Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Grief Bends Time

A year ago today I lost someone I loved and cared about deeply to depression and suicide. I posted this on Facebook the day after Tony's memorial service. 

I've managed to get out of bed multiple times today, only to return to it each time. I believe and meant everything said before: on love living on in our memories and hearts, on the ripples from a special soul reaching out and extending into eternity, on the gift of past shared time with a truly loved one being precious. To be cherished and embraced, to offer comfort and warmth in remembrance.

Yet, though true, today it has been hard to hold... I feel not the warmth of the gift that I'll always have within me, but the fragility of seams and scars surrounding the absence, and the endless beating drone of guilt and regret that I was not more: Before. That I was less than I could've or should've been: Then.

I know the ache I feel is not profoundly unique or special from that of others. It is perhaps less deserved than that of many: yesterday, today, tomorrow. I claim no loss beyond any others; in fact, I wish I had more of the strength I've seen in many. And perhaps it is bad form to share mine, again, here ... as though it is somehow special, or deserves unique attention. But I share it, because I feel like I need to, even if possibly being self-indulgent in expressing it, again.

While walking the dogs earlier, without even realizing they were there, tears were with us. As I stopped to cross the street, "Are you okay?" a couple on the corner asked. Thoughtful concern from strangers.

"Yeah" Pausing, "Thank you..." Pausing again, "I'm trying to be." I suppose that's something.

Earlier, in recounting her own feelings of a devastating loss, a dear friend said "grief bends time." That thought rang with such truth. One moment, it has found its place and you're living on, better for time shared - warmly recalling togetherness and being, embracing the gift you were given and will always have. Then time bends, and it all opens up, and you just fall into it.

After the beauty of the memorial concert, and through some attempts at focusing on today, it opened up. I fell into it.

But time will bend again ... if not tomorrow, perhaps soon. And I'll hear his music again, and - while still missing him - will be able feel the beat in my heart, to have my soul lifted by the melody, and to dance in recollection and love of its beauty.

Rest in Peace - Anton Zafereo - Feb 19, 1969 - Dec 29, 2014

Friday, December 18, 2015

Prepare the Spelunkers

Had a colonoscopy earlier today. The prep before hand was a blast! (get it? a "blast"... see what I did there?) It went as well as you could expect laying on your side in a room full of people, naked but partially covered, and having tubes with "live action/real-time" cameras stuck into your orifices would go. (I was assured that the videos will not be posted, despite their potential of going viral.)

Things were found, removed and sent to "the lab" ... (Jimmy Hoffa was not among them. Presumably that search continues elsewhere. There were also no WMDs. The Department of Homeland Security has been notified.)

Results in 2 weeks. The doctor was unconcerned, so that is what I am as well.

Thanks to my friend Jeff for picking me up at the hospital, and then joining me afterwards in having my first solid food in two days. (And also for not mocking me when I ate every single thing on my plate ... and some from his. Though he did tell me not to eat the plate, so I guess there was some mocking. Meanie.)

I started to feel poorly almost immediately after eating and Jeff dropping me at my hovel, which got worse as time passed - a massive headache in particular. After spending most of the remaining day with it, I checked in with the doctor, and was assured that it was not because my head was removed from my colon. (So there.)

Just a reaction to coming out of the anesthesia, related "physical disturbances" recovery - something that varies both by person and event - and one that will pass with rest and liquids. Dosed with headache medication, did some serious napping, and am starting to feel better.

So, that was my day. And you thought yours was a pain in the ass ... (Okay, yes, that was an obvious joke. Whatever.)

Now it's off to the couch, to Netflix and recover, curled up with the pups. No pink plastic gloves required.

updated somewhat from original version written earlier in 2015

Monday, December 14, 2015

I want to go home.

Frequently I find myself saying out loud how much I want to go home.

"I want to go home."

Even alone in my apartment...
even as I'm lying in my own bed.

I want to go home.

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

That's just mean.

I changed my twitter profile picture from one of Kurt Cobain to one of me today.
cartoon by toothpaste for dinner

Shortly afterwards, three people unfollowed me.

That's just mean.

Hurtful even.


Friday, December 4, 2015

I'm Unable to Read This

And the category is: Good news/Bad news. I bought new cheap reader glasses at the drug store today. I can read without squinting again. Yay! My eyesight is getting progressively worse. Boo!

I remember going to the eye doctor when I first began having problems reading a while ago. Tests and tests (and then, some more tests) followed.

"Is this better?" Uh, I guess.

"What about this?" Worse.

"And this, or this?" The second.

"And this? How is this?" Was that a trick question? No difference. Are you trying to trick me? Don't try to trick me!

"Okay, what about this?"

There was an eon of that, back and forth, on and on, until the verdict: I could no longer read without glasses. (Yeah, thanks for that news flash.)

Knowing that of course there could be any number of potential issues, I ask "So, is there anything else to worry about?"

He doesn't even look up. "Nope. You're just getting old."

Seriously. He said that, exactly that. Bedside manner, FAIL.

"You SO could've put that better!" I exclaim. "How about, after all that you have seen, after the vagaries and multitudes of life and living that has passed in front of you, your eyes have grown tired. They need to rest. Let's help them rest ... You know, something like that."

He laughed.

So, anyway, I bought new glasses today. I got new glasses today, and NOT because I'm even older now than I was then. My eyes are tired. There is much that they have seen, absorbed, focused upon and considered, scrutinized and helped to transform into understanding, viewed near and afar... and now, they need more rest.

Is it any wonder? They need more rest.

I'm helping them.