me, but on quiet mornings, it is hard to hear anything but the rustle of leaves in the street.  I care about myself, selfishly, but the WHY of my existence is elusive.  The world is horrible. My little corner of the world is dismal.  WHY did my charmed life turn into a soggy circle of Hell?

No, I am not suicidal.  That is madness and I am not up for that.  No worries.

I guess my why is going to be to see how everything plays out.  Why should I care?  Because I do want a comfy home, for myself and for the cats. I do want to make and create again. I suppose I will pull it together eventually, somehow.  I am a tough old bird.  I don't want to be, though, I want to be Larry's love, pampered and cared for. 

Fuck you, Universe, fuck you sideways with a chainsaw.  If I could find it, fuel it, and get it to run.  Fuck. 



Sunday, October 21, 2018

What dreams ...

10/21.  Two months since he went into the hospital for that last time. 

Last night I dreamt I was sitting on the bench at the end of the bed. Larry came in, dressed in his coveralls, like he does when it is cold out. He crouched down and told me all the things he was working on. I put my hands on his face, I could feel his beard beneath my fingers. "But, honey," I said, "you're dead, you can't do that."
"I know, but I don't have time for all that stuff. It can wait. You need me and there's work to do."

Yeah, that's Larry.  

And I can't find his overalls...

Saturday, October 20, 2018

So There's That.

Today I was supposed to go to Infinite Possibilities.  I cannot.  I always went with Larry, it was always a date.  I do not want to go alone.  I do want to see people, but I haven't the strength to do it in that context. 

I sewed the lace feathers on my Odin hat while watching Thor Ragnarok.  I put clean sheets on the bed.  I paid the last medical bill for Larry's last stay.  $150 co-pay on a bill of over $46K.  Thank you, honey, for working so hard in the Navy so we have excellent healthcare.  I pulled Larry's gloves and motorcycle gauntlets and beanies out of the scarf drawer.  Dammit.  I took the unopened Walking Dead DVDs downstairs; he will never see them.  I washed my hair with his shampoo, and can hardly wait until it is gone. It is good for my hair, but I dislike the scent.  I'm too cheap to toss it. So there's that. 

Yesterday Desi took me on errands, I got a flu shot (and cried, I was always with Larry), mailed a package (Larry's Chewie onesie he never got to wear), and went to the commissary.  I did not cry at the commissary for once.  And then Michael's, where I did not cry, just got a little choked up.  Called Massage Envy to unfreeze my membership, and had a good cry because the girl helping me remembered Larry and his bowties, and how wonderful he was. 

I need to go outside to do things.  I do not want to.  I might not.  I need to get things ready for wet cold weather.  Fuck it.

This is a new crying phase.  He is not coming back, he is not on the road, or on deployment.  He is gone.  He won't carry the laundry up or refill the litter jug.  He won't be arranging things endlessly outside.  I don't need to be sure the sheets and blankets are on his side evenly.  I can leave crap sitting around and he isn't here to kvetch at me.  I don't have to cook dinner, I can have yogurt.  He isn't here to take me on drives and complain we have too much to do.  No more Saturday morning sex.  We always had morning sex on weekends and turned on the TV to the classic rock music station.  I can't turn on that station now. 

I hate this part.  Weeping way too much becomes physically painful and upsets my tummy.  I cannot breathe.  I know, it gets better.  I just really, really hate the process.  I hate Bad Days.



Thursday, October 18, 2018

No Zero Days

I learned this phrase from someone with chronic illness and depression.  I've never been the type to languish in bed all day, but I found the concept useful.  After my surgeries, and now in this confusing time, the zero days is something I cling to.

A zero day means you didn't even get your basic life tasks accomplished for the day.  Everyone has a different level of zero, so you need to create your own definition, your own checklist.  For me, the goal would be to expand my definition of zero.

Here's what my zero, and my zero plus, looks like.

First and foremost, feed the cats and make sure they have their medicine twice a day.  Punkin is very vocal about her breakfast, so she's a built in reminder.

Next, make sure I have coffee and my water pill, followed by hot food and my supplements.

Shower and dress.  I might not stay dressed all day, but I do dress.  Hair washing is only every three or four days, and a struggle when I'm achey. 

Scoop the cat box.  Since I had foster cats downstairs, Harry won't use the basement box anymore.  If I don't keep the upstairs box clean, he poops on the little rug next to it.

The dishes.  Doing the dishes is my absolute must do.  I missed that yesterday.  There's clean dishes in the dishwasher, and three dishes and two drink glasses in the sink.  That's a minus for me.  I rarely miss doing the dishes, I hate stuff in my sink.  I always wash the cats' plates though, twice a day.

Spread up the bed, put dirty clothes in the hamper/basket.  Do laundry as needed, fold it and put it away.  Not daily, but something to not let get out of hand. 

Mail.  Bring in and sort the mail.  Throw away the junk immediately.  Deal with the rest usually takes me a day or three. 

Bring in the stupid newspaper.  Look at it, throw it away.  Clip coupons. 

Trash.  No trash left sitting around.  No food left out either.  Throw away the coffee filter. 

Pay the damn bills.  I keep a paper brain for this.  I missed one bill already this month.  Yikes.

Zero plus is adding more basic chores.  Vacuum the front room, sweep the kitchen, answer emails, water the houseplants, scrub the toilet.  I killed my rosemary plant while Larry was ill.  Tidy up. Wipe off the fridge and dishwasher.

Cook or bake.  I might zap food, but actually cooking is a step up.

If I am really on top of things, I clean the stove and the tub.  I hate these chores.  Then there's dusting.  Ugh.  So much dust.  Filters, water, swamp cooler, furnace. 

Then there's outdoor chores.  Ugh.  Larry usually did them, but I did the weeding and bird feeding.  Poor little things must be hungry.

Then there's painting, and sewing, and other crafty stuff.  This takes energy and concentration.  I am on short supply on both.  Getting there, one step at a time.

Spa stuff.  My skin hates me now.

Exercise?  Ha.  Hahahahaha.  

Wednesday, October 17, 2018

Gratitude

I really should take notes because my brain is not doing the memory things well.  For all my complaining, I am grateful for the many friends and loved ones in my life.

Grateful for Jeremy who was able to be there for the worst of times, and who makes sure to call to check in as often as he can.  Grateful to the Jareds for mowing the lawn, and for helping to organize the patio (there's three Jareds and a Jill...).  Grateful to Desi and Orrin for taking good care of me on down days and during the hard tasks, and for the commissary runs.  Grateful for Ford and Krista for being there for us at Burning Man, for seeing me through some difficult days, and for all the love always.  Grateful for Nate for coming to help, and for taking me shooting, even though it is a pain in the ass with his schedule.  Grateful to Nikki and Matt and the kids for the hard work and getting the cat room clean and so much more.  Grateful to Mel for giving the foster kitties an amazing home.  Grateful to Callie for the outstanding cupcakes.  Grateful to Logan for organizing the fire evening, and for those who could be here.  Grateful for Mendy who took all those sleeping bags. Grateful to Annie for the lovely visit even though she was tired and needed to be home.  Grateful for the Utah Bottle Collectors who took my brother's collection.  Grateful to Jessie who came and listened to stories about stuff in the house.  Grateful to my many friends and online friends who have stayed in touch, who support me, and who donated generously in many ways, too many to list coherently.  Grateful to Drea for the chocolate opportunity.  Grateful for Kari who always has my back. Grateful for Eric and his family who came to visit and took me to a lovely lunch.  Grateful for good neighbors.  Grateful for Brett at the funeral home.  Grateful for the palliative care team, who truly did care for me too.  Grateful for the caring CNA whose name I have forgotten. Grateful for an internet stranger who sent a funny card.  Grateful for the gate guards at Swift who thought to send a card.  Grateful for most of the professionals on the phone who are kind.  Grateful for Kam who brought me a burger.  Grateful for Lonny's girlfriend who makes sure he can call me now and then. Grateful to Ruth who is making the memory quilt from Larry's t-shirts.  Grateful for a lot more, and I know I'm forgetting some people.   If I forgot you, it is the fog, I'm still grateful.

Thank you, my village.  I love you all.

Seven weeks and two days

Everything in increments, and still riding the waves and the rolls, the unexpected pitfalls and holes beneath my feet.

The anger is showing up.  I don't like the hot spiky feeling, like a sweater full of prickly spiky things against my skin.  Larry, why did you need to keep every stupid thing?  The plastic hamper I asked you to toss.  The dead batteries for your drills.  Every scrap of wood in the world?  And where is your kitten bowtie? 

I forgot to pay the credit card bill.  Only missed by a day, I don't see an interest charge, but have the feeling it is there.  Lost my Amazon points for the month.  $18 isn't much, but it stings. I was always on top of things.

His birthday was Monday, and I think I shut my head off for a couple days.  I got a couple little things done, and Nate came and did the swamp cooler, and helped with the rain barrel.  The Mother Art Box is done, the teak roll up table is in progress, and the Gift Box is next.  A little at a time.  Not enough,  Never enough.

Lonny called, but we got cut off.  There's a letter on the way, I will be able to write one back.  I will cry.  I am getting sick of crying.

I ran out of bread and didn't feel like making pancakes or waffles, so I went down and moved stuff off the deep freeze.  Sometimes there's bread in there.  There was a bag of the long rolls Larry used to get from the clearance rack at Smith's for his sandwiches.  Yes, I cried.  The rolls, the hot dogs, all the stuff which is more Larry food than my food.  Damn freezer made me cry.

So much is changing.  Sears closed before he died, Dean's Automotive is closing so his parking space for the semi was gone.  Golden Dynasty is closed.  Nate says the WalMart runs are gone, so his work schedule would have changed drastically.  I feel like the whole world has shifted around me in time with Larry's passing.

I miss him so much.  

Thursday, October 11, 2018

The Sads

I simple cannot shake the sadness.  I think it is too soon, that I am not supposed to be anything but sad or distracted at this point.  But it sucks so bad. Walking Dead makes me sad because we bought the DVDs so Larry could catch up, and he did not.  The piles of Burning Man crap on the patio make  sad because Larry would have put them away.  Halloween makes me sad because Larry would have had my decorations up by now.  The garden solar lights make me sad.  Needing to go to Costco and Winco makes me sad.  The broken branch on the garage roof makes me sad.  The Toro leaf sucker which needs a new bag makes me sad.  The swamp cooler makes me sad.

IT ALL FUCKING SUCKS AND I CANNOT STOP BEING SAD AND UPSET.  I MISS LARRY.

Saturday, October 6, 2018

October is already so fucking hard.

I put away the summer silk flowers today, and got the autumn ones up in the living room and kitchen.  I just need to get the pumpkin tea set out and put it on the baker's rack, along with the squirrel and the squash.  I turned on the furnace today too, and put the kid skeleton on the front porch.

And then I burst into tears.

Larry should be on the roof, winterizing the swamp cooler.  He'd be putting away the blue glass gazing globes, and the yard ornaments, the egg, and globe, and turtle, and the glass solar lights.  We would be hanging up the Halloween decorations on the front of the house, and the lights in the big picture window.  Setting the fake pumpkins out.  Prepping the fire pit. Setting the diversion pipe for the rain barrel.  I should hear him rattling around, Arrow 103.5 on hs solar radio.

Next weekend we were supposed to have a couple romantic nights at Wolf Creek for his birthday.  Last year we were in Victoria.  How could we know it was the last big trip together?

Dammit.  I miss him so much.  None of this feels worthwhile alone.

Update: a lot of the chores are done; I have fabulous friends.  Still, Larry worked hard to keep our home and our stuff nice.  It takes damn near a village to replace him.

Monday, September 24, 2018

Sad today, sadder than usual.

I think I am hitting a hard wall now I has less "adulting" to do, fewer immediate tasks, a lot of waiting.  The sad is waiting to catch me unawares, and it did a fine job this day.  I made a call, decided another didn't need to be made, put off Comcast some more.  And then I had nothing to do but chores.  Chores make me sad, because it feels unimportant now.  I know, but I am in the everything feels futile phase.

I watered the front lawn this morning, which was sad because the corner sprinkler the neighbors run over needs attention.  I have little idea of what to do. 

I am sad because the metal recycle bucket is full, and I don't know how I'll do the cash recycling. 

Breakfast made me sad.  I am very nearly finished with the raspberry jam; it is the very last jar of Larry's terrific jam from our berries.   The kitchen is making me sad because I got out the rice cereal and the marshmallows to make the treats Larry always made, but I just cannot. 

Lunch made me sad because it was Larry's ham slices with green beans and rice.  I think I've been avoiding meals like the ones we used to eat together.  I have a lot of green beans, I hope they don't end up as cans of sadness forever.

I got my new credit card from NFCU and that made me sad because Larry is no longer on the account.

Simon got Larry's patch jacket today, and sent a picture.  It fits him perfectly in every way, just as I knew it would.  A wizard's cloak must go to another wizard.  And that made me cry. 

I packed up a box for a friend with a jacket which did not make me sad, but I put in the t-shirt Larry got for me at a truckstop with his rewards points.  We were on a road trip to Lake Havasu.  That was our very last vacation.  The shirt made me sad and I never want to wear it. 

I finally wrote to Lonny.  Fucking sad.  So fucking sad.


Sunday, September 23, 2018

Living in the clutches of grief.

My new roommate is Grief.  While emotional pain of loss is totally expected, the depths and shallows, ebb and flow, and unexpected jump scares of Grief is something you can read about, learn about, and talk about, but never know until Grief takes up intimate residence in the absence of a loved one. Grief is a physical presence.

I find Grief painful and exhausting.  I do not sleep well, Grief wakes me at add times and does not let my monkey brain rest.  Music is not soothing, it brings tears.  Grief has spoiled all my favorite songs.  I used to love End of the Line by the Traveling Wilburys, now that song is a cruel jest.  I wake too early in the morning, and am so sleepy in the afternoon I need a nap.  Some days that nap just segues into bedtime with only brief moments to feed cats, tidy up, read the mail, close curtains, do a few dishes.  Chores are done piecemeal, one step at a time.  It is a good day if I can tackle more than the basics.  What was routine now feels like I am chipping away at a mountain of granite. 

The mail.  Grief resides in my mailbox every day.

I have headaches.  My eyes get irritated from tearing up, my nose and throat raw from snuffling, from coughing and moaning aloud.  The muscles in my neck and shoulders remain knotted.  My back aches.  I cannot breathe freely and fully.  A hot bath is little relief, the drain isn't working right and I can't ask Larry to fix it.

Grief has stolen my appetite.  I eat, I try to use up what is in the house, which is a lot of food.  While I am queasy, generally I don't have the gut distress I associated with being tense.  My stomach and bowels simply do not care and have given up.  Balanced meals do not appeal, a protein bar or shake and coffee will do.  Hydration makes me sad, really, because all my good water bottles are covered with Burning Man stickers and wrist bands.

I wear a caul of irritation and stress over my head, swirling down my shoulders, arms, and back.  Like a veil, I can feel the presence like gauze and black lace blocking light and joy and comfort.

Sometimes Grief takes a stroll around the block, I am okay, I do things, I breathe.  Then like a bad horror film, Grief jumps out of a drawer, from behind the closet door, from a photo or piece of clothing or scrap of paper.  Fuck you, Grief. 

I know this is temporary, but damn, I am weary.  

Friday, September 21, 2018

Solitude is one thing, loneliness, a different beast altogether.

I am used to solitude; I have been all my life. I was a solitary child, a reader of books and a contented day dreamer.  All the years Larry and I were married, the Navy and his work as a driver meant days apart. I was always good knowing he would return.  He was in my heart if not my arms.  I kept house, I did the laundry, made the meals, organized the finances, cuddled the cats.  Home was ready and waiting for him.  When he was home, we'd run errands together, a commissary run was a date, we'd go to lunch or brunch, we'd run up the canyon now and then.  When he'd work in the yard, I could hear his radio and his clatter, and he'd come in to drag me out to see his latest projects, often meant for my pleasure or convenience. Sunday evenings were often fire practice, and we'd chat or listen to music on the drive.  We would honeymoon two or three times a year to make up for those first two years apart.  We were friends.

And now, the house is big and quiet.  I still have cats to cuddle and feed.  I still clean, but it doesn't seem to matter as much and there is no deadline.  I cook, but only for myself.  I am slowly unearthing items in the freezer meant for hearty meals he enjoyed.  There's a damn turkey too.  Right now I am eating the ham he got at Carl's SuperSaver for some ridiculous price and sliced up to make sandwiches for his lunch.  Thick slices, one is a meal for me, and there's two packs he made up.  I weep.  I am on the very last jar of the jam he made.

I do laundry, but there's no rush.  I take out the trash, right now the cans fill quickly because I am sorting out a ton of crap, but that will slow to a trickle.  I am using only the top rack of the dishwasher.  I still hang two towels on the the towel rack.  I am dismayed at the amount of paper plates and bowls he had on the truck.  Whatever shall I do?  Have picnics?

I browse Amazon, wondering if the higher prices are worth not having to ask or pay for rides.  People want to help me, but sharing the shopping experience is hard. Desi takes me to the commissary, and she knows how to give me my space, and how to be present when I need her to be.  She is not Larry though.  I pretty much have quit clipping coupons; I eat different things when left to my own devices.  I skipped this Friday's free download from Smith's; Hormel Compleats were entirely his thing.

You'd think nights would be worst, but no, it is the middle of the day, when his presence lingers in every room. In the morning, when I only make two cups of coffee instead of a full pot.  When the mail comes in, addressed to him.  The Tandy Leather flyer, reminding me I probably won't ever go there again.  The cans of sparkling water and weird sodas in the fridge from the BDO, another shopping destination which was on the "errands date" rotation.  The Rumbi Grill two for one ads; we went to Rumbi's a lot.  The No Frills Diner punch card.

When I want to pick up the phone and tell him how stupid hard the paperwork is, how frustrated I am, how the guy came and sprayed the yellow jacket ground nests and gave me a military discount.

Being alone never bothered me, it is that no matter how much company I have, or help from friends I get, I will ultimately never stop being alone when all is said and done.  Being alone forever is much lonelier than being alone for hours, or days, or weeks.  I know in an abstract way that it will get better, but being without Larry is not what I consider better in the slightest.  

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

Widowhood, into the unknown

This is so damn difficult. 

I don't even know if I can digest it all to regurgitate here.  Paperwork.  So much paperwork.  Anything with his name attached must be changed over to just mine.  The house, the insurances, the phone, banking, our timeshare points. At least the utilities are in my name.  Life insurance, 401K, VA, DFAS, DEERS, SS.  I know there's more, but the brain goes numb.  His clothes, his shoes.  Throw out the underwear and the toothbrush.  Cancel future doctor's appointments.  Look at his leatherworking stuff, his candlemaking, his soldering station in my living room, his jam and crispy treat making stuff.  His booze.  His jackets and hats by the back door.  The fucking garage.  The Harley, the broken scooter, the two four wheeled bikes which are too heavy for me alone.  His firewood, his metal recycling.  His tools. 

Ah, his hammocks.

And his chores, finding friends or paid professionals for the outdoor stuff beyond my physical abilities.  The house repairs and upgrades we neglected.  Who will want to put up Christmas lights on the roof?  Who can run the big ass snowblower, or shovel?

Figuring out the budget.  Figuring out how much I eat by myself.  That's not much.  Bed picnics and eating standing up in the kitchen.  Laundry is different now.  Cancelled all his TV shows set to record.  Put away his lunch cooler and his water bottles.

Trying to have ready answers when people ask what I need.  I know, but I don't always know when asked.  I need Larry.

Monday, August 27, 2018

Fair Winds and Following Seas

This morning I dragged myself up to McKay Dee.  I stayed away Sunday, as this cold had me dribbling and ripping and puking.  After a load of Tylenol and Benadryl (Mexican benadryl FTW), I took a Lyft. When I got to the room, I saw Jeremy had made a bed of the recliner chair, and had pushed it next to Larry.  He had stayed all night with him.

As the morning wore on, the nurse came in with morphine and more morphine.  We took off the oxygen mask as it wasn't doing much. There were other drugs, mostly to relax his breathing and make him not so mucous-y.  Spoke with the nurse practitioner, shared some photos in my photobooks.  Discussed options.  He said he couldn't give us a time but thought it might be in the afternoon.

Larry's breathing became more erratic.  Jeremy sat taking his pulse.  I sat on the other side and held Larry's right hand, also keeping a finger on his pulse.  His heart was beginning to slow and skip.  He gasped, and his heart stopped.  The he gasped again, and his heart beat a couple more times.  And again.  And again. "Dude, seriously?"  Each time his heart stopped longer and longer between.  Finally, he quit drawing breath, his heart stopped beating at all,.  Larry was gone.  1120, the nurse practitioner was almost correct. 

The aids came in and cleaned his up and put on fresh linens and a fresh gown.  They were very caring.  We wait for the eye donor nurse, ad she did a lovely job.  His eyes will help someone in need, and further research.  We waited for the mortuary men.  They looked very Mormon in their suits and ties.  As we left, I noticed the body bag on the gurney intended for Larry was a plush burgundy velvet with gold zippers.  Fancy.  I got a good long hug from one of the aids, whose name I am blanking on.  She had cared for Larry when he was in for his biopsy too.  Like most who met him, she adored him quickly.  That was nice.

This was a wicked quick cancer.  Just a week ago he was still talking to us.  A few days before that, he was up and walking around.  My head and heart have not caught up. 

Fuck cancer.  We had a charmed life, and were going to spend the last of our years traveling.  Looks like I'm a solo act now, the Third Widow.  Whatever shall I do with myself?

Saturday, August 25, 2018

No rainbows on this horizon

Larry was tired during E-11, and in pain from his shoulder and neck.  We thought he has heat exhaustion.

To cut to the chase, he has lung cancer. It spread rapidly into his spine, liver, kidneys, and adrenal glands.  Hs is lying in McKay-Dee, with a catheter and IVs, running fevers, with pneumonia, in pain, so much pain.  Hasn't eaten in days, is largely non-verbal or unaware, usually restless.  We only get so many days as inpatient.  But he cannot go to a skilled nursing facility if he needs a sitter, and he does.  He tries to get up, he tries to pull out his IV or cath.  They have no in patient hospice care.  I need to double check, but if I pull such measures as his antibiotics and saline intake, and they're only treating for pain, they have to discharge him.  If so, he goes to home hospice.  HOME.  With a hospital bed in that tiny front room (where do I move the stuff to? How?) and ungrounded outlets, and no door into the hall, and no AC, and with only 35 hours a week of professional medical assistance. What the fuck good does that do him?  And I am fairly certain I will crack. 

If I had a pet in so much pain, I'd be at the vet, sending them over the Rainbow Bridge with love and kindness.

Fuck this.

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

Summertime and the living is meh

Time for As You Wish, the regional burn.  Things are going well enough.  Working on Poems of Unusual Size, and Needful Things, and going to fire practice every Sunday.  Just got placement for Burning Man, 630 and Elektro.  Really, really need to get the art off the ground.  It wouldn't be summer if I weren't panicking about not enough art ....

Monday, March 19, 2018

Arise, my shambling blog.

Yeah, I think I should do this more.  Eighteen months is far too long to let this languish, untouched, unread, unloved.

And damn, do I have a lot to blather about.  More tomorrow, work up to it.