24-Miracles

It has been a struggle for me to keep perspective or to integrate it into just what is to be done next. How to deal with all the emotions I am feeling at this time, how to calm the fears and face the future of just me.  A few days ago as I sat alone, crying, the 'Why Me Blues', I was reminded of my miracle.  That's right, 'my' miracle; although our entire family benefited from this miracle, I claim it as my own.  21 years ago as I sat in a basement contemplating removing myself from this world because I had become a hopeless alcoholic, a miracle happened for me. When I say hopeless I mean it literally. Anyone who knew me then, friend, family or foe can attest to that. I had reached a point where I knew I couldn’t drink any more, I had become sick and tired of being sick and tired. I had begun to drink every day while overseas and continued to do so once I returned home.  But, I don’t think it was the war that had me drinking, it wasn’t because of Donna or my family, it wasn’t because I couldn’t find a job, no I think I drank simply because I could…because I was selfish.  It's really not important to me why I did it, only that I stopped doing it.

I begged whatever God or Power that be to please help me and that prayer was answered.  It wasn't the prayer of help me stop drinking for Donna, or for the children, or so that I could keep a job. Those things never entered my mind, I was begging for 'my' relief, for 'my' sanity for 'my' life; it was the height of selfishness. Donna remained with me through all of that and I told her afterwards many times, that I believed that if things had been reversed, I don’t think I would have been able to do that. The miracle of sobriety for me happened in our lives and made the next 20 or so years with Donna possible. This reminded me that my first order of business is to keep me sober.  For me, all else flows from that point; again, it’s my responsibility to the Power in whom I have placed my trust and to whom made that miracle possible, that I don’t waste this life.

The first 2-1/2 years after the diagnosis, Donna continued to work, she wanted to; we tried to carry on as normally as we could in an abnormal situation.  Her side effects from the Chemo were mostly limited to leaving a bad taste in her mouth and some hair loss.  It appears now that the Chemo did extend her life and for the most part of the next four years we spent the time living.  As I think about those times now I feel good and now know how blessed we were; not only to have the time, but blessed because we became closer.  After reading about other people with the same condition as Donna, and, realizing that many of them only had months, and in some cases weeks to prepare, I know we were blessed with a miracle.   We, our family and I must remember not only the miracle of that, but also the miracle that our family has endured and remained intact.  I like to say now, ‘tho one less, we remain whole’.

Because of the way my mind is organized (?), when this whole thing came upon us, I think I went into some type of survival mode.  For me it came down to what I believed about life in general, what my philosophy about just what life meant.  I began to think about what we were going through, and as I went through my days trying do go on as normal, I realized that no one outside of our family and our close friends knew or cared a rat’s a-- about what was happening to us. That was natural, it wasn’t happening to them so how could they care?  I had to keep reminding myself of that.  We were surely not the first people this had happened to, and would not be the last.  Why it was happening to us was something I had to categorize as a part of life. It didn’t require me to endorse it or like it, or to make sense of it, it was life.  That begs the question then, just what are we doing in this life, what’s the point of it all.  I know it’s the universal question, everyone asks it, but now I had to get some hard definitions for myself; it didn't matter if they were right or wrong, just as long as I could put it to rest in my mind.

In the beginning we thought we had an idea of what life was about, it was the idea that most of us have when we’re young and just starting out; get married, make a home, raise some children and enjoy our old age together.  Well, the miracle for us was that these things did happen for us despite wars, alcoholism, close calls and many other dysfunctions.  But never in our wildest dreams did we consider that one or the other would have to go on without the other.  I don’t know why, we knew dying was a part of life; it’s just not something you normally think about.  I think we all tend to take this miracle of life for granted; we’re here, we live it and go on day to day.  It is mostly, only at times like this, times of great loss or some other deep trauma involving death that we stop to reflect on what it’s all about.  For me, I have to remember that I lived before Donna entered my life, that I laughed, cried, made and lost friends, went to parties, felt both good and bad, in short, I lived.  I was experiencing the gift of this life before her, being with her only enhanced that experience.  The bottom line is, this is my personal gift, this life, it is up to me on how it will either be enjoyed or destroyed.  Grief makes it hard to remember that, but it remains a truth for me.

Now, I don’t have any great insights on the meaning of life, no revelations brought from the mountain top, just my own humble opinion.  But I do believe that this life, all life is a miracle in itself.  I don’t think you can find one rational person who can look at a newborn and not be amazed, and not declare that a miracle.  The mechanics and biology of childbirth can be explained and detailed, but no one has the answer as to why and just how it occurs.  Mabey part of the miracle of life is the relationships we develop along the way and our feelings that allow those relationships to take hold and grow.  Mabey part of it is the results of the seemingly random events that occur in our lives and how they affect us, cause us to stop and think about our own situation.  As I say, I have no great answers, only more questions, especially now.  But all of that does not deny the existence of miracles, or the fact that life is one of them, at least not for me.  Now I understand that having Donna in my life was a miracle in itself; our improbable start, the torturous middle time and later, the unexpected and unwanted events that brought our time together to a close.  The facts are that we did have that life, that we did get the opportunity to learn from each other and grow.  We had the miracle of three healthy childbirths, made a home for them and defined for ourselves the sense of family. We have survived other tragedies, arguments, job losses, financial crisis, everyday BS, and all the other curve balls life loves to throw at you. To me that indicates that this grief also will be survived, it's just a matter of how.  There’s a song that contains the lines

“I want you, I need you, but don’t get me wrong, I’ll never love you, but two out of three ain’t bad…”

Well war didn’t bury us, addiction didn’t destroy us, and it took death to separate us, so maybe two out of three ain’t so bad....

Now, having chose not to end the miracle personally, not just yet anyway, let me see if we can whip this idea of a ‘new life’ into some type of shape we can recognize and live with and let the miracle continue.

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“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhere I go, you go), my dear…” -e.e.cummings

22=Here!

During the second week of my loneliness I realized I was carrying around a feeling I could not describe, an eerily disjointed type of feeling.  After an exhaustive search of a lot of sources, I had come to understand something about this process of grief and the feelings associated with it.  The ‘waves of grief’ I understood and had experienced, still do, the instances of pure shock that Donna is no longer here, well I had felt that too, still do, though not as much as in the beginning.  All the doubts, feelings of guilt, the anguish and fear, I have had those to, still do.  But for me, because I could put a name to those feelings, I could deal with them and understand them; I didn’t like them, but I could see that they were a part of this.  This eerie feeling I had since her death was something I had not been able to put a name to, or even had a description for it.  It had somewhat been pushed to the background as those other feelings were raging.  One day during this time, as I sorted through papers and clothes, I was half listening to what was on TV; it was a documentary about the Holocaust.

Why it was on I have no idea, I don’t remember purposely turning to it.  Anyway, as I sorted and listened, I picked up the thread of the narration.  The speaker was saying that in many of the places where terrible acts had been committed, where all these people had been killed, some visitors would comment that there was a certain atmosphere that existed.  The narrator described it as ‘the presence of absence’.  I stopped in mid-sort and turned to the TV; I listened as he explained this phrase.  I didn’t fully understand everything he was trying to say, but I did get this much: those places appear to contain some mysterious aura of all the people who passed through them…like, those people should still be there, but they’re not and their absence can be felt…or something like that.  Anyway, what I do know is that the phrase described accurately what I had been feeling those two weeks.

That eerie feeling that had been plaguing me was explained perfectly by this ‘the presence of absence’ phrase.  I could breathe again…I had a name for the feeling.  That’s important to me and my healing; my personality dictates that I be able to identify things, quantify them and put them in some specific order if I am to deal with them effectively, and that goes for grieving too, to some extent.  Grief does not lend itself well to those finite notions of boundaries. It runs wild, unchecked through my mind and wreaks havoc.  For me, it distorts reality and renders all previous conceptions of what one thinks life is about, useless when trying to come to terms with such a great personal loss.  But now I thought, I have some way to work with this feeling, now I could attach a name to it.  The feeling itself…how can I describe it…it was like I knew she was gone physically but I felt her all around me but something was missing, it was incomplete; it was as if when I turned to look, I expected her to be there but she wasn’t.  No matter where I went, the store, the car wash, home, to bed, there was an emptiness, a feeling that something or someone should be there, but is not.  That’s the atmosphere that was around me, that’s what that feeling is, the ‘the presence of absence’.  Evidently I was feeling the presence of her absence.  This had been keeping me off balance, along with the other ‘normal’ feelings of grief.  Hope that makes sense.  I still experience the power of that feeling today and probably will for some time to come.

The narrator continued, “…associated with this is ‘the absence of presence’….”;  at this point I had to question if the narrator was playing semantics.  As I thought about this I began to understand this a little better. 

The two phrases are linked together, though the words are rearranged, both phrases describe the same thing…almost…I think.  I do recognize the presence of Donna’s absence; I feel that presence of her absence. I also feel the pain in the absence of Donna’s presence; I imagine I could go ‘round and ‘round for sometime with this one…mabey it is just word games, but what ever it is it described for me how I was feeling, and for that I’m grateful, it really had me in a knot.

n delving into grief and how to deal with it, I have found that like most things, it has it’s own jargon, shortcuts, protocol and culture.  In posts listed on the various forums you will see references to: ‘waves of grief’, ‘instances of shock’, ‘the roller coaster (of emotions)’, abbreviations such as:  DH (dear husband), DW (dear wife), DS (dear son) or you might see MIL (mother-in-law), SIL, DIL, BIL &ct.  There are buzz words for events and dates: Angel Date (date of loved one’s death), WID (widow or widower), Sadisversary (birthday of loved one, or date to remember special event). That last one, Sadisversary, is also used to reflect one’s feeling towards a traditional holiday if a grieving person has a difficult time when those dates approach.  There’s also my favorite, ‘Bagos’, the short form of ‘WidowBagos’.  Apparently a turn on Winnebagos the RV, this is a gathering of widows and widowers that no doubt started at RV parks but has since ,come to describe the event regardless of where it’s held.  I have read where they are held at hotels, Theme Parks and the like.  I am not making any judgements on these things or trying to demean or poke fun at them, I’m merely listing them here as a point of information.  As a matter of fact I for one am glad they exist; they give us a way to describe the various facets of grief to one another with precise meaning and helps to develop a sense of fellowship.  They can make you feel that you are part of something, which you are not alone in what you are going through.  They really have helped me, as I mentioned before, I like to have a definition for things, the words and phrases allow me make a direct connection with the ‘grief community’.  Thus the importance for me to be able to put a name to the feeling I was experiencing during that time.

I still have that feeling sometimes but it does not produce the terror and overall sense of being lost that it once did, just sadness.  Of course there are other feelings that continue to raise their heads, the waves of grief, the instances of shock still occur for me.  The roller coaster of emotions is ever present; feeling great one moment, ready to burst into tears the next.  I will state flatly, I don’t like them. They continue to make me unsure of my actions and at times they hobble my thoughts.  The pain is here, I’m told it will always be here but will lessen over time.  That sucker punch to the gut feeling only comes every other hour these days, instead of every hour, but I’m never prepared for it. 

Yes, I long for Donna’s presence again, her absence is sorely felt, and just because I have a definition for that, in this instance, presently, it has not made  her absence any easier…. 

pax

_____________________________________________“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhere I go, you go), my dear…” -e.e.cummings

31Choices

Over the years Donna and I shared, we were often asked how we managed to stay together for ‘so long’, whatever that time was at that particular moment.  Most times she or I would speak for both of us with some vague “I don’t know, no one else will have us…” quip or other inane answer.  To say we just ‘liked’ each other seems too simple, not elaborate enough…but that’s really the truth.  As I have come to find out, there is a beauty and simplicity associated with truth that appears to be at the very heart of nature itself.

 In May of 1997, a couple of days after my birthday, Donna informed me that we would be renewing our vows for our 25^th wedding anniversary that coming September; that it probably would be a good idea if I didn’t plan any work or projects for that particular week and to make sure any outstanding balances owed by my customers had been collected well before then.  Almost as an after thought she added “You’ll have to go to be fitted for your tuxedo by Friday, just give them our last name… oh, you’re getting shoes too…”  This sounded ominous, having been married for a while, I knew what that meant; it meant that except for me and the man who sharpens my tools, probably everyone else in the city was aware of this upcoming event and all the necessary wheels to make it happen had been set in motion quite some time ago, telling me now was really almost an after thought, a courtesy;  This was going to happen.  She also meant “Don’t screw with me on this one, you’ll lose, big time…”, I could tell that because there had been no discussion, no opportunity for me to protest (if I dare to), oh well, I had been planning to take some time off anyway. 

 We set about doing the things necessary to make such an event happen, one of them being conferring  with the local priest on use of the church, how the ceremony would be conducted and procedural etiquette. I think because we got married on our lunch hour the first time, Donna was keen on doing it 'right' this time.  At one point during our talk with him he asked “What’s your secret for staying married for all these years…”.  There was silence for a good moment, Donna and I looked at each other, and I finally said “ I really don’t know, selective memory I guess…”.   I meant that not as a quip or as some trite retort; I had come to believe and trust in it.  It was the most sincere answer I could give.  Often I have thought about just how and why we managed to stay together through our marriage which at times had been turbulent; probably no more than many marriages, merely the natural consequence of two people trying to live together, but still highly testy at times.  All marriages have their peaks and valleys, and I believe that each peak and valley represents a bench mark of some type.  Some of these are caused by outside forces which are beyond our control.  Many of them are created and driven by our own shortcomings, egos and self will, I know for a fact that was the case in our own marriage, with me doing much of that driving.

I believe the specific actions, incidents, or circumstances, which require us to employ selective memory are not nearly as important as our decision to use it at all. Of one thing I am certain, for a long term relationship to survive, it has to be used with total commitment.  Understand now, I do not claim this idea as purely my own, or even that it is unique to our relationship; I think we all use it at various times, usually in connection with something we have said or done and now wish to forget.  During one period in our marriage, I did enough rotten things that Donna must have worked this idea overtime in order to stay with me, and of course I used it too, though not nearly as much.  Now as I reflect, I’m glad we had it and used it, I guess what I’m really glad about is that we cared enough for each other to be able to use it.  My answer to the priest was not only the best I had to offer then, but it was a deeply rooted fact of the relationship Donna and I had.  When our oldest daughter was a few weeks old, Donna mentioned that it was time for the baby’s ears to be pierced; I said I thought that she should wait and see if the baby wanted her ears pierced, wait, like about 4 or 5 years.  I mean I figured Donna had the right to do that to her own ears, but those other ears belonged to the baby, and she should have something to say about punching holes in them. A slightly heated discussion followed with me thinking the law had been laid down; naturally, the next day when I got in from work, I found a sparkling dot on each of the baby’s ears.  I didn’t say much about it, evidently that ship had sailed, and even tho her actions really went against something in which I strongly believed, I let it go; selective memory.  Even back then, at that early time in our marriage, I think I understood how important doing this type of mental exercise was, if we were to remain together.

 One time we were watching a movie dealing with infidelity, a run of the mill, the deed was done, the one who did it confesses to spouse, and they try to work it out type of movie.  At some point Donna casually asked me “What would you say if I told you I had an affair, would you forgive me?”  Yikes! I was caught off guard a bit, but managed to answer just as casually, “Is he helping with the rent?”.  I don’t think she thought much of my answer; nothing was said by either of us for a while, my mind was scrambling for a better answer.  Was I being setup? Was it a trick question? Man, why did she ask me that!?!  After a short while I said something to the effect that if it had been a one time deal and not a new lifestyle for her, I probably could.  I went on to say that hey, we’re all human beings and we do what human being do, that, although that particular act would hurt and I might feel betrayed, but yes, I could get over it.  Oh, I might have some sleepless nights and cause her some too, and maybe some mean thoughts, but I would get over those too.  True, I might not speak to her for a month or two, other than necessary business, and that after carrying the resentment for a year or so, I thought I would be able to put it away and never bring it up again.  I meant that too.  See, for me selective memory means having whatever madness, anger, and resentment about something, for a period of time, then letting it go; never to be brought up again.  That answer I think she liked a bit better.  Still not sure why she asked me that at all though....

 Sadly I have come to realize that with grief, selective memory does not package  well. There’s no set period of time I can carry this and then let it go, never to be visited again; there's a constant background sadness which is showing itself to be a steadfast companion requiring me to adopt new techniques to deal with it.  The flood of a lifetime of memories appears not to yield to the comforting aspects of selective memory, instead they rush in at any and all times, washing over me, almost drowning me with feelings of fear, raw emotions and stark reality.  Currently I am unable to  choose which memories I have; everything comes and goes at will.  I am hoping that with time and a better understanding on my part, this will change somewhat; I say this because if I am to ‘keep the memory, and let go of the pain’, I think it will be necessary.  This may or may not work, I don’t know yet, grief may not submit itself to selective memory at all, it may continue to run unchecked through our lives, refusing to be relegated to the places we select or accept where we would like it to be placed in our minds.  At the very least, I am hopeful that through some combination of selective memory and understanding, grief, being a necessary part of the new life, will be able to occupy it’s proper place, and we can move forward with it, and with our new lives.

We shall see…

pax

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“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhere I go, you go), my dear…” -e.e.cummings

AboutRight

I'm panicking here, what I started

to write is missing something; it's just not what I

wanted...let's try this:

The morning is dead

And the day is, too
There's nothing left here to meet me
But the velvet moon
All my loneliness I have felt today
It's like a little, more than enough
To make a man throw himself away

And I continue
To burn the midnight lamp
Alone

Now the smiling portrait of you
Is still hangin' on my frowning wall
It really doesn't, really doesn't bother me, too much at all
It's just the ever falling dust
That makes it so hard for me to see
That forgotten earring layin' on the floor
Facing coldly towards the door

I continue
To burn the midnight lamp
Lord, alone

Loneliness is such a drag

So here I sit to face
That same old fire place
Gettin' ready for the same old explosion
Goin' through my mind
And soon enough time will tell,
About the circus in the wishing well
And someone who will buy and sell for me
Someone to toll my bell

But I continue
To burn the midnight lamp
Lord, alone
Darlin' can't ya hear me callin' you?
So lonely
Gonna have to blow my mind
Lonely

  'Mindnite Lamp' From Electric LadyLand album,1967 by Jimi Hendrix 

Damn, now that sounds about right.


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“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhere I go, you go), my dear…” -eecummings

EmergencyRoom

It was the Sunday before Christmas Eve day, 2007 and we were enjoying another one of what we had come to call our ‘Buck-F—k—g-Naked’ Sundays.  A day when we rarely roused ourselves for more than breakfast and bathroom, a day when we went thru the paper and talked about the past week or current family events.  A time for us to discuss what things needed to be done around the house or what I needed to remember for the upcoming week.  Long ago friends and family had discovered that we probably would not be available till well into late afternoon, if at all.  While I scanned my section of the paper and she sorted through the sales flyers I noticed Donna rubbing her shoulder excessively…I asked if maybe she had pulled or twisted it, she said she didn’t remember doing either of those things, but the pain had gotten worse since the night before.  We continued with the paper, but after a while she said ‘I think I need to go to the Emergency Room, this is really getting bad…’. 

An hour later we were sitting in the intake area of the local Emergency Room giving the required information and being reminded that service was on a ‘as needed basis’. Vitals were taken, short version of her medical history given and off to the waiting area we went.  We sat, idly talking about whatever and eventually she was called.  We were shown to a room and some time later a doctor came, did what doctors do and said she was going to order some tests.  I don’t remember what they all were, and it really doesn’t matter, because after about another hour she returned and closed the door.  She said the test had revealed that there was something going on with Donna’s liver and she wanted Donna to schedule an appointment with her primary as soon as possible.  At this point I turned to the doctor and asked what was really going on, well of course she couldn’t be certain without further testing, but it appeared to be lesions on her colon and something about the liver being affected, and that although further testing was necessary, she thought this was the cause of the shoulder pain; bottom line, it looked serious.  The doctor asked if we would like the chaplain sent in, I said yes, and she left.  We sat there stunned beyond words…this was just a shoulder pain, right, a strain, a pull, we could not comprehend what we had just been told.  After a few moments the door opened and the chaplain came in…I don’t remember what he said, between Donna and me quietly crying and the flood of thoughts that rushed my mind, I was numb. 

Later, as we drove home, each of us quiet in our own personal terror, my mind raced; what would happen?  What in the hell do we do now?  Of course more tests were run by her primary and confirmed what the ER doctor had suspected; cancer of the colon which had spread to the liver. Specialists were suggested and their prognosis digested by us; 2-6 yrs as optimistic.  And so treatment begun, Chemo. With all of this occurring during that year's holiday season, Donna wanted to wait until after those those days were over to tell the family.  After the holidays, the  immediate family was brought together and told of the situation; I remember how our youngest daughter leapt from her chair and screamed inconsolably, ‘it’s not fair! It’s not fair…it’s just not fair…’ how our oldest daughter looked at Donna with horror and rushed to her side…how her mother sat, stunned, with eyes welling with tears.  There were the other reactions from other familly members, but I choose not to visit that now.   From that time and over the next four years Donna, I and the entire family lived in what I now call ‘veiled terror’.  I came to understand better the meaning of the sword of Damocles.  For the most part, we were able to do most of the things we wanted to; family gatherings, trips, outdoor bar-b-ques, and of course the everyday living. All these things being planned and organized around Donna's treatments.  But behind it all reigned the ‘silent terror’, that invisible aura of doom.  There was very little talk about the eventual end among the various family members.  It is amazing what the human mind can do when necessary; we were able to, at least on the surface, act as if we did not have a care in the world, but each of us knowing that the clock was silently ticking and that our days for such, even everyday acts were numbered. 

 And to think, that Sunday morning started out as so many others. I will not say that the intervening years went by any quicker or slower than any others, time did what it always does and no doubt what we all also will do someday too, it passed.  During that time we had some great adventures and created some very special memories, all told, we were blessed despite everything that was going on.  Donna and I had many talks about our fears and hopes; we talked about our lives together and reinforced our accomplishments to each other and our family.  We spoke of the many great times we had enjoyed and about how a lot of our disappointments had probably made us stronger.  It, like now was a somewhat strange time.  Of course there were the almost obligatory "...now you find someone else to be with, Bay...." from her and my similarly necessary "Baby, how can I do that when I’ve had the best?" response.  I’m sure we both meant those things when we said them, we just didn’t want them to have to be necessary at all.  It brings me to tears to think about it even now.  Those are the types of moments I don’t expect anyone else to understand or for me to experience again any time soon; that type of simple sincere honesty between two people who have shared a lifetime.  We required no outside validation, we really knew who we were in our relationship, and understood what we were about to lose.  We both agreed, the thought of losing it was so incomprehensible to us, that no amount of time or preparation could be sufficient. I am often asked was it harder, knowing for those four years, or would it have been easier if it was all of a sudden.  I don’t take offense to the question because I think it is a reasonable one; but I’m sure my answer of “I just don’t know…”, does not please many of those who ask it.  So be it, it’s simply the truth. 

We continued to have our Buck-F—k—g-Naked Sundays, and truly relished each and every one of them with even more intesity.  We carried on to laugh, lie, argue and hope, we continued to live despite the terrible events of that Sunday which seems like such a long time ago now, because as human beings that’s what we are here to do, live…and at some point, to die; Donna had said she did not want to be treated like an invalid and I did my best to oblige her. Once during a heated discussion we were having, she snapped at me, "...well maybe I will just move out..", I turned to her and with that special sarcasm reserved for our spouses and asked, "Want me to help you pack?"  Of course I ducked and the shoe bounced harmlessly off the door; as I say we really knew each other.  As I review all the events that have brought me to this point, I remember the courage she displayed, even with all the fear and uncertainty in our lives.  There are times these days when I could use a bit of that courage, a bit of that optimism and I draw on the memories of her to supply much of it.  For us it is a truly sad sequence of events, but now I am determined not to allow it to become an unhappy chapter which rules my life.  I am hoping for more Sundays, more trips, more gatherings, more of it all, it’s called life and we who are left, have to live it.

 Having been where most of us have, we may well be advised to live it or lose it to the unpredictability of fate.  Tho sad, I am not totally unhappy, I cannot be because I have been blessed with one of the greatest lessons of life, to learn that not only can we survive, but that we can thrive; I try to go forward with the hope that we all can achieve anything, that hope does not die with our partners, that in fact, the natural consequence of what has happened should actually empower me.  We know the joy of a great relationship, we understand a lot better than most, the real rewards of true intimacy and the satisfaction of unconditional affection.

 With that in mind, we try to push through this grief, we try to make sense out of the senseless and go the next stage of our lives as truly wiser and more compassionate human beings.  I pray that for us all. 

___________________________________________________________________

“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhere I go, you go), my dear…” -e.e.cummings     

26Visitor

There was a visitor I had the other day whom I had not seen in some months.  It dawned on me that I had not really missed seeing him though. This character did not wait to be invited in, no, he simply walked in, his feet carelessly moving through the empty potato chip bags and fruit juice cans that littered my bedroom floor.  Not waiting for an invitation to sit, he wedged himself between the arm of the lounger and me, crowding me actually; the lounger on which Donna had died.  Before I could protest he spoke, “Whats up Fred?” Looking long and directly into his face I tried to recognize him; his features seemed familiar, but I could not quite bring them into focus.  Looking around at the disaster that had been what Donna and I considered our ‘safe place’, our bedroom, he said “Nice job, got the same plans for the rest of the house?”  My mouth opened to say something, but I never got the chance.  Rushing on he continued: 

 “What’s your problem?, Life got you down? Things not working out the way little Freddie planned?  Bright boy lost some of his shine?   Oh, I know, Donna died and now you’re wallowing in your self pity eh?  What the hell is your problem son, why the Fuck are you acting so damned surprised?  Wait a minute, wasn’t it you who always said ‘everybody’s suppose to get a turn?’, well didn’t you get a turn?  Let’s see, didn’t you get a turn to be with the person you wanted to be with, and for 40 years no less?  Didn’t that person show you that she loved and cared about you more than anything in the world?  Didn’t Donna make you first in her life? Hell, shitface, she stayed with you when you didn’t want to stay with yourself.  And greater than that, didn’t she share her forever with you?  Well, why are you dragging your sorry ass? That girl put up with more shit from you than your mother would have, you had a hell of a turn.  No one said that you had to have a perfect turn, that you even had to like your turn, just that you were suppose to get a fair turn, butthole; I think you got that.  Now look at you, acting like a spoiled-assed kid, ‘oooh I’m so sad, Donna died’, ‘oh, pity me, what will I do now’,  ‘boo-fucking-hoo, Fred’s unhappy’, ain’t that a shame…” 

As I sat there, stunned beyond belief, appalled at the liberty taken by my visitor to say such things to me, especially at this time, my mind raced; I needed to put a stop to this, why was he speaking to me this way?  Couldn’t he understand what had happened, understand that I was grieving?  As I opened my mouth to reproach him, he cut me off: 

“Oh yeah buddy-boy you got one hell of a turn, and this is how you show your gratitude for it.  Remember, it was you who said to others, that life wasn’t always fair, that ‘shit happens, so deal with it’, what's wrong now shitbird, cards don't fit in your hand?  that all a person had to do was to ‘keep living’ and sooner or later life would peel a couple of layers off their asses?  Well didn’t you think that shit applied to you?  What, Fred’s ass too precious to be peeled?  Oh, I know, you don’t like the way Fred’s turn ended, you don’t like that you didn’t get the chance to write the final chapter of that turn eh?  Too fucking bad, that wasn’t part of the deal. A turn my friend, that was all you were meant to have, to make of it what you would, now, you had that turn so go sit your ass down and take all that crying, all that sadness and loneliness with you, no one wants to be bothered with that shit; you didn’t want to be bothered with it before it happened to your ass, did you?” 

Being frozen with disbelief, I couldn’t move, I wanted to bring my hands up to clutch his throat, or at least smash his face, but i could not.  So on he went: 

“You must think you’re special, that the rules that apply to others, don’t apply to you; WRONG AGAIN. You’re no better, no more special than anyone else, so suck it up and move your dead ass on.  What? her fault for making you feel so special?  Bullshit, don’t blame this on Donna, try again. You need to realize shitface that you’ve been blessed beyond anything you deserve. You survived the streets, war, years of being a goddamned drunk, and by the way, if nothing else, be glad you didn’t Fucking kill someone while having your drunk ass turn; after all that you still managed to wind up with a wife that loved you beyond measure, three children anyone would be proud of, and had the opportunity to live a pretty good life compared to most; you were blended into a family that you know cares about you and have always had your best interest at heart…you ungrateful SOB, suck it up, better yet, suck your ass on away from me, I’m getting pissed now…I’m going to let you in on a little secret buttwipe, I don’t believe that you believed half the shit you use to spout off about...…Fucking hypocrite, complaining about your turn…...whole bunch of folks never get a turn, that may not be right, but it happens. What’s that you say, oh yes, Donna did die, but you got a little time to prepare didn’t you?  Too bad it wasn’t what you wanted but you did get some, lots of folks don’t.  Be grateful her pain and discomfort was minimal and that you and the family could be there at the end; grateful that for four years she was able to do pretty much what you and she wanted, grateful that in her last moments, she was at home, with family surrounding her. That for the most part she was able to understand how much every one loved her and only wanted peace for her; and the best thiing you can find to do is sit here and wallow in this shit, why you selfish M-......................."

He never got a chance to finish; that was it, I didn’t like him saying Donna’s name, he had no right to.  Grabbing him, I brought him close to me, I was going to clip his ass, but good; as I brought him closer, his face came into sharper focus…I reeled, geeeze, it was ME I saw looking back.  A bit younger, not as haggard as I am today, but nonetheless, still me.  Releasing him, I wanted to escape, to be away from him, but it was not to be, he wasn’t having any any of it. Now he drew me closer, worse, he pressed the tip of his nose right against mine, forcing me to look directly into my own eyes…...I must have passed out. 

When I awoke, my head hurt and my mouth was dry; had I been dreaming?  Maybe, but the conversation was still fresh in my mind.  The visitor had left and I was alone. Alone to think about the fact that a lot of what he had said was true.  I didn’t like it, but it was.  Wish he’d come back tho, come back so I could tell him that despite my current appearance and the condition of my living circumstances, I was beginning to understand. That all of what he said was the truth.  That I was coming to realize that my turn really wasn’t over, just going forward into a new phase. That yes, despite feeling really crappy now, I was grateful for the turn and that this present ‘me’ was just trying to figure out how to integrate such a traumatic event such as Donna’s death, into my turn.  That I knew that there was more to my turn than just losing her and that I was charged with the responsibility to manage my life and show gratitude to the great lifegiver. I really do understand that it is not all over....... yet, I just need to have this time to adjust, I hope he understands. Feeling kind of sad he’s gone now, and I have a sneaking suspicion he won’t be coming back, I think his time has passed and he knows it. I realize I can never be the person I was before Donna’s death.  

That’s not necessarily bad, just different…and after my seeing my visitor, I’m not so sure I want to be that person again

pax

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“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhere I go, you go), my dear…” -e.e.cummings