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.)
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, June 4, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
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.
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.
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