Are We There Yet?

It's not feeling a lot like Christmas for me this year, and I can't quite put my finger on why that is.

Although I am not at my normal high level of happiness, I can't say my lack of Christmas warmth and fuzziness is due to sadness; in other words, it's not because I am feeling sad that I am not "feeling" Christmas. I recognize the motions, the flurry of activity around me - watching the news reports of holiday travellers braving the uncharacteristically challenging weather to connect with loved ones, the ebb and flow of shoppers as they run around frantically trying to check everyone off the gift list - and I am mostly unmoved by it.

It's not that I don't have anyone to be around this year. Yes, my son isn't with me, but so far I have received at least three invitations from friends to come and spend Christmas with... I know it bothers the people I care about to think that I would spend Christmas alone; and for that reason alone I am trying to make an effort to push myself towards some kind of plan of where I am going to be on that day.

But honestly, I don't know if I will be successful in making that plan. In a way, the thing I want most for Christmas this year is a little clarity. I want to be solid on the pieces and parts that make up my life - I want to be comfortable in my own skin. The past few weeks I have been brainstorming and strategizing about the activities (both professionally and personally) that I want to spend my time on in 2011, and this holiday down time is the most optimal opportunity to do that. Everyone else is busy with their loved ones, the hustle, the bustle... and I get to focus on: me. And when I look at it from that perspective, it's not such a bad thing. Right?

I was having lunch with an insurance colleague of mine earlier today, and I realized it still has the power to bring me to tears, this talking about my "new life" and how I want to create it. I imagine that once I can pull myself out of the intangible void of ideas and concepts and settle more into the concrete world of reality, I won't be so prone to being emotionally overwhelmed by these thoughts. It's kind of like being at the bottom of a huge mountain you are meant to climb, not having any idea of how you are going to make it to the top. But history tells me how: one step at a time. One foot in front of the other. One minute, then another minute.

Time does fix most things - not because it passes per se, but because everything else in one's world evolves through time's passage. Everything changes. I'M changing.

And all I want for Christmas this year is for time to pass.

Shirley's Theory of Relativity

Examiner.com article #1


At 4:08 a.m. this morning, my son Christopher left for boot camp. Several months leading up to his eighteenth birthday, Christopher was preparing to enlist in the United States Marine Corps - demonstrating an interest and persistence that I had not seen for anything in his whole life up until then.

Knowing this day would come, several of my friends have asked me, "So, Shirley, how are you going to feel when he is gone?" And my response has always been, "I don't know.. I will tell you when he's gone."

There is an interesting kind of symmetry...


Read the rest of this article here.

The Death of Communication

Recently I received an email (and subsequent replies) from certain members of the Bunny's side of the family - the side that I have learned, through past negative experiences, to steer clear of. Curiosity getting the better of me, I scanned through that first message. What caught my attention was the use of the phrase, "to my family." It was this sentence that stopped me cold.

I thought for a moment about who I consider to be part of my family. To me, "family" are people - through blood or association - who value my contribution to their lives. People who listen to me, ask my advice, call me out of the blue to just see what I am up to. People who emotionally support me. People who tell me when I am being stupid; but in a kind, unhurtful way. People who show me - by their actions and behavior - that they love me, no matter what.

In thinking back to those past experiences with the Bunny's relatives, not one speck of this criteria is met. But interestingly enough, this realization doesn't inspire any powerful emotional response from me. My thought process follows this vein: Me, them. Different values. Different lives. The Problem: their expression usually causes me pain. The Solution: close off access.

And the answer was suddenly clear. Their power is only as significant as the focus I give it. Kind of like that scene in Nightmare on Elm Street, where Nancy realizes that if she just turns her back on Freddy Kreuger, he won't be able to hurt her. She turns her back, and he vanishes into a puff of smoke.

I read two sentences of the second email, then I deleted it. By the time I received the third email, it was easy to delete without reading because all of my desire to communicate, to connect with these people, has died. In fact, the feelings I have for 'everything Bunny' - the human being he was, our life together - is more alive to me than anything with these people will EVER be.

One other thing that sticks with me from that first email. The on and on of how the Bunny and this person had such a "solid relationship." Yea, right. Talk is cheap. You can fantasize all you want about the relationship you think you had, now that the Bunny is dead and you have no opportunity to walk that talk. Just in the same way the people you care about - if they exist - might fantasize about you, when your day comes. But that doesn't change history. That doesn't change all the hurtful things you are capable of doing to people you supposedly care about while they are alive.

So, here is where we officially part ways. I wish you well in the life of your choosing. I choose something different.

Peace.

Edgy

I dreamed last night that my husband was making love to me... and I woke up very early in the morning (unusual for me - I'm usually not crawling out of bed until after 7AM) feeling VERY agitated. "Antsy" is my word for it. So that was how my day began today. Not a good sign, at ALL.

People that know all of my most intimate secrets know that as far as physical relationships go, I've never been what you'd call an "expert." Not to imply that I would rather be a big slut, mind you, but as far as sex goes the whole concept has always been somewhat baffling to me. Which is quite ironic, given that the Bunny was a guy with a fairly active sex drive. And I came to realize that, when my heart and my mind and my soul are tied up in it, I am a much more willing participant.

I worry about that now. I worry about the fact that through my relationship with the Bunny, I evolved into a higher comfort level in terms of physical intimacy. I know I probably come across as this intimidating, aggressive woman in real life - which invariably scares most men off - but I am definately no "ice princess." Even now, where I feel like I am capable of being in another such relationship, I don't really have the desire or energy to expend on the "looking."

And why not, you may wonder? Well for me, it begins in my head. And what I am afraid of is that the barriers and obstacles and walls around my brain are so thick, so strong, no one's going to be able to break through them. No one is going to be able to get to... me. I think my underlying fear is that even if that were to somehow happen, once they get in there they aren't going to understand me. Accept me. Love me. And the thought of that sort of rejection is too painful for me to bear.

I never understood how I managed to be lucky enough for the Bunny to find me. Because that's exactly what happened - I certainly can take no credit for finding HIM. In fact, if it were up to me, we never would have dated each other. That's how bad MY judgement is. And at this point in my life, that's probably about as good as my ability to recognize and appreciate another potential mate is right now. Crappy.

I spent some time visiting Liz this afternoon. I couldn't wait to get there, and when I did I immediately burst into tears - kind of like I knew it was okay to cry in that place. With my best friend close by. But I felt far from comforted; I felt very, very alone. I felt abandoned. I tried to talk to Liz, but because I knew she wasn't listening to me and couldn't talk back, it just wasn't the same. And I looked at the beautiful blue sky, and the ripples in the nearby lake, and the leaves gently moving in the trees - and I asked God why. Why am I destined to lose all the people that love me?

And as I was sitting there, crying, feeling sorry for myself... my boss and another gal on our team walked up, with an older woman. They were showing the woman some property. And my boss (who is the only other person I've met in my life who is very similar in personality and characteristics and experiences to myself) crouched down next to me on the grass, gave my shoulder a squeeze, and told me how blessed she was that I had come into her life. That I did a lot of great things for a lot of people, and that she admired my strength. I was an inspiration to her.

She wasn't put off when I sobbed, "I hate my life right now" and insisted I didn't know what I was doing. She smiled, looked deep into my eyes, and told me: "Shirley, sometimes you need to take some time for yourself. Just put all your worries to the side, and do what you need to do for YOU." And I thought of all the things I was worried about, and I thought back to my advice to everyone around me going through some of the losses I have also been going through: "It's going to be okay. Just take one day at a time."

And I got the message. I didn't lose all the people that love me; as long as I am alive and I have the capacity to love others, I will always have people that love me. I have to trust in that.

Here's a good quote I came across today. Compliments of Mr. Spencer W. Kimball, it fits the vein of this post:

"God does notice us, and He watches over us. But it is usually through another person that He meets our needs."

For all of you out there who are hurting, for whatever reason, whatever the circumstances - you must believe that there are people in your life that love you. They do. Absolutely. Those people may not be perfect, and they certainly aren't mind-readers. So whatever you need, it's up to you to communicate it. And if you keep putting it out there, and keep putting it out there, and keep putting it out there... the Universe, your friend, will find ways to help you get those needs filled. Peace.

Realignment

I was having lunch with a friend the other day; he asked me how I was doing. I am starting to get busier working with my families on the advanced planning side, drumming up more singing opportunities, feeling myself settling into some sort of routine - but I'm not happy. I think back to the Bunny and in comparison to how I felt during our marriage, no. Definately not happy.

Which doesn't mean that I am unhappy exactly; it's a very strange condition to find myself in. To add to my emotional dilemma, my kid was sworn into the Marines a week or so ago which means I've been forced to acclimate to the idea that he will be leaving my home in a very short period of time to start his own life. I'm glad I've managed (as a parent) to get him to this point, and naturally he is very excited; but as far as how I am going to feel without him close by every day? I won't be able to answer that question until he leaves. People close to me have asked me for that answer as well - I understand the worry that motivates those inquiries. But this is life. Life continues to move forward, and I must continue along with it.

If I had to pinpoint where I am right now, I would say that it is "in transition." I'm in between. As always, hoping for the best. Searching for inspiration. Trying to connect with people - trying to make it easier for those people to emotionally affect me. Interact. And ultimately, bring back my life's meaning. Sometimes it's a struggle, sure. But this is life.

And life is the keeper of my salvation. I just have to have faith.

The Natural Planning Model

Recognizing my ongoing struggles with my infamous to-do list, I decided to seek professional help. I came across a book recently, entitled "Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity" and I immediately thought, "That's for me!" I've had the book for a few months, and here and there as time has allowed I have been absorbing the tips and advice from "personal productivity guru" David Allen.

One of the projects I have had on my list that I haven't seemed to make significant progress on is cleaning up and organizing my home office. This room, out of all the rooms in my house, is a vital part of my core, my identity, the yardstick by which I frequently measure my self-worth. Yes, that puts a lot of pressure on such a small amount of square footage. But as is my nature, because I am constantly juggling multiple projects - both work-related and personal - my home office has invariably become my primary command center. And over time, as it has become more cluttered and out of control, I notice my stress levels and feelings of being "emotionally overwhelmed" have correspondingly risen. So now, I've decided to draw that proverbial line in the sand. Time to take back control of my office and my life.

Back to Mr. Allen. Chapter 3 is all about "getting creative projects underway" using the five phases of project planning. Don't get thrown off by the use of the descriptor "creative" - the phases can be used for all kinds of things on the to-do list. What's important is to understand the concepts, and then that understanding can be applied to a variety of different circumstances. One of the first methods Mr. Allen talks about in this chapter is the Natural Planning model. He uses the example of planning a dinner date - though most of us do this unconsciously and without thinking, we go through distinct steps to arrive at the end of that process. The result is: spending a nice evening having dinner with friends. But Mr. Allen breaks down each step of how we get from "I have an idea!" to the fulfillment of that idea. As an exercise, I used the Natural Planning model late last evening to approach trying to tackle my home office organization:

Step 1: What is your purpose?

My purpose is "to clean up my work space and have all of my work materials in specific locations in order to function effectively and productively with my sanity intact."

What I have learned about defining one's goals is, the more specific you can describe it, the easier it is to actually achieve success in accomplishing it. So, make a note of this.

Step 2: What does a "successful outcome" look like?

Again, this refers to my note in step 1. So, in imagining how I would like things to be where my home office is concerned, here are some of the requirements that have been bouncing around in my head:

• No papers on the floor
• Every new incoming piece of paper has a location where I can easily file or store it, thus easily locating and retrieving it when necessary
• Nothing piled up on my desk
• Dust-free
• I would feel a great deal LESS stressed out

Mr. Allen refers to this as "outcome visioning." You are defining the what - how the physical world should look, sounds and feels to you in a way that best fulfills your purpose.

Step 3: Brainstorming action steps...

In the Natural Planning model, once you have defined the what, your brain should automatically begin the brainstorming process. Mr. Allen describes this as your brain trying to resolve the gap between what you want (i.e. I WANT to have a clean, organized office) and the current reality (i.e. I currently have a cluttered, disorganized office).

Step 4: Organizing

Again, once your mind has created the list of to-do's, you will automatically start to organize them. In my case, I need to sort out all the papers on my floor before I can determine if a) a file exists for the information or b) I need to create a new file in my drawer. I need to pick the papers up off of the floor before I can actually dust and vacuum. And so forth and so on.

Step 5: What is the next action?

This is where I usually fall off the wagon... because what I've been doing is thinking about all of the steps involved in getting my home office to the desired state ("clean and organized") rather than just the single NEXT step in that project, I become paralyzed and my purpose never gets accomplished. So in doing this little exercise I now have a list of activities in the proper sequence, written down on paper so I don't have to worry I will forget anything, and a place to track my completion of each activity (I just need to line them out as I do them).

My next action? "Make piles of the stuff on the floor, sorting into the following categories: stuff to keep, stuff to do, stuff to shred/trash." I can certainly make piles - making piles is easy. That's what I've been doing all this time which has caused my current situation. I'm just going to tweak that one step a little bit, and that's going to put me on the path to accomplishing my objective... a clean and organized home office.

I can tell it's already working... I feel a great deal LESS stressed. I can't wait to see how I'm going to feel when I can cross this one off the to-do list for good.

The Other Nine

Way back in the formative years of my sales career, the Bunny had a saying for those times when I would go on an appointment with a prospect, make all the necessary and appropriate points in my sales presentation, but for some unknown reason my prospect didn't simply "roll over" as I had been conditioned to expect during my training classes. "Babe," he would say, "they don't have the same script as you do."

Usually I would spend the next several minutes griping and complaining and creatively expressing my frustration to my exceedingly patient husband; but in present day, when a similar scenario crops up... hearing his voice in my head saying those words to me, I can't help but smile.

Ever since the Bunny and I first got together and continuing on beyond his death, I have been "challenged" by members of his family. As conflicted as I've always been in trying to establish the parameters of my relationship with these people, every new negative altercation pushes me further and further away from the place that speaks to "the Bunny would want us all to get along..." While that may be true in a certain sense, I also believe that the Bunny would not want me to be the recipient of such hateful behavior as I've had the misfortune to experience from a few of them - and now, with the Bunny's presence no longer an obstacle I often feel like one of those new sorority pledges that suffer through hazing for a week, hoping to be included in the group. Except in my case, that week never ends... and it's becoming crystal clear that I will never be included. I will always be an outsider.

It's been eighteen months since the Bunny died, and periodically I receive paperwork in the mail regarding the disposition of the Bunny's estate. As his spouse and Trustee, all of that junk rolls down and stops at my feet, forcing me to deal with it. So the other day, I received some such paperwork, having to do with the portion of the Bunny's pension that was intended for his ex-wife as part of their divorce settlement (the Bunny was seperated when he and I met; when the course of our relationship became evident, he went ahead and officially filed for divorce).

The letter indicated that the company required some additional court paperwork from the ex in order to release her portion of the Bunny's pension, as per the preliminary divorce information the company had kept on file. Now, since the divorce, she had subsequently remarried and moved out of the country, so I guessed that they were sending me a copy of this paperwork because of the company's inability to connect with her.

I consulted with my attorney. I was technically under no obligation to take any action; according to the terms of the letter, if the company did not receive the requested court paperwork in a certain amount of time, the pension benefit would be released to the Bunny's estate. In other words, me. But when I thought about it, this had nothing to do with me. Thus... conflicted.

I finally decided to send the ex an email, explaining the details of the letter and what the company was requesting, why they were requesting it, and the contact information of the benefits representative should she need to talk to somebody for additional information. I kept the tone purposefully cordial; I closed with the statement "Hope all is well with you and yours."

I actually didn't expect a response, but boy, did I get one.

Acknowledging that she was entitled to the pension, the ex immediately followed up with "I will not be pursuing or responding to this matter" and that I could "have the money" as she was sure I would find something to do with it. She goes on to accuse me of believing I "am the only one entitled to his life and his death" and made sure to point out that I "was only in his life for a blink of an eye."

"I will never pretend that you mean anything to me."

Never in my wildest imaginings could I have expected this kind of hateful vitriol as this woman so seemingly effortlessly and gleefully spewed at me. What the HELL!!?! But there was a good side to all of this. That conflict from before? About the relationship? Gone. Resolved. That door was slammed shut, for good. And I'm okay with that. The Bunny would approve.

Was I upset? Sure. But just for that day. Two weeks or so have gone by, and my life has moved on. Past that moment, and past a miserable woman who clearly has her own demons to battle. The last thing I heard was that her current marriage was in trouble. Coincidence? Hmmmm.

But once again, I hear the Bunny's voice in my head... and I can't help but smile.

Peace.

The Face Of Fear

So, last night my son blew past his "scheduled to be home" time and no phone call to give me a heads up. He showed up an hour later, but that was a most excruciating hour for me, given that my mind tends to create all sorts of morbid scenarios about what may have befallen him... I didn't used to be like this; I used to trust more in the concept of "God watching out for him" and believing that he'd be okay - but frankly, I think back to God not watching out for the Bunny, and then Liz - two people that I would have never conceived would be gone this early in my life, even with my overactive imagination. So, needless to say, all bets are off where expectations of "what could happen" are concerned...

Death of loved ones changes a person. I felt it after the Bunny, and I feel it again with Liz. Except the challenge I am trying to overcome is this: I had an internal sense - despite my sadness and angst - that the person I had become post-Bunny was a "better, stronger" person. Post-Liz, I feel like I have swung too much in the other direction. I feel more anxious, more "out of control." I used to feel I had a better handle on things, on those to-do's in my life. Now the majority of time I find myself procrastinating, putting off and putting off and putting off some more; as if my brain is sending me signals that are the equivalent of flipping somebody off. "Yea, so, if you DON'T get this done.. what's gonna happen? Is your life going to end? Well then, fuck it!"

That's my perspective lately. It's like I don't want to start a new project because every day the thought steals into my head: "If I die tonight, this project is going to be unfinished." I don't want to leave things unfinished. It's the equivalent of playing the game "Musical Chairs" - I remember playing it as a child, and the physical sense of unease that the music was going to stop, and I would be the one left without a chair to sit down in.

There's that saying I've come across from time to time "Live every day like it is your last" or "Live like you are dying" but in reality, if one was to truly live like that, it would be a very sad way to live. Living like you are dying tricks you into thinking that nothing you do matters. Like things are hopeless. Like you have no future. That's how I am feeling right now, even though I know - logically, intelligently - that this is not the reality. It's not MY reality. At least, it wasn't before Liz died.

Because I am the morbid sort, I sometimes imagine if one day, when my son is out having fun with his friends and NOT calling me to check in and put my fears to rest, that something tragic happens and his life ends. I can't even process THAT thought coherently. Gone is the belief that "she's been through enough, God wouldn't allow that to happen," now, I'm wondering how my luck's going to hold out. How many more of these events am I going to have to experience, and at what point am I going to crumble? How many different ways can one person be hurt? Let me count...

There's another saying: "God always takes the good ones." Why? Goddammit! If anyone needs more "good ones" it's all of us miserable wrecks here on earth! It's like a company facing layoffs - all the good employees leave. And it's the beginning of the end for the company, no matter how long it takes.

I'm struggling to keep hearing the music. I wonder if this is the beginning of my end.

Touch

I was singing at a funeral this morning, and while I was sitting there - listening to some of the gentleman's family share their memories about his life - I finally realized: death is as unique and unquantifiable as love.

No, I haven't cracked up. What I mean is, to each person, love is a completely singular experience. The object of one's love makes that person happy in ways he or she cannot really explain; and while outsiders could probably observe, "Yup, that guy's in love!" they can't really empathize with how THAT person feels, himself. Internally. All we can do is smile at the visible signs of the emotion, and relate to our own feeling of happiness - if we have been blessed enough to have experienced that type of love for somebody else.

Being a part of that funeral this morning, listening to the family relive the memories of their father/brother/uncle/grandfather... I got the impression that this gentleman was a very significant prescense in the lives of his loved ones. There were several people gathered to celebrate his life - family, friends, colleagues, and even strangers (that would include me, as I did not know the gentleman personally).

I've never been a big "tell stories during a funeral" sort of girl, but I have to admit, it's the stories that connect people together. It's kind of like music. I know that when I sing, like I did for this service, that my listeners connect with me on some emotional level. I think that's one of the reasons I enjoy singing so much; in that it helps to inspire feelings in others. I listened to this gentelman's stories, as told by his family, and I got to spend just a moment in this man's world. How lucky am I?

Since the Bunny, I notice when somebody loses someone they love. Can I relate? Sure. Do I know what that person is feeling? No, I don't think I can. I can only respect that they ARE feeling something - maybe I can't see any visible signs, or the signs I DO see I just can't interpret - but whatever the situation, my hope is that the person feels the connection. It's the connection that is most important. Whether our loved ones are physically with us or not. Even now, I can feel the Bunny in various rooms in my house. The house itself looks different from the remodel, but he's still with me - because I still love him. Always will. And that puts a smile on my face, because I know I will never be alone.

I'm going to close with a post I found on my Facebook page this morning, put there by one of the many connections I have made in my life (thanks Andrew!). I am reminded again how we all impact people - sometimes smoothly, sometimes painfully - and in doing so, the story of our own life is written. I hope that when my day comes, my loved ones are reliving memories of me - and with any luck there will be a few strangers present that I can have a positive impact on too. Icing on the cake.

"We each have a star - all we have to do is find it. Once you do, everyone who sees it will be blinded." - Unknown

Yes, It IS All About Me...

Today the sadness caught up to me... the day started out like any other; lots of things on the to-do list, a full pot of coffee - I even took a shower and got dressed for work! And what happened? Out of nowhere, I began to feel like no matter what my intentions, I was being pulled down, down, down - inside my head. And my head wasn't in a very good place.

I was speaking with a friend earlier this evening, about all the changes in my life since the Bunny died. Sure, it's a lot for a person to go through; but I have been going through it and "doing well" based on most people's evaluations of my progress. My friend was telling me that it was understandable that I still loved the Bunny, and that I will "move on" when I'm ready... but the thing is, it's not loving the Bunny that is holding me back. What's holding me back is that I loved my life. That one the Bunny I shared together. Even though I have been moving forward, and making changes, and picking up pieces, and figuring out things that I want to be doing - the truth is, every step I take forward takes me one step further away from that life I used to have, the life I loved. The life where I was... happy. Fulfilled. Content. Cared for. Complete.

It makes me wonder, on my journey to this new identity... if I create a new life, a life that I love as much as I loved that other one - does that mean I really didn't love that old life? That I only believed I was happy and it wasn't true? That I was faking it? Had the Bunny still been around, would I have eventually grown tired of being with him and we would have split up sooner or later? If I create a new life, a life that I love as much as I loved that other one - is that betraying the Bunny's memory? As if to say I don't really miss him? As if to say... it was merely inconvenient that he died, but look at me, I've gotten over it?

I guess if I had to put my finger on it, I would have to say I'm feeling guilty for being happy. I realize that if the Bunny were here, he would be the first to tell me that his hope would be that I was successful in finding my way back to happiness. And because that's what he would want, I would naturally want the same thing. But feeling it is quite a different thing than simply wanting to feel it. It's kind of like eating a big slice of German chocolate cake, and then feeling bad because you've completely blown the diet (and if you are a teenaged girl, your immediate reaction is wanting to stick your finger down your throat).

It's the end of the day, and I am back on the upswing. By the time I wake up tomorrow, I know I will be in my more normal, postive frame of mind. I will have lots of things on the to-do list, I'll brew a full pot of coffee, I'll take a shower and get dressed for work. The difference will be I have a training class and a few meetings to attend, which will put me around people. Being around people reminds me that I am alive, and that my presence in the world matters. Somebody, tomorrow, is going to smile at me, and I am going to smile back... and taking that small step, I will feel happy.

And feeling it is quite a different thing than simply wanting to feel it.

Redirecting..

I haven't felt very inspired to write lately... I find this fact interesting because it feels to me like ever since Liz died, the thoughts in my head have been very muddled. It's like I can't focus on anything specific - there's a lot going on in my world, and my brain has simply "checked out" and is being carried downstream with the current.

I have less than three weeks left of school, something I am latching onto as the turning point closest on my horizon. I say things like "oh yeah, I'm going to do 'x' after I finish school..." because I imagine that I will have more time to spare when no longer obligated to write papers every week, do daily posts to meet online requirements - at least, I am hoping I will have more time once school ends. My plan had always been to ramp up working (as in "income-generating" work) to coincide with completing my degree - as one came to an end, the other would carry on. Kind of like chain smoking, I suppose. But at least these activities would keep me doing something legitimate. Instead of hanging around the house all day in my pajamas.

My instincts tell me that my life is once again preparing to shift. I feel it; there isn't any evidence, no logic to my reasoning, but I have this very distinct feeling that I need to NOT make any sudden moves, now more than ever. It's difficult, because I feel restless... it's not like I don't have enough to do - there's always something to do - but I think, related to my lack of inspiration, my mind is simply not engaged in anything right now. It in "survival" mode. I equate it to eating a bunch of junk food, and your body suffers because it gets no nutrients from eating like that... you might get a jolt of sugar that revs you up for an hour or two, and then you crash hard. So you might get through the day like that, but when it's all said and done you are pretty much going to feel like shit.

In other news, my kid - with the help of one of his good buddies - is applying for a few classes at our local community college. Christopher has been focused on enlisting in the Marines - which technically I don't have a problem with - but one of my friends recently pointed out that what with all the global unrest, chances are good that he would be sent into combat. I certainly wouldn't want that to happen. I tell Christopher on occasion to think about the impact on me, his mom, if he goes off and gets himself killed. Selfish, I know - but historically kids tend to not listen to stuff their parents say anyways, so I have to hook into things that work for me. Emotions. Like guilt. Guilt is very effective. It can make all sorts of people do all sorts of things they might not have done otherwise.

I miss being able to call Liz up and tell her about the goings on in my life. Every so often I think "oh, I need to call Liz up and..." then I remember: there IS no calling Liz up, not anymore. That still sucks big time for me. I do find that it makes me feel better hanging around Billy, trying to help him navigate through some of the to-do's that naturally occur when someone dies, listening to him talk and telling him what I am thinking - we both still talk about Liz like she is here with us. I notice the family does that as well. Liz's mom was over at Billy's the other day along with Liz's sister, going through some of Liz's clothes to donate to the battered women's shelter, and I heard her make a comment about Liz - something in the present tense. And all of a sudden her voice cut off, as if she realized that everything about Liz was now past tense - I wasn't watching her face as she was speaking, but I felt the weight of her realization. And it broke my heart.

This is the reality I try to help families understand when I sit down and work with them on life insurance and advanced planning stuff. We can negotiate the numbers and coverage and services and monthly premium payments till the cows come home, but what I really try to get across to a person is the fact that when he or she dies, their loved ones will be devastated. There is no better word to describe it. And because death is one of those taboo subjects that most people don't want to think seriously about, I run across people all the time that are really offhand in their treatment of the whole discussion. Which, from my perspective, pisses me off of course... but I realize, that's why MY job is so important.

We'll see where life finds me three weeks from now...

Potpourri

I saw this in one of the magazines I receive regularly at home... this one, ironically, is all about "unique gifts for special people" - thanks, Universe!


Living Life

Life is not a race - but indeed a journey.
Be honest.
Work hard.
Be choosy.
Say "thank you", "I love you", and "great job" to someone each day.

Go to church, take time for prayer.
The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh.

Let your handshake mean more than pen and paper.
Love your life and what you've been given, it is not accidental -
Search for your purpose and do it as best you can.

Dreaming does matter.
It allows you to become what you aspire to be.

Laugh often.
Appreciate the little things in life and enjoy them.
Some of the best things really are free.
Do not worry, less wrinkles are more becoming.

Forgive, it frees the soul.
Take time for yourself - plan for longevity.

Recognize the special people you've been blessed to know.
Live for today, enjoy the moment.

Buddy, Can You Spare Some Change?

If I had to come up with a phrase to describe my emotional state right now, it would be captured by the following two words: completely spent. As in, I don't have anything left. My head is pounding, I don't feel like I have any energy, and - as usual - I have about a million things to do on that fucking list. That to-do list which never, ever seems to be done. Usually I can deal with that realization, but at this very moment it's just pissing me off. Everything is, at least for right now...

Now, there's two OTHER words that describe my emotional state: pissed off. In an earlier conversation, I summarized my current dilemma of not having my Liz here (previously filling the role of "best friend in the world" that was my sounding board, shoulder to cry on, sole person I would share all of my innermost thougths with, etc.) to connect with; to keep me grounded; to keep me... sane. Amidst all of this turmoil. Continuous movement underneath my feet. I feel like the proverbial dog that's been kicked one too many times. Enough already. Don't make me prove my love for you. I love you. Enough.

And there it goes.

If I want to indulge in tears, my own little "pity party" as I like to refer to it, I can do that all by myself. Which seems to be the norm lately. On both counts - being alone AND feeling sorry for myself. When I let my more logical side step in, I can figure out this probably isn't very healthy. Or productive. But sometimes the logical doesn't get a word in edgewise because the emotional is just blathering on, in the loudest voice she can. The silence is deafening.

So where is the positive in all this? This thought echoes words I verbalized earlier today. I'm struggling... struggling to find it. Am I looking? Absolutely. I wouldn't be who I am if I didn't look for the positive in the darkest of circumstances... but - as the Bunny well knew - I also wouldn't be who I am if I asked for help right away. Like my Liz, I can be pretty stubborn. More to the point, I don't know WHAT to ask for... If I am patient, maybe it will hit me.

Or maybe I just need a few more kicks.

Find Yourself

When you find yourself in some far off place
And it causes you to rethink some things
You start to sense
That, slowly, you're becoming someone else

Well, you go through life
So sure of where you're heading
And you wind up lost
And it's the best thing that could happen

'Cause sometimes when you lose your way
It's really just as well
The things that would have been lost on you
Are now clear as a bell


And then you find yourself.






- Excerpted from "Find Yourself," Brad Paisley

The Language Of Love

Recently I read an interesting book by Gary Chapman called "The 5 Love Languages" - the premise of the book is that every person has their own unique way of feeling love from the people around them. Each person can - through 1) Words of Affirmation, 2) Quality Time, 3) Receiving Gifts, 4) Acts of Service, and 5) Physical Touch - to some degree feel the love, but there is one that is considered the "primary" way. What's interesting about how Chapman explains each method is the fact that it is two sides of the same coin, the yin and the yang: one person's primary way of feeling love is also the way to hurt them deeply. Which means you could do some real damage to someone if you weren't careful.

There is a saying, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder" and the same goes for feeling the love. I can tell my son that I love him until the cows come home, I can provide all the trappings of a good life, I can spoil him by buying him a bunch of stuff - but he may not feel truly loved by me. When I read that, in this book, it blew my mind! How could Christopher NOT know that I love him? It's like finding out all of a sudden that the world is round and not flat. But love is one of those mysterious things... most people think they have a handle on it, but they don't; not really. I have always assumed for most of my adult life - certainly for all of Christopher's life - that he could see all of my struggles, all of my frustrations, all of my anger, all of my tears, all of my questions about life and its meaning - and intuitively understand that all of it is driven by my love for him. But how could he understand that, I mean, really? Ultimately, it matters not if these things are true or untrue, if he never truly feels that I love him.

The other point the book makes is the importance of keeping someone's "love tank" full. The love tank is just like a gas tank in car. No gas in the tank, the car doesn't go. Not enough love in the person's love tank... well, then you start seeing a world of problems - acting out, rebellious or bad behavior - all sorts of things that you wouldn't immediately connect to not having enough or needing more love. I did use it on Christopher not too long ago, to put Chapman to the test: Christopher usually drags his feet when I ask him to do chores - taking out the trash is one of those. For a couple of days I made it a point to give Christopher a big hug and say "I love you" - sometimes randomly throughout the day, always before bed when I kissed him good night. He gave me a few funny looks - he isn't used to me expressing so much physical affection; I don't normally. But sure enough, shortly after that I asked him to take out the trash - okay, I DID have to ask him twice! But only twice - he did it without complaint. It was almost... magical.

I've been trying to find evidence of these concepts in the world around me. I'm still trying to figure Christopher out, but I know my own love language is a combination of acts of service and words of affirmation. If I've said it once to Christopher, I've said it a thousand times: "Why can't you just HELP me?" That's acts of service. Words of affirmation are a little trickier - that's when somebody tells me I am a good person, or that I did something good, or some other positive verbal reinforcement. But for me personally, it depends on who's doing the talking. If I think someone is just trying to manipulate me through flattery or something, well, that's just going to piss me off.

I'm still no expert at it, but it does make me stop and think from time to time. It's funny what a little love can do. Especially in a language you understand. When you can feel it.


"The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love That Lasts" by Gary Chapman

Storytelling...

Elizabeth Marie Hamman took leave of her beloved husband Billy, family, friends, colleagues and students on Sunday, July 18th, 2010.

Born December 30th, 1970 to Bernie & Dodie O'Donnell, Elizabeth was the oldest of four children: brother Patrick and sisters Katie & Erin. Her mother describes Elizabeth as an imaginative child, highly attuned to feelings and emotions; a "sensitive soul." At the tender age of two, upon coming across a crying Dodie, Elizabeth soothed her mother with a thoughtful, serious confidence beyond her years: "It be better, mama, it be better..." An animal lover from an early age, Elizabeth was devoted to her first dog appropriately dubbed "Scratch" - most likely due to the activity she was frequently occupied with - and was found on occasion to pledge allegiance to her stick horse. Words the O'Donnell family uses to describe Elizabeth: Smart. Creative. Stubborn. Elizabeth, who always liked numbers and did well in school, went on to attend Cerritos College in 1987, where counselor David Young first suggested the possibility of a career as a mathematics teacher.

From humble beginnings as an Instructional Aide for the Mathematics Learning Center at Cerritos College in 1990, Elizabeth's passion for mathematics was a driving force in her exceptional career. Elizabeth went on to teach at California State University Long Beach in the late 1990's, ultimately accepting an invitation to join as Professor in the Mathematics Department at Cypress College in the Fall of 2000. Never satisfied with the status quo, Elizabeth spearheaded many innovative programs which incorporated the effective use of emerging technologies within several new instructional strategies. Her students continue to use many of her ideas throughout life while singing praises for Professor Hamman's unique ability to "make math magical" and fun.

Elizabeth, through her tireless efforts and influence, inspired not only her many students but also her colleagues; fellow Cypress College mathematics professor Cheryl Gibby recalls how Elizabeth took over her mentorship some years ago when Cheryl's former mentor retired. What began as a joke blossomed into an earnest endeavor, through which Elizabeth's creative influence inspired Cheryl - already a 38-year academics veteran - to forgo her own retirement plans in order to share Elizabeth's innovative techniques with her own mathematics students.

Through a blind date in 1991, Elizabeth met her soul-mate and future husband, Billy Ray Hamman. Married on July 9th, 1994, Elizabeth and Billy spent the next sixteen years, sharing life and love together. In addition to the warmth of his wife's smile and her "beautiful eyes," Billy proudly describes Elizabeth as a "good military wife" - always supportive, even during three separate occasions during their marriage when he was called away for six-month stretches; fulfilling the obligations of his role as Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps.

Elizabeth and Billy filled their days together with the many activities they both enjoyed - bike-riding, geocaching, movies - making each other a priority with "date night" every week, without fail. Frequently traveling and cruising, Elizabeth and Billy most recently visited Ireland in 2008 - during which Elizabeth blogged about their adventures, sharing experiences and photographs with friends and family back home. An avid reader of historical romances and science fiction, Elizabeth loved fairies, labyrinths, and other magical things. In 1995, Elizabeth and Billy expanded their duo to a threesome with the adoption of cat Tinker Bell, joined by fellow feline Cammie in 2007. Carried over from her childhood days of "dress up," Elizabeth and Billy attended the Labyrinth of Jareth masquerade ball six years in a row; for which Elizabeth would make intricate masks by hand, feeding her "arts and crafts" habit.

While eager to share his wife's many accomplishments, Billy acknowledges that Elizabeth herself was always humble about her talents; during a recent conference in Michigan in 2009, Billy remembers her somewhat amazed revelation when Elizabeth was made aware of "how much she actually knew" about mathematics. Though not entirely comfortable with pure spontaneity, Elizabeth liked to plan out the details of any activity in order to get the most out of it - whether lesson plans, vacations, or anything in between. She liked to take charge, a characteristic which Billy admired and acclimated easily towards.

In honor of Elizabeth's lifelong contributions, the Elizabeth Hamman Math Scholarship has been established through Cerritos College, and a second scholarship is currently being set up through Cypress College.

Grateful that God saw fit to loan Elizabeth to this world for thirty-nine wonderful years, her loved ones are nonetheless devastated to lose her after such a seemingly brief time. Our hearts go with you, Elizabeth, for safe-keeping until we are once again reunited in everlasting glory.

Elizabeth M. Hamman

12/30/70 - 7/18/10

For Liz

I said good-bye to my friend today
I didn't want her to leave
There were stories I still wanted to share with her
She always enjoyed my stories
So I tried hard to make them exciting
Hand gestures
Changing the pitch of my voice
Crazy facial expressions
The funny ones would make her laugh

Even when my stories weren't so funny
My friend would still listen while I shared them
If I cried, she would comfort me
And give me words to soothe my battered soul
I'm trying to hear her voice in my head now
I've never felt so lost
I've never felt so full of despair
What would she tell me, if she were here?

And I realize
She wouldn't have to tell me anything in particular

Just being here would be enough.

Right Here Right Now

Back in those happier days before the Bunny's accident, he jokingly made me promise that if anything ever happened to him, I was to cremate him and take his ashes to the top of Half Dome - an insanely huge mountain in Yosemite - to scatter. Back in 2003, we were married in the meadow directly in front of this mountain, near Stoneman Bridge. That particular day in May of that particular year, all of the meadows in the valley were flooded with water - all except "ours." So it was meant to be - and endorsed by the Universe that we got to follow through on our plans.

I have often wondered what the Bunny could possibly have been thinking when he gave me that mission: was he serious? Was he joking? I am not a hiker - he himself had hiked up Half Dome at least twice that I knew of, but I was always the one to sleep in the tent, to cook the food when he and his friends would go do something physically exerting - bicycling, hiking, whatever - and then make it back home, hungry and ready to eat whatever I had prepared. That was what I was good at. I don't even like walking uphill in a parking lot.

So it was kind of ironic that in the last eighteen months since the Bunny died, I was now faced with this near impossible task - questioning his motivations, questioning his sanity - hiking was not my thing! Definately not my idea of fun. What was I supposed to get out of it? He never would have given me a task just for his benefit - that was not the kind of person he was. I know that in some internal place, if he truly meant for me to do this task, he had reasons for it that had nothing to do with him. It was something for me. I just could not figure out what it was.

I was talking to the Bunny's neice Jessica recently, about my frame of mind lately, now being here on my own. I've felt so... I don't know - not necessarily "unhappy" - but I just feel so tired of life. As if to say I would not be at all upset if a truck ran me down in the street and I died. Living takes so much... energy. Wanting to keep living takes a lot of energy, energy I just don't feel like I have. Jessica says I am depressed, and that's probably a safe bet. I want a reason to keep living. I need a reason to keep being happy.

I've been training for this hike for at least the past six months, maybe more like ten months. Working out with the trainer, joining my weekly hiking group... thinking about the Half Dome hike. I didn't share this with most people, even those close to me, but I would often fantasize about getting to the top of that mountain and just flinging myself out into space. It would be so easy - "Girl Dies In Freak Hiking Accident" - sounds perfectly plausible to me. But maybe I would do something like that, and I would get to whereever the Bunny was, and he would be SO disappointed in me! Like I had a chance to make something meaningful out of my life, and I wasted it. But feeling sorry for yourself is a hard thing to get beyond. So I continued to think about it, all the while I am training, cursing the Bunny for making me do this.

So the week finally arrives - I will do my hike on Wednesday, June 30, 2010. Jessica came, and my very best friend Liz. We took turns driving up to Yosemite (approximately six hours from where we live), got settled into Curry Village, which conveniently was right up the road from Stoneman Bridge - I never realized that before. So the next day we went to scope out the trailhead, and visited the meadow where the Bunny and I were married. I looked up at Half Dome, and tried to imagine the hike. I couldn't. But damn, did that mountain look huge!

Jessica and Liz made sure I got up on time the day of the hike - 4AM - and we headed for the trailhead at 5AM, the recommended start time to make it to the top and back before sundown. Liz ended up slipping on some uneven ground, and I didn't find out till later but she messed up her knee, which put her in a brace and on crutches. Fortunately Jessica was there to guilt her into going to the First Aid office and getting some x-rays... I was grateful that Jessica was there to help take care of her. So I set out on my own, and it wasn't long before I joined up with these four Hispanic guys - a 52-year old guy named Jose, his 26-year old son Jesus, his brother-in-law Mike, his nephew Alberto, and Alberto's friend Brian. Both Alberto and Brian were 22; I spent most of my time chatting with Mike, who was 39 like me, and had done this hike three times before. Being able to talk to people while hiking makes all the difference for me because it distracts me from the physical part. Back home in my hiking group, the first day I joined I hooked up with my friend Bren who let me talk her ear off the whole way - and pretty much every week after that - which is one of the reasons I was consistent with it. Because just hiking around is NOT my idea of fun. Hell no! But communicating with people - now that's something I know I do well, and I enjoy it... to the point that I can suffer through the physical stuff.

I got to see some amazing things on the hike, I took some cool pictures - and there were many, many opportunities where it would just be so easy to slip on some loose gravel and tumble down that mountain. So easy. But I tried to be careful. I had to get to the top. It was what the Bunny asked for, and dammit, I was going to do it. Once I got there, all bets were off, of course. But I had a mission I needed to complete.

There were times during the hike that I felt I just couldn't go on. I was tired. I just couldn't lift my leg up on one more rock. I couldn't keep hiking up these steep inclines. But my compadres were there to encourage me, telling me to rest, take it easy... and so I rested, and I took it easy, and I kept going. I thought of all the other things I would rather be doing (sleeping being the foremost in my mind) - once again cursing the Bunny for making me do this. Bastard! If he wasn't dead I would SO kick his ass! F-er!

Finally, we were getting close to the top, and I had to climb up a bunch of stone steps before getting to the cables. To get to the very top of Half Dome you have to climb up these cables. It's fairly intimidating. In fact, the previous three times Mike was saying that he would always get scared when he got to the cables, but he trusted in his physical ability to climb them, and so each time he would make it to the top despite his fear. The steps were frightening enough, but the cables - I can't even describe what it looks like. The people on the cables look like little ants, climbing up the side of the mountain at a good forty-five degree angle. Every ten feet or so there is a wood two-by-four so you have something to step on as you climb sheer rock. Every few minutes I would pull my camera out of my hiking pants pocket (hiking pants have lots of pockets) and snap a picture. So I am going up the cables, and I get to about 20 feet from the top. And I stop.







The distance from the bottom of the sub-Dome to the top is approximately 400 feet. You basically need a lot of upper body strength to pull yourself up - with the help of the cables and the two-by-fours - after hiking six miles up the mountain. So needless to say, I am completely wiped out. I look up - I can see the edge at the top, beyond that, blue sky - and I think: I can't do this. I just can't do this. I'm so tired! Why do I have to do this? I don't want to do this.

And then I remember. Shirley, you are doing this because the Bunny asked you to. And it's the last thing he's ever going to ask you. You have to do this. I know you don't think you can, but you have to. Because the Bunny asked you. And you love him.

Dragging my body up that last 20 feet was probably the most difficult thing I've ever done in my life. I was convinced, in my head, I just couldn't do it. I was ready to turn around. But I couldn't have lived with that. So I did it. I don't know how I did it, but I did it. And finally, I was on the very top of Half Dome, looking out over the valley. I did the impossible! But you know what, I didn't feel like I accomplished anything great. But I did notice that I did accomplish it, when I was absolutely convinced that I just couldn't. And maybe that's what the Bunny wanted me to know. That even though I sit here now, and I don't think I will ever have another reason to be as happy as I was when I was married to him, that it IS possible - it just might happen. And figuring that out didn't necessarily make me happy, but it did make me less sad. I guess I am kind of at neutral. Neutral is an okay place to be for now.

I said my final goodbye to my husband, on the top of Half Dome, in one of his most favorite places in the world. Many miles away, part of his ashes were being buried in the ground, where I can go and connect with him as the desire strikes me - or anyone else can go, for that matter. One of his relatives recently told me that "it wasn't about us" meaning, those of us left behind. But to say that was to miss the whole point altogether. It's ALL about those of us left behind. We are the ones who guard the memories. As now I guard the memory that I did something for the Bunny that I never imagined I could do. Something he clearly believed I COULD do, with the proper motivation. And he was right. And because he was right, I learned something about myself, and about the people in my life that love me, support me, care about me.

My best friend probably would have loved to take off for home after she got hurt... but she stayed with me. Bren kept me hiking every week, training for this hike. Mike and Jose and the boys kept me company all the way up the mountain, and all the way back to the valley. Even dragging myself up those cables - strangers who were on their way down gave me encouraging words "just a little more" and "you are almost there." And that's the other thing I think the Bunny wanted me to know: that even though he couldn't stay with me, he knew I would be okay in the capable hands of those people I care about and who care about me.

I have to trust that everything's going to be okay. I may not believe it, I may not have any hard evidence that it will, but I have to have faith. With faith, I have hope. With hope, I have a reason to keep living. I have a reason to be happy. I am alive, and I get to do what makes me happy, and more to the point I know what happiness feels like. I remember it. So I will recognize it when I see it again.

Do I think I will ever attempt hiking Half Dome again? Um, probably not. Once was enough in this lifetime. For some things, once is enough. For everything else, I guess I will just have to wait and see.

Peace.

Anything But Happy

One of my friends posted this on her Wall in Facebook, and it struck me with its timeliness. So I share it with you now. Thanks Jenny!


"There comes a time in life when you have to let go of all the pointless drama and the people who create it, and surround yourself with people who make you laugh so hard that you forget the bad and focus solely on the good.

After all... life is too short to be anything but happy."

- Unknown


(And thanks Universe, for your hand in delivering this message.)

Rosebud

So I received some feedback recently from some members of the Bunny's family about my recent decision to bury his ashes (see previous post). I have only myself to blame - I solicited it - and honestly, if I had to do over again I think I would hesitate to so willingly open myself and my motivations to people. No matter what their relationship to my husband, or - by default - myself.

Among the most disturbing for me personally: "Logically I understand why you want to do this, but personally I think it is a selfish idea... we want him back but this is not going to happen. It is fact, and all we need to do is accept it." "It would be unfair just to do something for our sake, just to try to make us feel better when it would not benefit us in any way." "None of this is about any of us. Our struggles. Our pain. Our issues. He (the Bunny) made clear what he wanted, and I think we should follow it through completely."

"Everything that was a possession of Russell's was bequeathed, and little is going the way Russ would have wanted. He would have been pissed."

I've realized something about the Bunny's death - I suppose it is true with the death of any loved one - death brings out everyone's true colors. It's kind of like when you first start dating someone - you don't really get to "know" them until you see them in various situations. Something as little as the guy opening the door for you when you get out of his car. Grabbing a towel to dry when you are standing there, washing dishes. Buying you a cupcake and leaving it for you on the counter, to suprise you when you get home.

These people, clearly, did not know the same man I knew, that I was married to. The man who I knew loved me - who inspired me, who made me happy to be alive, whose mission it was to make me the happiest wife on the planet. How did he do that? He shared my values, my dreams, my goals - he supported me, laughed with me, checked me when I worked too hard... and together we made a home. A life, together. Everything was right in the Universe, because I had this man by my side.

Would he be pissed? I agree. He WOULD be pissed. He'd be pissed that his family - people that have known him their whole lives - could remember him, in death, only in terms of "how it benefits" them and reducing him to the value of his possessions that certain individuals feel they are entitled to and have not yet received.

So to those people, I say "thank you." THANK you for saving me years of agonizing over how to bond with you or attempting to develop closer relationships. Because clearly, my memories of the man who was my husband is a different man than the one you knew. The Bunny NEVER made it about himself. And just like trying to describe a sunset to a colorblind dog, to continue to explain myself and my feelings to people that lack the capacity to understand them is just not something I think the Bunny would approve of.

An aside: I want it stated for the record that certain others of the Bunny's family have been with me - physically, emotionally - supporting me non-stop since his death. Taking an interest in my life, offering help, letting me talk, letting me vent, letting me cry... they've been around since the "before" part of the Bunny and mine's life, and even though they've shouldered their own pain and grief they have not abandoned me in mine. To those people - and you know who you are - you are forever in my heart; a place that knows you make the Bunny proud.

This is MY truth. Peace.

Mud Run

So, I recall making mention in a long-ago post that I rarely have dreams about the Bunny, since his death I mean.

He was in my dreams last night.

For those of you NOT in the know, the Bunny was cremated. Whatever one's personal preferences about that - mine included - that specific instruction was clearly communicated to me while he was alive.. the context of it? I sit here in front of my computer, struggling to recall the memory. We weren't having a serious, sit-down discussion about death, mind you; I remember the tone of his voice: it was playful, teasing. As if to say "It's completely ridiculous that I am wasting breath to even say these words, because there's no way on EARTH either of us is going to die anytime soon." I think that's what is so shocking for me, even here, now - a year and a half later - is that he WASN'T SUPPOSED TO DIE RIGHT NOW. It's like those old sci-fi movies, where the heroes time travel and there's this big brou-ha-ha about going here and there, doing this and that... be careful, because you might step on a bug and the entire universe will implode. It's a paradox.

Because we never had that "serious conversation about death" I don't really know what the Bunny would have wanted me to do, not really. The cremation part I got down - but what's really ironic is that now it's my job to get people to pre-plan this stuff, and I myself can't remember my own experience. It is literally a fog. I remember certain people being around - my brother one of those - but as far as normal memory recall, I kind of have to rely on assumption. I look around my surroundings, I see the changes, I see what's missing... I see the box with my husband's ashes, sitting on my dresser. Waiting.

I dreamed the Bunny and I were at my new office, and we were walking around, taking a tour... and there were stacks and stacks of such boxes. "Cremains" they refer to them... I guess it makes it sound more politically correct than saying "ashes." Gentler, somehow. I don't know what difference it makes from the widower's perspective - to me, the result is the same. My husband is dead and in a fucking box. So, we are walking around and apparently we are having a discussion (I don't remember exactly what we were talking about), and the Bunny picks up one of those boxes and tells me something as if to say, "This is what I want you to do," - which in my head I'm thinking, yea, I've done that - NOW what? But then I wake up.

One of the big things in the funeral business is the idea of memorialization. How to remember the person that's died. VERY important for the loved ones left behind. Since coming to the Park I have learned things I didn't know before - and one of the aspects of ashes, particularly, is that once they are scattered, loved ones have no place to visit. Clearly it's important to people, judging by the number of visitors to the Park each day.

I fully intend to see through on the Bunny's final wishes - whether he meant them or was "just kidding" is irrelevant - but my biggest fear in all of this is once that's done, he will be completely gone. Nothing concrete which tells the world, "This was Russell James Downie, husband of Shirley Denise Downie - Living Forever In The Hearts of Those Who Loved Him." Who's to say I don't meet someone and get married some day. I'm not sure right now how I'll feel about losing my name - I mean, after all, it's changed a few times already! It also occurs to me that if I cannot go any place to visit, to remember, to cry - neither can the Bunny's son or the rest of the family. I'm not sure how they would really feel about it - it's never come up, because generally people won't question people who've lost their spouses for fear of being inappropriate or causing them pain. But I would want to know. Maybe I will get the courage up to ask the question.

But not today.

Holding On and Letting Go

I'm falling apart... I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain there is healing

So I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin')
I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin')
I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin')

I'm barely holdin' onto you...

- Jason Wade, Lifehouse - "Broken"


These are the lyrics of one of my favorite songs; in fact, it was one of the songs I chose to include on a CD of music I compiled shortly after the Bunny's death - songs that reminded me of him, reminded me of myself - in my own unique way of expressing my thoughts and feelings. Music does that for me... it's a huge part of my life, kind of like oxygen is a huge part of my life.

So recently I pulled out my copy of that CD and have been listening to it. I remember how I felt when I first listened to it... I realize I feel differently now that some time has passed. I still feel sad, mind you, but not quite so intensely. I know the Bunny would want me to go on with living, and be happy. And I AM happy... I just believe I would be MORE happier if he were here beside me.

I have plenty of things to do to keep me busy; both Christopher and I are still in school - he's hopefully going to graduate sometime this month, and I have three classes left until my graduation in October (five months from now) - so I am starting to salivate at the prospect of recouping the time in my schedule that right now is devoted to studying and homework assignments. And then there's my hike... actually, the Bunny's hike. My last, best tribute to honoring his memory. What will happen after that is anyone's guess. How am I going to feel? I don't have a clue. Am I scared? Shitless.

In my weaker moments I imagine myself hiking to the top of the mountain, feeling distraught, and flinging myself over the edge - thousands of feet straight down. Although I think I might hit some rocks along the way. That reminds me of a scene in one of the Bunny's favorite movies, The Emperor's New Groove. The dumb sidekick, Kronk, falls down a flight of stairs and each time he lands on a body part, he yells out the body part: Klunk! "Shoulder!"... Klunk! "Back!"... Klunk! "Knee!" - whatever it is Kronk says exactly, it always used to make us laugh our asses off. The memory of it makes me smile.

But here, in my day-to-day life, I feel somewhat hopeful. I have plenty to do, I am starting to make new friends, I've been making an effort to get out and socialize more... it's kind of like conditioning for my upcoming hike - I may bitch and whine a lot and feel like I just can't drag my butt out of the house - but when I do, I never regret it. There are still people in my world; I am not completely alone. I know people care about me. And I feel an obligation to those caring people in that I recognize that I AM STILL HERE. "Barely holding on," true, but holding on just the same.

What I've let go of is the need to know how it's all going to turn out. Just have to go with the flow. Just... breathe. Live. And be happy.

I won't forget, Bunny. I love you always.

One Sunday Morning

In a recent conversation with a friend, I made mention of the fact that my son Christopher will be 18 years old in a couple weeks. I always affectionately refer to that as the "kick Christopher out of my house" day - not so much for the fact that I want to kick him out of my house, but that I want him to grow and be influenced in the ways that only firsthand life experiences can teach a person. I myself left home shortly after I turned 18, and the world was a completely different place than living at home with my parents. More challenging. More unpredictable. But with it came the freedom of choice; the control to make my own decisions - for better or for worse - and in those "for worse" instances I experienced the biggest growth moments. This is what I hope for my son - because in having those experiences he will be tested and shaped into the man he is destined to become.

I talk a good "strict parent" game, but in truth I attempt to give Christopher as much freedom as possible. I don't want to be so controlling of his environment that I limit his ability to develop friendships, to have some fun once in a while... so what invariably happens is I find myself very frustrated that he doesn't comply with my wishes (i.e. chores, homework, etc.) but still manages to obtain the reward. When I read that statement back, the first thought that pops into my head is this: Shirley, that's because you aren't a very good parent. And I readily recognize this fact. I have friends who have children - sometimes they aren't even THEIR children! but by virtue of relationship they have to deal with them; as in, boyfriend's children from a previous relationship - that make it appear so easy and effortless, I feel doubly guilty that I either missed out on the "good parenting skills" gene, or it was so under-developed that it's completely useless now.

Christopher has gotten in the bad habit lately to be very vague in his whereabouts. It's all "I'm going to the park to hang out with my friends, Mom," or "I'll be back before dark, Mom," and because I feel powerless to lay down any concrete laws, I respond, "Okay. Have fun." So this was the set-up to this morning's situation: last night after dinner - we did have dinner together, my son and I - Christopher informed me that he was going to "so-n-so's house for a birthday party" and that he would be getting a ride home from whoever. Fighting my immediate urge to yell, "No, you CAN'T!" I merely said, "It's kind of late to be going out, isn't it?" But in the end Christopher left to go to the party, and I eventually went to sleep, knowing he could get in through the garage when "whoever" brought him home.

Fast forward to Sunday morning (today). Intending to go to church - I attend a lot of church on Sundays, mostly because of my choir involvement - I took a shower, got dressed, heated up my coffee from the day before... then I checked the garage door that opens up into the kitchen. Unlocked. Normally what is supposed to happen is Christopher comes in through the garage, then locks this door (which prevents anyone from breaking into our house through the garage). So I go to his bedroom and poke my head in.

He's not in his room.

For the next hour or so I text all of his friends (and their mothers) I have numbers for; trying to find out about the party, if anyone has seen Christopher (after texting and calling his cellphone and getting no answer).. finally, FINALLY, I get a text from an unrecognizeable number from my son, telling me that "he accidently fell asleep" at his friend's house. I told him to call me, and when he did I got the address of the friend's house and went immediately to pick him up. I couldn't say anything to him on the drive home, but Christopher knew I was pissed off.

We get home; Christopher scurries off to his room, and I go and text everyone I had contacted earlier (including his dad) to let them know I had found him. Then I called him out to the front room.

I am hoping that with this conversation, Christopher has a new understanding for what it's like for me, having lost the Bunny, to wake up and find out "my son didn't come home last night." I told Christopher that he is my only son, and I am his only mom... and I needed him to realize that I need him to help, because I feel so alone a lot of the time; I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. Falling asleep at his friend's house wasn't a big deal to him - but it had a significant impact on me - very much like throwing vinegar into an open wound just to see the injured person writhe in pain and agony. I know he didn't intend it, but I had to open his eyes to the fact that if he isn't able to help me, for God's sake! Don't make me hurt worse.

The last thing I told Christoper is that I hoped he would never have to go through the experience of having someone he loved not come home one day, because as far as experiences go, that one really sucks. In this instance, I am hoping that Christopher can grow vicariously through MY experience - to realize how a person's actions influence those around him or her, that nobody lives in a vacuum.

And I wait for my own growth moment. But I'm guessing I have to get rid of the concrete first.

At The Park

I recently made a decision to accept a position at a local cemetery. No, I'm not going to be a grave-digger. My actual role is helping families pre-plan their funeral arrangements (which includes purchasing cemetery property) with the idea that a) through pre-planning a person can dictate how their "final celebration" will go, and b) it removes the burden from distraught loved ones so they don't have to make all of these time-critical decisions at potentially the worst moment of their lives.

People that know me in real life might think it odd that I would choose to immerse myself in activities so closely aligned with death, given my experiences with the Bunny and all of that. But I look at it from the perspective that who better to counsel people on why pre-planning is so important? I have had the unique experience of experiencing the death of someone very close to me, and but for one sentence - one instruction I carry with me - I would have no idea of what the Bunny would have wanted me to do in terms of "memorializing" or "final resting place." I wouldn't want to guess, and then feel guilty that I made the right decision. This is what I intend to help my families avoid.

I've been in training for my new job for a week now, and it has been fairly difficult emotionally speaking. I'm not the sort of person to share my personal stuff easily, so almost none of the other newbies in my training class know of my history. Even my director doesn't know it - it only became relevant for me to share in two conversations with two different people. And my ongoing challenge in working with families going forward - as it has always been in the life insurance business - is how to connect with those families on a meaningful level WITHOUT being in the position that I have to keep reliving my own loss. As I've always said: I like a challenge.

This organization is one of the largest of it's kind in the world, and I have had the benefit of hearing many stories from our trainers (who are the Sales Directors)... I have been in plenty of sales organizations that always talk a good game of "treat the customer well" and so forth, but I have to say that I have never been in an organization that really made me believe, in my gut, that there was some other underlying motivation beyond "selling a lot of product." In this case, the organization really means it when they've been telling us all week long: "The family comes first. Take care of the family, and the sales will follow." Customers are not "customers" - they are families. They are human beings. And we ARE dealing with death.

This is the perfect role for someone like me. I have a very strong internal sense of "helping" my fellow man. And in this case, everyone on the planet will need what I've got at some point in their lives. As it has been said, "Death is no respector of time." Boy, do I know that, and then some!

It was almost accidental that I got to this position. In fact, there were things going on the day of my first interview, and I almost blew it off. But the more that I am learning, the more I realize that this could be a meaningful part of "the rest of my life" - the concept that still brings me to tears. Why am I still here? What important stuff do I need to still do, that I am here without the Bunny - literally the love of my life?

Coincidentally, I made earlier mention of the Bunny's friend who also died in the accident. He is buried at the Park (that's what they call the grounds - and it really does look like a park, very serene and peaceful and beautiful). On Thursday, I took my lunch and sat in my car just outside the chapel where his services were held. At that time, the Bunny was still alive, at least physically. I just sat there, and reminisced, and absorbed the beauty of my surroundings. I was amazed that a whole year and a half has gone by! Life keeps moving ahead. I'm still moving ahead... not as fast as I have historically, but faster than I was at the start of this journey; the one where I embark on "the rest of my life."

My house renovations are nearly complete. The house is beautiful; it has a lot of the "Shirley feel" built into it. But if you look closely, you can still see some traces of the Bunny. I think he would have liked how everything came out. And believing that he would have makes me all the more determined that I will enjoy it, and enjoy my life... for the both of us.

Rules Of Engagement

1) Aggressive.. but NOT an Asshole: This is a very fine line, usually having to do with the level of ego involved.

2) Sense of Humor: Must not be bothered by a girlfriend who sometimes displays a mouth like a sailor. Some might describe this particular sense as "twisted." Best case scenario - not easily offended, can keep up with the speed of wit in the room, and never misses an opportunity to laugh... but NEVER meanly; at anyone else's expense.

3) Smart: The right mix of "book" and "street." Provoking thought and inspiration are big pluses. Not intimidated easily, and doesn't need to feel like - or display that he is, even if he is - the smartest person in the room. See #1, comment on ego.

4) Playful: Can switch easily between "serious" and "not-so-serious." See #2.

5) Trusting: Doesn't worry about where the girlfriend is and what she's doing when not in sight. Confident in the girlfriend's expressed level of love and commitment. Understands that there are many different types of people - male and female - and many different levels of interaction involved, and a well-balanced female in touch with who she is understands the value of a multitude of interpersonal relationships.

6) Independent: Having mutual interests is a given; must also have outside interests. Too much togetherness - unless mutually desired - is too stifling. Girlfriend - who is also very independent - has no wish to be smothered.

7) Expression of Emotion: Whatever strategy is employed in the "woo-ing" phase, continue this strategy through the actual "dating" phase. Don't be cool, then all of a sudden start spouting sonnets of undying love. See #6, comment on smothering.

8) Authenticity: Be real. Be yourself. Don't be distracted by any physical/outward attributes, natural or superficial. This one is subject to the "gut" test... and the gut is always right.


Final Notes: There is no "type." There is no "empty slot" to be filled. The point is to create YOUR own space. The girl is not "looking" for a mate; but she will make room for you in her life if you inspire her to do so.

She isn't like the others, know that going in. Are you ready?

More Or Less

At a recent social function, I struck up a conversation with this elderly gentleman... we had something in common: he lost his beloved wife to cancer approximately a two years ago.

It was great to listen to the man's stories of his family, his life - he has four grown children (three daughters and one son), nine grandchildren, and a wide spectrum of friends and other relationships he had accumulated over his sixty-four years. He and his wife met when they were both teenagers, and because it was pretty much "love at first sight" they ended up getting married right away - and the rest is history, as they say.

He confided in me how his life had completely turned on its ear at the death of his wife. It was a fairly quick illness - I gathered that she had not been feeling well, but being a typical woman and mother, hid her pain from her family most of the time - so when the cancer was diagnosed, it was pretty much a done deal. I could hear the anguish and loss in his voice as he spoke of it, and it resonated in my own battered soul. I listened, and then I told the gentleman that I knew exactly how he felt.

This comment of mine stopped the man short. His reaction to me was that "I couldn't possibly know how he felt" because I was only married to my husband for five years whereas he and his wife were together over fifty... He wasn't attacking me; merely sympathetic - I felt like a snot-nosed kid being patted on the head, given a cookie and sent on her way. Our situations were COMPLETELY different, from his perspective.

Later on, I reflected on what the gentleman had told me. How is it that the number of years has any relevence to the depth of one's loss of love? Does that mean that people who are maybe engaged and never actually are able to get married (and somebody dies) don't really feel the same things I feel? That this man clearly feels?

Those are just circumstances... each person's circumstances are different, of course, but I don't think I could have felt any more devastated if the Bunny and I were together fifty years instead of just five. If anything, I feel cheated because I don't have a lifetime of memories. I don't have my husband's children and grandchildren for me to look at and interact with every day. I don't see anything in our life together that - given enough time - isn't going to disappear completely from MY life. One day I will wake up, and all outward traces of the Bunny will be eliminated - except for my feelings. Except for my love... and my sadness. And every so often I will relive a memory or hear a song on the radio or hear the Bunny's voice in my head and it will put me back in touch with that love and sadness. And maybe I'll shed a few tears, and the next day I will feel better.

Those are MY circumstances. But the love in question - regardless of the shelf life - is universally the same.