Category Archives: Grief

Waxing Poetic

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Weather in the Tries:
Well, we’re going to miss that huge cold front that is covering parts of Idaho and east and south. Not that we’ll be in the clear, our lows will range from 23 30, and our highs from 35 to 41. Sun will show for a few days, but the two warmest days will be cloudy. Those clouds do hold in the heat. 

Waxing Poetic:
I don’t very often wax poetic over a product I’ve bought and use, but this one absolutely amazed me. I figured the possibility of being taken for a ride existed, but that’s not the case. 

A bit of backstory. I’ve always loved long hair, but when I let it grow out as long as it is now, I got 24/7 headaches because my hair was so thick and course and heavy. It self-parted in the middle and flared out like Gilda Radner’s, except on her it was cute, on me—not so much. So I got my hair cut short, and kept it short for 25 years. 

In many Tribal Cultures, when a loved one dies, people cut their hair. When Thomas died my hair was very short, so I decided to let my hair grow. About a year ago, if that, I began to notice when I combed or brushed it, gobs of hair came out, and my hair was much finer that it was. Well, I let my hair grow, and fall, and grow and fall, and eventually it began to dawn on me that I was headed for male pattern baldness. Now, I’ve always been somewhat jealous of women who have high foreheads, but somehow I didn’t think this was the way I wanted to get one.

So I started looking for shampoos to stop hair loss. Frankly, I don’t care if what I’ve lost grows back, but I do care that the loss ceases and desists! I ended up buying an expensive (for me—I’m normally a Suave kinda gal) shampoo and conditioner. I used it once, and when I combed my hair afterwards, I had about a fourth of the usual amount of hair in my comb. And it’s been going down since. What is this marvelous product you may be wondering? It’s Routine Wellness Anti-Thinning shampoo and conditioner.

Like the stuff I use to help my hair curl, the product that works for me, may not for you, but if you’re facing the same hair loss situation, I think Routine Wellness is worth a try. If it doesn’t work for you, mail it to me.

Fact: 
by replacing your morning coffee with Green tea, you can lose up to 89% of what little joy you still have left in your life.

There is a Filipino fast-food chain in LA called Jollibee. They were seen serving free food to people affected by the wildfires. Just quietly setting up tables and boxed food for those who need it. HUZZAH! HUZZAH! Jollibee. Jollibee’s motto is “Joy is best when shared.” During a lot of sad, a little bit of joy is certainly welcome, especially food.

Some places to which you may want to contribute. I am not saying you should, or you should donate to these, I’m just saying these are places I know about and have contributed to or will contribute to.

1. California Fire Foundation

2. Los Angeles Regional Food Bank

3. Latino Community Foundation

4. California Community Foundation:

5. Los Angeles Wildfire Book Donation Check them out. They are seeking books MG, YA, etc., for both schools and students who have lost books in the fire. I have several books I’ve never sold, guess where they are going, if they’re wanted. 

6. Jollibee Fast Foods—if you live in an area where they are, and can afford it, please consider buying something and maybe pay for a couple extra meals for those affected by the fire.

Photo of the Week:

Holy Moon. Actually, it’s the Wolf Moon, first full moon of the year. Using my phone, it was over-exposed so I thought I’d play with it in Photos, I started messing around with colors, etc., and ended up with this shot, with a flaming halo around Grandmother Moon (hence the Holy).

from the desk of the sad dog;
I am so sad for the humans and fur and feathered people who have lost their homes in the big fires. I hope they weren’t too scared and all got out okay. my human said that people died, and she didn’t tell me, but I’m afraid too many pets didn’t know where to go, and all the wildlife. well, I’ll try not to think of it. and if I ask my human, she’ll cry, again, so I won’t ask her. I hope all of you are safe, and all your friends and families are, too. 

Quote of the Week:
I don’t have a link for this, I it copied out of a Substack article by Faisal Kutty on Zeteo about the fires and the heroism of his LA neighbors. A colleague sent him a message making his guest rooms available to Mr. Kutty and his family, here is part of what the colleague wrote: “We have two empty bedrooms—one with a single bed, but we can add a futon, and the other with a double bed. Food is kosher and hence halall…” (emphasis mine). If I remember correctly, he said kids were welcome. I have apparently gotten so used to the Israeli’s giving the Palestinians nothing but death, and I find it amazing, if not miraculous, to read that a kosher Jew is offering his Muslim colleague love, a place to stay, and food he and his family can eat, really made my day. 

You Undoubtedly Noticed

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Weather in the Tries: 
Cold

You Undoubtedly Noticed:
I didn’t post a blog last week! I was with a couple of friends who died, one on Wednesday and the other on Monday. They weren’t close friends, but they were friends.

And then I read an article in (I think) the London Times by a man who was nine years old when his mother was diagnosed with cancer. I don’t remember what happened to Dad, but he wasn’t there. And this young boy became a primary care giver for his mom. She died when he was thirteen. He would take care of her in the morning, before school, and rush home to take care of her after school. He did everything, and when the pain got to be too much, she was taken to a psychiatric hospital, where she spent her last weeks without pain meds, and he would come buy every day on his way home from school to be with her, to help, to care.

He is a politician now, and when the vote comes up for medical assistance in dying in the UK, he will vote against it, because he thinks every child should have the same opportunities he did, to care for his dying parent, like he did. Do watch and listen to them scream in agony. Have you ever heard such selfish drivel? Not once did he think that maybe his mom was in enough pain she would have liked to exit earlier and to spare him the agony of watching her die. Maybe he’s a sadist in disguise.

I don’t know, but I sure think he was being mighty selfish. There was another letter a few days later, by a woman, a priest of her church, I forgot her title. Her letter was a little different, but it came down to suffering is good for the soul and I guess her god likes his humans to suffer now so they won’t suffer later. 

The subject of death came up in our Death Café this afternoon. (now is that a co inky dink? or what? /snort/) and I mentioned that in this state we have Death With Dignity for those who want it and qualify. Yes, people have to jump through hoops to partake, and every effort is exerted to be sure it is what the client wants, and 2 prescribers, one a doctor, agree. And they have the right to say, “No.” at any time. One person asked me if Death With Dignity was euthanasia. Another gal said no, euthanasia is what we do for our pets. I thought that was a good response and agreed with her, and gave the patrons of our café two sites to go to for information.

I think about Death With Dignity like I think about Abortion—if you don’t want either one, don’t have it—but don’t force your god’s peccadilloes down other people’s throats. They have enough to deal with, with their gods and his peccadilloes.

So, that’s why I didn’t write a post last week. I was grieving for two new friends I’d made who died before we could even have an argument, and then read those two letters. I was in no mood to write. Anything. Deal with it.

This Week’s Photo:
Took this photo two years ago this week, at Sheryl’s home. Thomas loved this tree, and could no longer see it as it was in the back of the house, and we couldn’t get him there, so I took the picture so he could enjoy the vibrant reds second hand.

from the desk of the mighty chihuahua;
it’s really cold out, and dark. the sun doesn’t come up until after 7 in the morning, and goes away before I can eat dinner and go for my afternoon walk. my human says another month and the days will start to get longer. I think the sun should be out half the time and the stars the other half. but I’m only a dog, and I don’t get no respect.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Auntie Lenora Presents: The Toddler in Chief!

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Weather in the Tries: We had a moderately cool week. All temps were double digit! However, today, Monday, is on the schedule to be 102, and then a week of mostly low 80s. There will be one dip into high 70s. After our couple of days of nearly unbreathable smoke-filled days, we’ve gone back to Good or Moderate Air Quality. 

What an odd week has just gone by. And yet one more reminder I’m still grieving. I was late for an appointment. I’d written down it was at 10:15, which was correct. However, every time I looked at it, I saw 10:45. I always get to those appointments early, and I was there at 10:30, and they marked me as ‘missed’ and I couldn’t be worked in later in the morning. To say I was confused would be to word it mildly. 

A couple days later my Grief Group met, and when I told them, they smiled knowingly, and the Facilitator told me about Grief Brain. Apparently, it’s a thing, and Boy Howdy! did I have a case of it. Then I got to thinking, took two aspirin, and realized it’s not yet three months since he died.

Fortunately, there was a great show on the telly Thursday night that took my mind off things for a while. Like many people, I watched what there was to see of the arrest and booking of the OP. And then the county released his mug shot and I had one of the best laughs I’ve had in a while. Not that the arrest and booking of a President is funny—it isn’t, it’s really a sad commentary on us—but the shot is priceless. Reminds me of when my kids were toddlers and if  told to do something they didn’t want to do. “NO! I DON’T WANNA AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!!!

I DESERVE TO BE PRESIDENT! IT’S THE ONLY WAY I CAN STAY OUT OF JAIL AND I AM YOUR RETRIBUTION! (I’m not at all sure what that means, really. I don’t need retribution for anything. Do you?)

How sad for him. He wants to look threatening and strong and will never surrender (though he did surrender, was arrested, booked, and released on bond!) and he looks like a petulant toddler throwing a temper tantrum. I’m surprised he hasn’t taken the old Don’t Tread on Me! rattlesnake and photoshopped his mug to that.

Since I have a genuine photo of the Hot Line to Jesus, I’ll post it, in case the OP needs it. Or anyone else. I know the photo is genuine, because I took it, I did not swipe it off the web 😉

Actually, the sign was in the mall where I used to walk in the winter. It was in the food court where they were installing a new pizza place, and Jesus was the general manager, and was looking for a few good workers. I apologize for the ugly crossing out of the area code, but it is, or at least was, a working number and I couldn’t figure out how to change any of them to a fictional number.

The book, Saying Goodbye to Thomas is coming along very nicely. There are 28 poems in it. There were 27, but I took a poetry workshop on Saturday, and wrote one more. The book (sans the new poem) is out to several people who asked to read it. I hope to have everyone’s comments back in a couple of weeks so I can wind it up and start sending it out. Sheryl has sent me some very nice photos of Thomas, his niece has given permission to use one her mother, his sister, took several years ago, I have one taken during the toast before the Final Cocktail where he’s happy and smiling. I now have seven shots of Thomas, I hope I can get them arranged on the page like I want. And a possible couple more coming from a friend in Arkansas.

And, I have submitted his novelette to a publisher. Fingers crossed.

The Big Chihuahua is liking this cooler weather a lot. Still warm enough for a Desert Dog, but not so hot he melts. He still dives under the summer quilt on my bed at night, but before long he’s topside. At least until about 4a.m. when he gets cool.

On Having Thomas in My Life

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On Tuesday (that would be tomorrow), Thomas will be dead for 5 weeks. I am so fortunate to have had him in my life, and he was so fortunate he maintained his sense of humor until the very end. If all the people who wanted to be there to cheer him on, to wish him well, could have been there, the house would have split at the seams. Literally.

I am reminded of an old blog of mine, where I asked Are You Adoptable? Thomas was not only adoptable, but he was adopted by many people. More women than men, I think, but that’s okay. In fact, it’s not surprising at all. Women liked Thomas. He made us feel important when we were with him, he made us laugh, he brought all the romantic thoughts to the fore. When he was with a woman, he valued her.

When Thomas died, he was not alone—and yet he was. There were close friends there, and many close friends who wanted to be there. People wanted to be with Thomas. He made everyone important. He listened to them. He laughed with them. He was interested in them. But birthing and dying are two of life’s most momentous times, and we must travel that path alone. True, Mom isn’t far away on the former, and loved ones can hold you for the latter, but you still gotta do the heavy part all by yourself alone.

Most, dare I say all, of my good friends are adoptable. They like and love me, and I like and love them. I wish I could say ALL of my friends, but I have a couple of friends who aren’t adoptable. They whine, they are lonely, they are sitting in a corner of their house just waiting to die. That’s what old people do; isn’t it? Just sit in the dark and wait to die. Sigh.

I think I was very lucky when I was in my mid 30s. I went into a deep funk. Really deep. I started reading self-help books, and the two I remember, that really helped me was My Mother/My Self by Nancy Friday and another one the name of which eludes me, as does the author, but on the cover was a girl with her arms in the air, and she was happy. I did the exercises, well, most of them. The primal scream I didn’t. But I realized, I really had to change. Of course, the big thing that scared me no end about the self-help books is once I got to know myself, well, what if I didn’t like myself? That’s a scary thought, or at least it was for me. | Today is Friday, but my friend, Meg just gave me the title of the second book I couldn’t remember: Born to Win. Marvelous book, and marvelous friends.|

But I figured I really needed to do something, so I did it. And I figured out I was pretty okay, just needed some tweaking here and there. I became happier, I complained less, in effect, without realizing it, I became adoptable. It was a long road, but I had friends who saw the end much clearer than I, and they helped and encouraged, and ya know what? It is a process, and it’s ongoing. I figure as long as I have questions, I can still search out the answers. 

Thomas and I had several discussions about what happens when we die? Nobody knows. People of faith are sure theyknow and they will go to their heaven to be with their God. Far be it from me to tell them otherwise. If it makes their dying easier, by all means they should believe it. I waffle. Since no one has come back with irrefutable proof of life after life, I figure my ideas are as good as anyone else’s. When Mole asked Raven Roshi what happens at the moment of death, Raven Roshi thought then said, “I give away all my belongings.” (From Zen Master Raven, sayings and doings of a wise bird, by Robert Aitken.) At the moment of death we give away all our clothes, our books, our computers, our wants, our desires, our anger, our love—we give them all away. We no longer need or want them.

As I said, I waffle. I hope my Ancestors will call me to them. But I really hope Schrodinger had it right, that we are on this planet both alive and dead until (God?) observed and we must decide. If dead, do we slide into another universe? Do we just die, everything goes dark, and that’s it? Buddhists believe in reincarnation. I’d like that if I can come back as a spoiled lap cat!

Will I see my family again, Thomas again? I don’t know. I can hope, I suppose I could have faith, but I won’t have proof until I’m dead. And then it won’t really matter, because I won’t be able to come back and tell any of you about my last adventure. Bummer. And I’d so like to share with y’all.

I only had Thomas in my life for about 5 years, but I am so fortunate to have had those years, and to have been introduced to some of his friends and family, so we can all keep him in our lives when we get together. I can truly say I am a better person for having him in my life. I have deleted his email from my contact list, but not his name. As long as he is remembered by someone, he isn’t truly gone. I’m still keeping my EBOC in my computer, as well as my heart.

If you missed my earlier blog, “Are You Adoptable?” or have forgotten it, and would like to read it, drop me a note and I’ll send you a copy.

Addendum: I wrote this over a week ago, then my hard drive crashed. I mistakenly thought my computer had suffered the lonesome blues while I was gone so long and had invited some outlaw bikers in to keep her company, and the not only trashed the place, but left her full of viruses, malwares and a trojan or two. Now, I have apologized hugely, because she was merely trying to keep the hard drive from dying. One needs to treat their computers nicely. It looks like the only thing I lost of great import is all my passwords. Oh, well…

Anyhow I have her back, and today is Tuesday, the 11th of July. On Sunday, the 9th, I was back on the Dark Side for the Celebration of Life we held for Thomas. It was beautiful. The sun came out, it was warm, and 50 people were there. I will post a couple of readings in the Spoken Word later today, or possibly tomorrow. As soon as I can remember how. 😉 And postings should begin, again, on Mondays.

This was the wine. The beer was in a washtub and a cooler or two, all filled with ice. Do you see the little ceramic shot glasses in the basket at the upper left corner? Those were made by Sheryl’s sister, Lori, who is a potter. She made 50. And the bottle of booze next to the wine is a bottle of Bullet Rye. When everyone had finished telling their Thomas Tales, we all got a shot glass, a shot of Rye, and toasted Thomas. The shot glass then went home with us. Thanks Lori for the wonderful memento, and thanks Sheryl for giving Thomas a beautiful place to live out his remaining time. I am so grateful to have met you, and Lori, and Matthew, Andrew, Olga, all the kids, two-legged and four-legged, and to have been so lovingly accepted by all.

Some of the people who came. They are looking forward to someone who is speaking. I am standing in the back, the short one with a black tee that says Metaphors Be With You that I bought in honor of Thomas, and holding the poem he wrote the morning after his sister, Sally, died. I managed to get through it and sit before I lost it. Photo is by: MarySue Finley

An elephant ear (baby, still growing) and a huge drop of water, either from a bit of rain, dew, or sprinkler. Not sure which. Probably a good tablespoon of water. It’s growing in MarySue’s yard.

Thanks for your patience, and hugs all around.

Funny thing, this thing called grief

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Weather in the Tries. Gonna be more hot than not. But the nights will cool some. Mostly in the mid-high 80s with a couple forays into the 90s. The nights will be, mostly, mid 50s with a couple forays into the 60s. I think it’s summer, yes?

Funny thing, this thing called grief. It’s been almost two weeks since Thomas died. I’ve lost people I’ve loved before him—parents, friends. I’m a reader, ya know? Except for reading War Dances, by Sherman Alexie, to Thomas I haven’t read a book in weeks, probably months. I can’t concentrate long enough to hold the plot in my wee tiny brain. I watch the news. I don’t have to pay attention, it’s just there. 

I’ll try to get a review written and posted about War Dances, but in the meantime, get thee to a bookstore and get a copy. It’s a collection of very well written stories (fiction) and poetry. Highly recommend the book.

Housemate Dan woke me the other morning at the ungodly hour of 6am to inform me he’d called 9-1-1 to take him to the hospital. I brought him home after about 3 days. I don’t hurt, but I don’t not hurt. Does that make sense? 

For years, I ended every night with a text to Thomas. Every morning was an email and as he lost the ability to easily read them, texts, and then texts to both Thomas and Sheryl so she could read them to him. Of course, when I was there, I didn’t do either. But I’m home now, and it feels very, very odd not to be able to text/email him. It’s hard trying to sleep when my routine is upset. I would read a bit, then send him a text. Now I’m not reading, nor sending him a text.

I think I’m mostly through with the crying, but I find myself sitting and staring at nothing. It turns out the meds I’m on for my neuropathy is also known as Elavil—an anti-depressant. Which explains why I put on wait since starting them. Today, I’ll start looking for a support group for hospice caregivers.  

I learned a long time ago that when something happens and you grieve, GRIEVE. If you put it off, for whatever reason, Grief will wait in the back room of your brain/heart for a while. And when you think you got away without grieving, it strikes, at the most inopportune time. So I’m grieving. But it’s different than any I’ve gone through before. I’m not crying so much, but I’m sitting and staring. At something. Sammy must remind me to feed him and to take him for a walk. But he’s great at snuggling and letting me know I may be a bit absent minded, but I’m still his Person of Choice 😉

I did find one thing to read, that was pretty interesting. The full 49-page Indictment of the OP. I won’t ‘fess up to the amount of time it took to read it, how often I started over, etc. IF you haven’t read it, I strongly urge you to read it. It’s written in English instead of Legalese, and is pretty interesting, no matter which side of the aisle you prefer.

As grieving as I am, I’m still laughing. It’s weird, really. So feel free to send me jokes and funny things.

I took this shot of Thomas last August.

And this is wy I don’t dust. It could be Thomas. Or Tashiko. Or Mom or Daddy. Or…

Having yourself a great week, and I’ll see you next Monday, same Bat Time, same Bat Channel.

This was scheduled to go out a tad after midnight, and this morning my computer tells me the schedule was missed. Probably a good thing. I had a typo in the paragraph above that I missed in the proof cycle. I wished everyone a “…great wee,..” and though I wish you all that, too, I really am wishing you a great week. sigh.