Monday, January 18, 2016

Keep flapping your wings...

This morning I woke up with these two songs in my head: "Live Like You Were Dying" and "One Way Ticket" both songs that were big hits for Tim McGraw and LeAnn Rimes but both are about deeper things...

Too many things have happened since 4/29/2015 and I don't recall them all like I thought I would. But the emotions are there. I was raw, I was angry, I was happy and I was realistic. 
I had to be. 

In about 11 days, it will be 9 months. I could've had a baby in that time period. I will have 3 months to go for a full year. 

That will be my New Year's. Not Jan 1st like everyone else. But Friday 4/29/2016. That will be the day I can say whatever I want. Do whatever I want. 

Right? 

Sure. Anything. 

I dream big. I talk a big what if. I think that what if all the way through til it's exhausted. I think the proper word would be analyze but let's say dream instead. 

To dream is more romantic. 

I look at pictures of far away, down the street, up the road and across the country. I imagine life there. My life? Maybe. 

Because I bought a one way ticket, on a west bound train - to see how far I could go - 
because I know I will die one day and I don't want a what if to be in my way. 


I loved my husband I really did. But I will still love him. But he's not here anymore. So I have to talk to someone I don't know. 

OR give thanks about today and wish for a better tomorrow: "Like tomorrow was a gift / And ya got eternity to think about what to do with it" 

BUT it comes in hours so don't think too hard. 

I used to be routine. I am not anymore. I do what I want. When I want. I don't report anyone. But myself. I hold my head up high. I don't look down. Only when I am wearing pretty shoes. 

And someone says "I love your shoes..." 

I say thanks, but I THINK - yeah they are taking me somewhere... for something to meet anyone and to say everything. 

And just like my note from The Universe said... 

Friday, January 8, 2016

Sometimes I think the world is out to get me...


I hate it to say but she's right. 


Monday, January 4, 2016

Boy am I glad I read that...

My mom is great. She's an honorary Jew for when she lived in Washington DC proper she lived in a Jewish neighborhood. She learned how to negotiate, hustle and make potato pancakes from scratch.

That's me, my little brother and my grandmother - when I was 25 

She told me you can be whatever you want because I was limited. Being a young mother, divorced back in the 60s,  all she could be was a teacher, a nurse or a secretary.

Her mom worked in that red house Victorian style looking building in DC - the old Dept of Agriculture and to this day, I don't recall her having any plants in the house. Nor pets.

Anyways.




But what my mom has become since my husband's death is worried, worried and more worried. Asks me about my money, my health and my cats.

But what she fails to ask is: how are you friends treating you.

Well, here it goes. I have about 5 of them here in town, that I can call on and not have to go through the laundry list of what's been going on since 4/29. I have to do a lot of reaching out so I hope my 5 pals aren't sick of me. Yet.

That's fine now, but looking back on it I was in shock.

And what I have been telling my therapist, my BFF since I was 12 and my other dear friend in Colorado - "I would hate to have to explain a year to them after the year had been completed."
The year meaning the year after my husband's death and the year that I set aside to grieve and honor my husband because they didn't care enough to reach out to me...

I don't expect dinner at the Palms or a cruise on the Italian coastline... but I don't expect to be shunned because they didn't know WHAT to say... hello! is good... how are you? is fine and no you don't have to bring it up. It's not ugly it's life.

Mom zip lines only cause roller coasters
bore her. 
So mom says one day on the phone: "maybe you will have to make new friends."

At 46 (almost); that's a scary thing think of. Yikes. I mean what would talk about? Boys? Make-up? Our zits?

Death and Taxes. You can't dodge them.

People are acting like I've done something wrong. I've done nothing wrong folks. But I feel like I'm paying the price on behalf of your ego.

So my mom sends me these books on grieving - fine so does the pastor at the church that we are members of that we've not set foot in due to my husband's bad heath and yet they remember me.

Huh?

Ok fine. Got it. I guess I won't go ablaze after all.

BUT what this one book says, about understanding your friends is that some will forsake you. Some will say hurtful things... if they could only know one thing; what you don't say is louder than what you might say that you think is hurtful but don't so you say nothing thinking it's a better idea...

Yeah eating a Snickers and drinking a diet coke is not cancelation of calories... it's a cover up.

And yeah I have validation now.

Thanks, mom. I'm glad you sent it to me, for I left it at your home cause I was tired of reading them.



Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Dear So n So - Thanks I think.

Dear So n So,

Whoever was in charge of this year gets a smack in the face.

I have endured two deaths, new laminate flooring and a booming business. The death part I can handle the aftermath no.

People have been really nice to me but friends have shown their colors. I look back and I see why.
Not that they don't care they just are too busy. Busy is a dirty curse word in my book now.

AM I SAD?
of course I am. Am I angry? Fuck yeah I am. I can handle death a 100 times over. The loneliness, the dark hours and even the craving for someone to kiss is gone. When will it come back? That is the burning question. That is the frustration I have.

Do I think about it? YES.

AM I getting better at it... yes I am - I am making strides. I think maybe my friends should too. I would hate to run into them and have to explain the year to them. You know? embarrassing.

So pick up the effing phone. no wait. don't you're too late.

So to the person in charge of this year, thanks. I think.

JK



Sunday, November 8, 2015

now i know how the promoters felt...

Take no offense... I am only being honest.

There was a time when George Jones would not show up at one of his own shows...
I'd hate to be that promoter. 

money - time - calls - trying to get the radio and papers to talk about it...POOF-BAM-POOF The unwanted call... 

he's not coming... or no phone call. 


George's stupid reputation preceded him.

No-Show Jones was the name. He was better at it than Axl Rose. I am sure there are plenty patched walls in those old theaters he played in with pencil marks with a circle and "this is when the Possum didn't show up" arrows pointed towards it. 

He soon lost it. Everything. 

THEN someone helped him. Can't recall who. 

So how does this pertain to me?

Uh yeah - no one calls. no one shows up. everyone bails. I have to start over - 45 - reset everything. Cause someone died. Friends I thought I had for the past 20 I didn't share with my husband.

Thanks. 

I'm waiting on my someone that helps me. I had one guy already do the best he could. I will remember his name on my death bed. Will yours be on it? 

I say that sarcastically cause 1-I didn't ask for it. 2- I don't think I should have to do all the work. It's been 6 months. I should have had friends in place right? Ready to go when the shit hits the fan. Well... hindsight is 20/20 - easier said than done. Whatever. 

See you around. Your silence is loud and clear.
So my sage advice? Get your own. 

Thursday, October 29, 2015

I never got my bagel or coffee

Woke up at 3AM with Steve Ray Vaughan's song "The Sky Is Crying" in my head... 
Right at the time my husband laid down 6 months ago to die. I was told it took about 2 hours to happen. So at 5AM I fell back asleep and I had the most beautiful dream.
I dream in color all the time.
You know when you see people in your dreams and they look so healthy and good like they were supposed to be all along? 
Yeah, that's what Steed looked like. Thin, blonde shoulder length hair dressed in all black. I dreamt that we were sitting on a couch in a coffee house like a brick/loft building. Not a Starbucks. Just talking nothing important. 
Some people were causing a scene and I went back to the counter asking for my bagel and cream cheese and coffee as if it had been forgotten. 
"No, it will be right out..." I was told. 
Then we walked into a church that used banquet chairs instead of pews. I thought I saw Steed's old friend Al Pesto in the back. 
I asked Steed "Isn't that Al?" 
He didn't seem to think so or maybe he didn't look. 
We sat down and someone that looked like Kevin Federline came up to Steed and said "time to go" and took his hand he floated up to the ceiling. I tried to go with him, but he let go of me. 
It was like those scenes in a movie that the people in the photo are fading away? 
I floated back to the floor and cried on the church chair seat as the preacher waited for me to sit in the chair. Like everyone else. 
Then I woke up to another song in my head that I have now forgotten. 

PS- I thought I lost the last photo of us on my phone and I had no recollection of 'deleting' it until I went to my recently deleted and recovered it. Whew. 

PPS - I never got my bagel or coffee 

PPS- Nor have found my Nashville photo scan disc 



Monday, October 26, 2015

I love this better than anything...

Dear 6 months.

You not quite here by calendar standards but it's coming soon.

A little less than 3 more days.

It's been 6 months.

It seems like it sped by...

Vinyl, Roswell, Athens, Buckhead, Aisle 5, Nashville, Houma soon to be Chicago...

then at home in DC for Chrismas.

Those are my stepping stones.

It will be 6 months in a couple of days.

It was - ten days ago it was gonna be 6 months. Wait? What? I am in the now not the past...

I refuse to be pinned down. I have accepted my weight, my height and my age.

Maybe not that order... but I am working on being alone. I don't care anymore what people say.

These are just things I think at 2AM.

Or 3 in the afternoon.

Or after a few glasses of wine...

I wanna go. I need to stay. I am hungry. No no not another bite. I'll pop like a tick.

This is not going to become me. Death isn't pretty. Wearing black is. So I refuse.

I ain't scared now, but I might be in 6 more.

How do I mark the milestone, a pebble in the Chattahoochee? a good meal? a drive around the block?

Lord knows I can throw...

"So kiss me and smile for me..."



#sleepbetter #gettingthere #waitingforthesun