Holding on when hope fades

I have kept some things form this blog, and although I am an open book in many aspects, there are a few things I seldom talk about. If it was up to me, I’d keep it this way but I need an outlet and can no longer carry it all by myself. It needs to be processed and dealt with. One such a subject is my husband. We’ve known each other since 1994, married in 1999, started living estranged lives around 2004 when the problems we had existed for a few years already. I am not going into details and reality is that most wouldn’t even beging to understand how complex everything has been. I’ve even been challenged, judged and dropped because of different views and opinions, but that’s an entire different story. What is factual is that we both made mistakes and choices, some not reconcilable and without the commitment from both parties. These choices bothered me for a long time and they still sting a bit. What remains is that we are two people that fell in love a long time ago and who couldn’t make it work in the end.

In 2021 we sold our house and separated, each going our own way. In fact we had done so for well over a century, only sharing responsibilities and obligations, being roommates under the same roof, upholding the burdens we both created. We are not legally separated and on paper we are still married. Both of our plates have been full and life has been a rollercoaster of events. Timing and other things needed to take priority, and strangely and in many ways we are better friends now then we were when we still fought for our marriage. No matter what the future holds, we know it is a life lived separately from each other, but I also know that we can count on each other if push comes to shove and perhaps this is more than most relationships have to show for. And push did come to shove…

Almost immediately after our separation my husband got very sick and a life long of being a diabetic along with other health related issues started to catch up with him. In some respect it even felt like bad karma as our split wasn’t that easy and years and years of unhappiness and problems preceded this moment. He got sick so badly that he needed help and couldn’t fend for himself anymore. Currently I spend a few days with him every week to do what I can. This ranges from running errands, to doing the shopping, the cleaning, being a mental and emotional support, to finding alternative healing methods and then making natural potions and lotions to help aid his condition. Cinnamon comes along and helps. She is a great support but sometimes I feel bad to subject her, as she feels too much as well. The issues we are dealing with is acute kidney failure which results in water retention and that in return causes open sores and blisters around his legs as the water has to escape somewhere. We have survived a Heart Attack that has left his heart permanently damaged, and we also have the macular degeneration in his eyes to deal with, causing near blindness in one eye. This makes driving a huge challenge and endangerment not only to himself but also to others. Those are the main issues but there is more, which increasingly is getting worse too.

For months we’ve been fighting to keep infections at bay as this would be the end and amputation would be imminent. It is unimaginable for him and he talks about taking measures into his own hands before it comes to that. He is a very young soul and of course scared to death. Who wouldn’t be but the reference of him being a young soul is pertaining to many other aspects and how he handles himself through this lifetime. Several times to the surprise of his doctor I managed to heal and close up his legs, but the blisters keep coming. Some of the medicines he has to take can cause these blisters and it’s like a vicious cycle. There is a high amount of pain that is involved when raw meat is exposed, and these sores can’t tolerate anything to touch them. He can’t leave the house and is feeling like a prisoner within his own four walls. He has to sleep in a chair, sitting, and fatigue and irritability is running it’s course when you have to get by on 3-4 hours of sleep on a good night. His appetite is dissipating and he never knows which foods he will tolerate if he does eat. He is reaching a point where hope is running thin and depression has settled in heavily.

Mental health, suicide and other issues associated with the end of life can be heartbreaking and sometimes there is just an overwhelming amount that surrounds me because of him. Being an end of life couch is a difficult job and I have the highest respect for someone who can be this kind of help and assistance. It can’t be easy but in comparison my “service” keeps repeating each weekend, it prolongs, and death lingers. It feels as if the suffering quota has not yet been met. There is no relieve, no release and the suffering continues as long as the heart is willing to beat. I have to be the strong one and if I break, everything breaks. I cry alone and when I am away, but it’s getting more and more difficult when it is so hard to watch. When you run out of options to help and feel the helplessness swallow you up whole. Regardless of our future and taking different directions, I care enough not to let him walk alone and without help. I can’t turn my back and say “We are not together anymore, you are not my responsibility, see how you get along.” My heart knows that I have to do what I can to help, it was this way with Mom, it is this way now. Sometimes it puts me into the path of being a whipping post for emotions, pain and frustration, when the hope fades and reality can’t be denied or masked any longer. I do the best to protect myself but I feel too much and can’t turn the emotions on and off. Pain and fear changes a person and it is all consuming. I have to remain the course and yes it is time for me to be happy as well. But how can I be with something like this at hand, with being the only one left, the only one who can and is willing to be there until the end.

Talking on the phone the other day, I could feel a heavy amount of pressure and depression. There is guilt from the past, and he hasn’t made peace with previous mistakes and wrong doings. There is self pity and feeling sorry for himself. There is jealousy because I apparently have a reason to live for, I want to build a house and I have purpose. Yet he is not willing to create such a purpose for himself. There are unrealistic expectations as if the world and everyone he knew has turned against him. There is sadness that no one checks in on him, yet no one is told what is really going on. He expects of others what he can’t uphold himself. Sometimes it is hard to instill hope and come up with a purpose, something that might inspire and give him something to look forward to, something to hold on to. He has no aspirations, no ambition, no ways of making dreams a reality. He doesn’t know how to and has to be led by the hand. (Young soul reference.) He would like to visit a foreign place and if he could only spend one day, sitting in peace and seeing things, he could die a happy man he says. Yet we don’t even have a valid passport to remotely make this wish a reality. He is a pessimist and yes he has chosen to walk the victim route. It has mostly been this way and I don’t know what happened and when it changed. He wasn’t always like that but he didn’t process life lessons the way I did and rather saw them as getting the short end of the stick, eventually becoming bitter. Such an outlook and attitude makes the difference and how far we come in our own journey. Sometimes it’s hard to deal with the same old day in and day out and being no stranger to my own chronic pain, I do understand how he feels. Yet it is draining to an optimist. I myself have been at the breaking point a time or two and sometimes we just can’t see past the pain and the struggle when we are engulfed and surrounded by it. Sometimes I understand all too well and feel it disqualifies me from being that saving grace and hand. Sometimes I feel that he is beyond the help that I can offer and he is too far gone already. I am constantly fighting to stay afloat, to keep from drowning.

So here I was saying things like “giving up is not optional,” “don’t talk like that,” “hold on, brighter days are coming,” “your time is not done here yet, you are needed,” “that’s selfish,” and “giving up is the easy way out.” I was surprised at his response as he told me that once upon a time he shared that same belief and giving up was a cowards exit but that was a long time ago and he didn’t believe in it anymore. He used to say the same thing when his Mom was ill. Suffering. Helpless. Wanting to die. The conversation brought into perspective what it takes to keep going when one suffers. How miserable and hopeless the days can be, fighting through yet another battle only to face another around the corner, trying not to give up because it’s not optional or the cowards way out. To hold on because your family and loved ones have not come to terms and are not yet willing to let you go. Do they even realize what agony you are in and that it is only a matter of time until your body gives out. How much more do they need you to experience and endure! Wasn’t that in itself the selfish part!

The normal given response would be to insist on getting help, on giving them the suicide hotline number. But even without suicide and going to that extreme as physically harming thy self, losing your will to live in a way is just like suicide and giving up. And yet how can we make someone go on and ask them to live, going through the pain day in and day out, when they no longer want to and have given up already! I check in daily, several times as I try and prepare myself for the moment when there is no answer anymore. When I have to drive to town scared of what I will find. When I don’t know if I will find him alive again. I know that I can help in many ways, but I know that I can’t instill hope where there is none left. I can’t take the fear of dying, or changing events of his past. I can’t make peace for him and it is something he has to do on his own. I can’t lift Karma and I can only beg him to change his ways and what he puts out into the universe. I can’t convince him, I can’t make him believe and turn an optimist. I can’t make him believe in miracles and that everything is possible. I can’t make him go on.

What a difficult position as we pray and hope things turn for the better once more. Perhaps they will, perhaps they won’t. It is a matter of buying a little more time. What is inevitable is that everyone’s time is coming, soon or later and there is no easy way around it. And in the meantime I don’t even know how to feel knowing that I have prayed for his suffering to end. To fall asleep and be released from the pain and his terminal condition that might give him a break for a few days, perhaps weeks, but in reality won’t go away and can’t be cured. How do we hold on in times like these….

Remembering you on your special day

Another year has passed as we celebrate our special day and birthday. You today in heaven and me tomorrow, here on earth. We are in different places and I am still adjusting and trying to get used to my life without you in the physical form. You are with me always as I carry you in my heart and perhaps I talk to you more now that you are gone as I did while you were alive. How ironic life is at times and hindsight makes up such a big portion of our experiences. Hindsight that turns into lessons that can’t be changed anymore. At least not for that particular experience, but we do get the chance to direct our course for the future and make the changes we see fit. So at least we learn from it even though many lessons carry a heavy price tag.

I was glad that I could finally replace your basic wooden cross on the grave and pick, select, and order this heart for you. It has a lot of meaning to me and the color of it compliments Dad’s headstone you had to select so many years ago. The dragonfly is how you appeared to me shortly after your death to comfort me and to let me know that you are ok. Without a doubt was it clear to me that it had to be a part of this heart. The stones surrounding it were handpicked and collected during my stay in 2018. Little did I know what use they would find one day. And “no” I am not the only one in the family who is collecting stones and strange artifacts. I am glad that these, collected during special times, now have found a special place with you. I know that you like them and my last memories of you are childlike. So impressionable from a sheltered life, amazed at all the things, big and small in the world. It was often the simplest of things that brought the biggest smiles to your face and it’s a picture I will never forget.

I have talked to you a lot over the last couple of months and the house that you’ve spent so many years in is nearly gone now. A few more formalities and exchange of monies and this chapter will close forever. But we are building a new one with the purchase of the land recently, and believe me when I say that you are with me every step of the way. I am driven to get this right and it will be a place you always hoped to live in, a place in your honor, and a place with a view, with mountains, aspen trees and much more. Mom, especially today and tomorrow I miss you even more and I still cry writing words so personal, words that involve you and how I feel for you. I know it will be this way for the rest of my life, so I should get used to it, but I am afraid I ever will. I will always miss you in the physical form despite us being closer now. Today I wish you a heavenly birthday and the only comfort to know is that you are with Dad. Today you fill my heart just a little more as I send you the biggest virtual hug while telling you that I love you and I miss you.

Processing all there is…

It was an important day today, and I’m processing all there is and all that has been so far. I think I am still a little numb and perhaps reality hasn’t set in yet, or at least not to the full effect. I will write about it soon I’m sure.

Two weeks ago I got to visit family I haven’t seen since I was a child. After a doctors appointment with “Dad” we stopped to extend a belated birthday visit to whom used to be my biological Dads godfather. He had turned 90 years young and appeared very feisty. Today I also learned that he passed this morning and although we gave only met a few times over an entire lifetime, it is definitely sad news.

I think Mom sent me a sign today and she definitely was with me in regards to signing house over.

Happy heavenly Birthday

You’ve been gone for so many years Dad, and still sometimes it feels like it’s brand new. I’ve missed you for nearly 48 years now, and your loss hasn’t gotten easier over the years. It’s just something I had to learn to live with and accept, yet the hole in my heart it left behind is just as big and the pain burns just as deeply. I am in Germany for your birthday this year and I am close to your final resting place. I don’t know if that makes a difference as I carry you within my heart every day, but I am sure that I will visit you and Mom many times during my duration here, and for sure, I am here today, on your birthday. Happy Birthday Dad…I love you.

I have a feeling that I will have company with me when I come. It’s your older brother who is born just a few days before you…well, and some years. I wonder if you celebrated your birthdays together growing up. I have learned that he has cared for you a great deal, having to come to terms with your loss in his own way and he will always see you as his lil brother. I can see a smirk on his face when he talks about you and I am sure you two have shared some stories of mischief. I hope I get him to tell me a few of those stories while I am here. Just the other day he told me that he found a video of you holding me in your arms while I was still a baby and I’m waiting for him to show me. Maybe I can show him some old pictures of you with your clique and he might know a person or two himself of the people you hung out with in your youth.

I have to confess something and talk to you about something. It’s no secret that I have always shared a special connection with your brother and I never quite knew the exact reason. I can’t pinpoint it to one thing and perhaps it is his sense of humor that closest resembles your own nature, always ready to crack a joke and not seeing life so seriously. Always caring for family above all, and always wanting to protect the ones that mean the most. Maybe it is because he has always treated me with respect, even as a child. Or maybe it is because I saw you in him once you were gone. He became my legal guardian and I never knew it until just a few years ago as I had to dig through papers after Mom passed. He had forgotten all about it and never had to spring into action. Mom always took well care of everything, and there was never a need for him to interfere.

Living in the US, we never got to see each other a lot, yet the connection was there and intensified in 2019 as I was back for Mom’s funeral. His wife was in the hospital at that time and I was able to give him a lift a few times to visit her. We had a lot of time to talk and we got very close to each other, especially once his wife passed just a few months after Mom. We shared grief and pain, an understanding of what it’s like and we leaned on each other. I remember telling him that it felt weird and empty not to have parents anymore. I told him that I felt like an Orphan, and I told him about the paperwork that I had found saying that he was my guardian. The memory of it came back to him and I feel there is more to it, that I simply don’t know yet.

What followed next happened very fast but felt natural. He told me that in that sense he was my 2nd father, that I was and that he wanted me to be a part of his immediate family. I started to call him Dad. It was for the first time since the age of ten that I could use this word, addressing someone close to me and it had a good ring to it. It was bittersweet and it brought to the forefront all that I had been missing all of this years. A father, my Dad, YOU.

It was the beginning of January and I was back in the States as he emailed me an adoption certificate that his oldest son made on the computer, officially adopting me and welcoming me into his family. It looked very professional, almost like it was the real deal, not that I would have known what the official document, if any looked like. I was overcome and I burst into tears as I saw it. I felt very touched, even loved and cared for. I thought it was sweet and generous, but soon I would find out that he was serious about the adoption and wanted to legalize it. Even while I was still in Germany, I remember that he mentioned to family that I was his daughter. Not the daughter of his younger brother, but his daughter. He introduced me this way to other family members like he wanted them to get used to the concept. It felt good to feel this care, the love of a father I never knew, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I enjoyed us being closer and it gave reason to the closeness I had felt towards him all these years.

Two years have passed since then and he has been serious about making it legal through the courts. The legal process has been started and he is hoping that we can finalize it while I am here. I can feel how important this is to him and I can feel a story behind it, but I don’t know the reasons in great detail yet. I do have to wonder about the importance and after all he just turned 85 years young. And because of it, it has also become important to me. He wants to experience what it’s like to have a father daughter relationship before he leaves this world, and perhaps I seek a similar feeling, wondering what it’s like to have a Dad, although I know that in my heart you will always be the one, my true father, the one I miss every day. Now I sit here and I wonder how you would feel about it if he adopted me! You already know that nothing will ever erase you from being my father and the person I have looked up to and missed for a lifetime. And I don’t think that this would be what he wants anyways. He is not here to erase you. Your memory is strong and it lives not only within me but also within him. I wonder what your relationship was like with him. Would you be at ease, knowing your older brother is looking out for me and is helping spread his guardian wings around me.

Dad, I miss you and you too always treated me fair, like an adult, never once raising your hand at me. There was never a spanking, but there was a love that was unconditional and undying. I miss that. Every day, I miss that. I miss you. Now I am here on your birthday, with your older brother, standing at your final place of rest and I wish that I could talk to you and see you again. I am sure your brother has already talked to you about the adoption and I bet he talks to you a lot either way, regardless of the subject. In the end every road always leads back to me and to what I think about it and to what I want. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t consider if this could betray you in any way. I can’t see it and I know my loyalty and my heart and it’s definitely not like I am turning my back on you. I know my heritage and I need to learn more of the reasons. I know I am bringing purpose to his life just as he brings purpose to mine. Still there are a few questions and I need to understand why this is so important.

I love you Dad…happy birthday. 💙

The nights are the worst

Sometimes, I crave solitude and an escape from the chatter when things get too busy. Yet when I have it and when I am alone, these night of solitude become the worst ones of all. When the day comes to a rest and I’m no longer distracted, the truth of these haunting walls where Mom lived and resided for so many years, close in on me. I can feel their loneliness, their pain and I can hear their cry’s, while adding my own. Some days my heart feels heavy and I suppose even those times are needed and a part of the process. Being right here, where it all happened, where only walls heard the cries of loneliness is yet different vs thinking about it from afar.

For the longest I contemplated moving back, to transform this sadness and breathe a new life into these walls, letting my love cancel out the pain. I always knew I could, and I was convinced of that, being stronger, allowing love to cure all. Eventually I realized that it would merely be a sad attempt to take away the pain, to lift the burden for the one who carried it all, and who is no longer amongst us. Today my own cries add to these walls because I too was left behind and I too miss someone dearly.

I love you Mom and I miss you every day.

Death

Art by Columbus Community Deathcare

We lost a loved one last Friday and it’s been a week. She was a mother, a sister, a wife, aunt and godmother. It was a tough road leading up to it and in the end no further help could be given after a full month stay in the hospital. In other words, “we knew” and it was an expected death. And yet how do you ever prepare for it, knowing or not, it stings just the same and is a very difficult transition for most who are left behind to deal with a loss. I have experienced death for too many times it seems. Expected or unexpected, I wonder which is easier. It’s a question no answer can be given to.

Death is a subject we all face at some point. It is also a subject many fear or don’t like to think about. Perhaps it is the unknown, not being in control and having no say so in the matter. Nor knowing when our time comes and what death has in store for us. Will it be quick, or will we suffer for many years! Death freezes our blood and chokes our breath as we all have to stare into the eyes of death at some point. So perhaps at this point it is easier to dismiss the unknown that induces fear and stow the thought as far away as possible from our conscious. Yet it is imminent and just a matter of time. But some things are better not known as they would overshadow the rest of our days and I think this is one such thing.

Death leaves us helpless when we witness someone else facing it other than ourselves. It leaves us with little consolation such as knowing that the suffering is over and that they have transitioned to a place of no pain. To know that they live on through us and merely moved into another form without the need for a body. That they have fulfilled their purpose here on earth, in their body and that their soul lives on. Still we will never talk to them and see them in our old familiar way again. I think this is what makes it so difficult and it’s not that we will have a visit with their soul at some point and time. Perhaps we will and nothing is impossible, but whether we could even realize it from our end or theirs is highly unlikely.

Death is final and changes us instantly. Life will never be the same and no matter how strong we try to be, how hard we try to hold it all together, death always has the final word and will revisit us over and over. It’s then, that the memory surfaces in the tears that roll down our face, in the family traditions that are not quite the same anymore, in the familiar chats, talks, hugs, and love that is left unexpressed with nowhere to go. Death is final and none of us get out of here alive.

A happy ending

Yesterday could have ended much differently for us, and honestly I am still digesting what happened. By writing about it I hope to get some fear and anxiety that has set in in hindsight while seeing a much bigger picture off of my chest and I will feel better.

It started as a beautiful day, one of those rare mild ones late in the season where Father Winter can make an appearance each and every day. It was my first time out for an extended period since hiking The Wave. I felt good and I was going to go a little further than usual today. It should be no problem after my adventure to The Wave, and although I wasn’t planning to hike 10 miles, I’d be happy if I hit 3. I was breathing deeply and the sun felt nice and warm in the slight breeze. I took Cinnamon to a place, a point on a lake we have hiked several times in the past. Except today we would go beyond the bathroom which is usually our turning point. The path is a gravel road and goes through the woods. It ends at a point of the lake and if it wasn’t too muddy, this would be a great place for Cinnamon to run and burn off some energy. The entire hike to the point was peaceful and I was thinking about thanksgiving and how I felt this feeling of gratitude and giving thanks every day already. Who needed a calendar to dictate as to when you should feel this way, but I get it and understand why.

Arrived at the waterfront 1.7 miles later, Cinnamon walked right in and submerged herself up to her belly in cool bliss. I scanned the area and made out the dry patch of an open field to the left of us. It would provide a great area for her to run wild and free. Further left in quite some distance, I saw a group of three people with a dog. I felt that with any luck, she (Cinnamon) wouldn’t even notice them as they were far enough away. I let her loose and she ran like a maniac across the field. Ears flopping, smiling from ear to ear, mouth open showing teeth in such a delight and happiness that it always makes me laugh. I snapped a few pictures and glanced over to the group of people to see what they were up to. It’s a habit and something I always do, especially when I’m out alone. To be honest, I’d rather encounter no one and I’m sure this mindset stems from an experience many years ago where I was stalked and someone was following me. Strangely this happened at the same lake.

By now the group was breaking up and two out of the tree people with the dog were heading into the woods. The man dressed in all black, wearing a hoodie seemed overdressed for this warm day and was now starting to walk into my direction. Immediately I got a real bad feeling and was trying to make sense of what reason he could possibly have to walk towards me. There was no car parked that he was returning to, there was nothing besides the bathroom and I highly doubted that this is where he was heading to. My intuition and gut feelings were running rampant and I knew that we had to get out of there. I leashed Cinnamon in record time and started to briskly move. My goal was to walk off of the open field towards the trail in the woods. I was grateful having accomplished putting her on leash quickly and that she wasn’t playing any game of catch me if you can that day. In my mind I was trying to calculate of where the man in black would intercept me on the trail, me coming straight and him coming from the side. I was gauging the distance and I had no desire to meet him. I had hurry, hurry, hurry if I was to have chance avoiding him.

I looked over into his direction which was now on my right side to check his progress and where he was. He had disappeared which was even weirder and I knew again that something wasn’t right. I forced myself to move even faster and to get off of this darn open field. Almost there, and at least back into the woods I thought to myself as I saw him reappear and come out from behind a bush of which bare branches were tightly meshed together, reaching towards the sky. Again he was making his way towards me as the distance and the gap between us was closing in. Honestly I didn’t know if I would make it and escape him in time, or if our path would collide, but I knew I had to give it my best shot. And then I heard it and I will never forget that sound of two bullets passing just overhead of me and hitting the waterfront right next to me. He was shooting at us, why, clearly he could make me out as a person with a dog, just as I had made them out before. What reason would he have to shoot at us. I was thinking more about Cinnamon, it couldn’t be that he was mistaken her for a deer. Besides he didn’t look the least bit like a hunter. This was serious and adrenaline and survivals instinct took over. He was shooting at us, he wanted us gone. Cinnamons hair was standing straight up and she was visibly shaken from the gunshots as we continued to move.

We made it into the woods while never stopping to scan the side that was his direction to see if he was coming. “Should I hide and lock myself into the bathroom” I thought, which I quickly dismissed. How could I be sure of when and how it was safe to come out! I immediately knew I’d be there for hours and if he made in somehow and broke the door down, it would be lights out for sure. I had to keep going and follow the path close to the trees instead of walking in the middle of the gravel road which I usually do. Hopefully the trees would provide a “No shot” environment for us. Surely he’ll catch up to me with the RA and me being unable to run I thought, although at one point it felt like the adrenaline was carrying me so much that I might have been able to run. I didn’t try and I didn’t want to make more noise than I had to. Instead I walked as fast as I could. Ever so often Cinnamon stopped and looked back into the direction of the shooter. She will sense someone coming and hear someone long before you ever do and her doing this was even more nerve racking. It left me feeling followed and as if we were being hunted. I knew I had to clear another 1.7 miles to get back to the car. 1.7 miles that were sheer terror. If he was trying to scare us….mission accomplished for sure.

All of a sudden three more shots were fired and came directly from behind us. Not necessarily into our direction but on our heels. By now my feet were aching so badly, but this wasn’t a time to take it easy or even slow down. I managed to send a text message to communicate my where about’s and what had just happened. Luckily I had a signal and I hurried up just saying what I needed to as to not slow down and get distracted. We had to keep moving. FAST!

Eventually we made it back to the car and it must have been the longest 1.7 miles ever. Still looking in anticipation that the shooter was close behind us, I peeled out of there with Cinnamon and couldn’t even wrap my mind around what had just happened. After some distance, I was able to communicate another message that we were safe and had made it back to the car. Back at home, I lost the timeframe of a few hours somehow and I don’t even remember what I did in these few hours. As the adrenaline was wearing off, I felt so exhausted and drained. I was beat and I was so tired. I couldn’t force myself to complete the slightest task and just vegetated away. I don’t think I fell asleep and yet I have no recollection of that time.

Later that evening we were contemplating on what happened and the reality of hindsight set in. How this could have been a much different picture, ending in disaster and in what could have ended my life and Cinnamons. The conclusion we came up with was that that group of people was up to no good and that I became a witness to a potential drug deal. I was merely caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Shooting pictures of Cinnamon, perhaps they thought that I was photographing their interaction, which made me a threat. Why would someone with a gun shoot into the direction of people, me in that case, unless they wanted to eliminate that person? There was such a ruthlessness, such no hesitation in his action, it’s truly scary and puts into focus how far people are willing to go and how little a human life means.

Further we thought that he probably stopped his search once he had reached the bathroom. Few people, if any, park at the Main Street and then walk in 1.7 miles like I did. Out of frustration he fired the additional three shots that we heard behind us. He must have thought that I had driven off and didn’t realize that I was hustling through the woods to get away, still on foot. Had he realized this and known that it was slow going for me, I would have become an easy target for him and I’m most certain he would have pursued me.

Needless to say we are not going back there again. I am grateful Cinnamon cooperated and knew as well that we had to hurry and get ourselves out of there. I am sure she picked up on my own fear and that this was a dangerous situation. I slept little last night and felt cold. I remember feeling like that during a robbery I was held up in and at gunpoint years ago. Same feeling and I think it is the shock wearing off. Today we are just taking it easy and will walk a more populated path for our walk. I am still in awe, but I am grateful for this happy ending and that we are both still here. Today we have a new reason to give thanks and be appreciative that w have both gotten away.

There is no escape

Grief is powerful. Grief is love unexpressed. Grief impacts, grief changes us – forever and grief holds us in it’s iron grip.

It was the day of your Death anniversary. A dreaded day, one I try to prepare for every year now. Last year was the first time, a year of firsts, a year of birthdays and holidays without you. Maybe I thought it’ll get easier after that, but it didn’t. Maybe I was trying to fool myself into believing such a thing to breathe hope where hope no longer lives. Now into the second year, the pain was just as strong. I realize that it is something that I will live for the rest of my life and I will have to get used to it. It’s a hole that can’t be filled, a wound that will never heal.

September had just started, but right away I knew that this month would bring some painful memories. Memories that are just a little stronger than they are during every other month. It was the anniversary of your death that would trigger other dates and events, such as saying goodbye to you in the hospital lying in front of me in a closed casket. Such as the day when your cremation certificate arrived, stating in such a macabre way the location, date and time you were cremated. To the date your urn was put into the ground as we bit the final farewell. All dates are well remembered and seem so current despite of the two years that have passed since then. Dates that reach well into the middle of October.

It was the day before your anniversary and it was night time to be exact. I thought I had held it together pretty good so far, given that I had prepared all month for this day, feeling it’s pain on and off. In the evening, that night, a storm moved through bringing rain and high winds, just like it did the day of your funeral. I’ve always thought it was you getting in the last word, sending us a sign, us who stood there grieving you, already missing you so much. Now two years later you are still speaking to me. You show up as the wind, howling and descending rain drops onto my small tin roof. I actually felt comforted to know you with me, but I hardly slept that night. I tossed and turned and couldn’t get comfortable. In the morning I woke with a great deal of physical pain and swollen, inflamed limbs. Was it the barometric low of the storm, the lack of sleep, the stress of this time a year, I am not sure, but the pain stayed with me all day, leaving me exposed and more vulnerable than usual. It’s during that time I always feel more vulnerable.

I struggled through the day despite of trying so hard to distract myself and be ok. Who was I kidding? Did I really think I could be ok on a day like this? The afternoon came and I committed to self care and being gentle and understanding of myself. Giving my body a break where it needed to rest and being present in the moment with no particular thoughts. But I was uncomfortable and riddled by pain. I so badly want to believe, that pain is nothing more than a warning sign that I am not living in the space of my most authentic self, but while I believe it plays a huge role in it, I know it’s not all and it’s not that simple. Whatever the case and whether this is true, I can only be patient as I allow the things meant to be to fall into place.

Throughout this difficult time I felt most lovingly supported by loved ones, friends and family who all know that this is a hard day for me. I felt held, loved and understood. I was given space where I needed it and open arms to be embraced where it was all that could be done. Space was held for me in loving compassion and without any questions. And then it finally happened and the holding it together approach flew right out the door. The tears started to flow and a deep pain was acknowledged, heard and finally released. Was it the physical pain that finally led me to this point or was it simply time? I was alone just like I needed to be, but in that instance I felt so lonely. I felt left behind with no opportunity to express my love, although I know that we don’t always have to do this in the physical sense. Perhaps in a moment of rest, the goal to distract myself fell through and the truth of what’s inside my heart had to surface and come out. Whatever it might be, it doesn’t matter, but grief and missing a loved one continues on for yet another year and another thereafter until the end of time. And throughout it, I love and I miss you very much.

An annual reminder

Today is a bittersweet day and day with mixed emotions.

The stimulus money arrived this morning, so it’s a plus on the financial side. Unemployment continues for the other half (husband) so I know at least he will be taken care of for now.

Our house has gone on the market as of today and a sign will graze the yard in a few hours. It’s surreal, really, and it’s leaving me a bit on the emotional side of things. More about the house later and a few posts are scheduled.

I wish I could wish you a Happy St. Patrick’s day, but the fact is that this day has been an emotional one for me for another reason, one that dates back many years.

While some of us celebrate at any given day, honoring a holiday, a birthday, or perhaps an anniversary, for others it is a painful reminder and a dreaded day.

For me it marks the anniversary of having to say goodbye to the closest companion I had to that day. Together, we came into each other’s life, much like Cinnamon did now, and together we rescued each other.

Seven years ago today, I had to make the tough decision of sending Nikki over the Rainbow bridge to run with Sparky and to end her suffering. Believe me it’s one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. I try to remember it not in a way of being in charge of ending her life, but in a way of walking that final path together. To do the only thing possible to end the suffering of a depleted life quality. It’s doesn’t bring much comfort and I will never forget that day. Today hurts just like it did seven years ago.

I love you sweet princess…run free and without pain, and hug Sparky for me.

Ascending towards the heavens

Picture taken from yahoo

2020 is coming to an end, and what a sad end it is. My aunt passed this morning, exactly two weeks after her husband passed. Both cases Covid 19 related and it’s truly hard to grasp. It feels like an awful nightmare you are hoping to wake up from, but no matter how many times you try, the outcome always remains same with a harsh and awful reality. Just like that, both gone in a matter of two weeks, a family wiped out.

My cousin, there youngest son who is my age has also tested positive for Covid and I can’t even begin to imagine what must go through his mind. The grief about losing both parents and being sick himself with a vicious disease that claimed the life of his beloved parents. Things change and you truly come to value life and how precious it is when a crisis such as this knocks on your own door. I personally have reason now to despise and hate this vicious killer.

My heart is truly heavy and aches for the families, all of us left behind trying to come to terms with all the loses encountered over the past two years. Even the non physical ones and countless hours are spent reminiscing and connecting in spirit. Some things are just beyond heartbreaking and don’t get easier in time. As another angel is ascending towards heaven today we cling to memories and beliefs in an effort to comfort our own aching heart.

Yes my aunt and uncle are reunited in heaven once more, and yes Dad got another one of his sisters to keep him company in heaven. May they all Rest In Peace as we miss them dearly.