by the bay, on the bay

Sam, Olga, Eddie and I met up at 11am at the new Transbay Transit Center
which is indeed spectacular. Lots of room to walk, enjoy the gardens and
the city views are outstanding. Husbando would have loved it so some of
his ashes are there now. Also Delancey Street patio where we had lunch ~
some of my Bill in the planter box in the patio. Ditto Pier 29 ~ how he
loved the photography exhibits there, so into the bay. But the best and
most unexpected happening was the water taxi on the bay. Only $10
each and the captain took us to a secluded spot with an amazing view
of the city we both loved so much. My friends were shocked when I first
started this ash sprinkling, but quickly got into this necessary (to me) ritual.
Dinner last night at the Mission Rock Resort and some sprinkles at
the picnic area there where the Steins would go to look out on the bay
and listen to the ballgame. A very good day, if somewhat emotional at times.

Sunday morning

I never did this when I was Sadie-Sadie-Married-Lady. Going back to
bed with cat, computer, newspaper and coffee on a Sunday morning
makes a lot of sense these days.

we need some cuteness

The Blogmaid Family adopted Eleven and Hopper and life is very merry
indeed down in Pumpkinville.  Eleven has more orange than her brother,
in case you want to know which is which. And of course you do.

On a personal note I am branching out ~ went to TJ's and Costco and did
not need my ever present Kleenex® in either store. Of course I avoided
certain sections where Husbando-memories would overwhelm me. But
still and all ~ progress.

my current project

Forty plus years of photos. I dreaded this project of making montages for
the memorial celebration, but once I got started I found that it was a good
thing for me because I could see how happy we both were. The first week
after Husbando died I was filled with so much sorrow and so many regrets
and now I can see that except for a few human glitches, it was a good
partnership and we loved and were loved.

mornings and mourning

I wake up at 5 or 6am and say "good morning, Sweetheart," and then I
talk to myself silently to appreciate my home, my kitten, my dear
friends and family. When I see the fog I am delighted because Husbando
would bitch about the fog and for awhile there I thought this would be
the sunniest summer here EVER and how unfair would that be? I sit
here in the back room and read/write emails and drink strong coffee.
I am content. This week I started my daily writing habit and my partner
Karen lost her boyfriend to Mr. Death and doesn't mind my sorrow.
Yesterday it was difficult and I put off writing until late in the day, this
morning it was a breeze. Bill would always put down his Chronicle to
read my daily writing and comment on my work and god, I miss that.
Just in case you wonder, my morning contentment does not last much
after I eat my fruit breakfast, but I keep busy and carry Kleenex®.
I am okay. I am.

talking, crying, walking, cleaning

Friends are so loving and generous. Thanks to Terri for letting me cry once
again in public over coffee yesterday morning. And for her good advice ~
keep up with the cleaning and tossing. I get annoyed at Husbando for leaving
all this for me to handle ~ must we keep his x-rays from every knee re-
placement? But I am making progress. Then I enjoyed all the people and
colorful artwork at the Graffiti event down in our little park.

a little therapy, please

SF backyards

It has been years since I visited my therapist, but Husbando's death just
hurts so much. Above is a view from right before I entered Susan's office
and already I felt calmer.  We talked of many, many things ~ no awkward
silences as in days gone by. Nothing shocks a therapist and no tears are
too loud or ugly. I will return next week and am already looking forward
to seeing her again. (The last time I saw Susan neither of us had cell
phones ~ how about that?)

so many firsts

Yesterday I spent $8 (!) on a Peet's latte to sit and appreciate our baseball history
because Husbando and I started out at Candlestick at a very bleak time in
our lives and the Giants saved us. We loved the World Series, Dusty Baker,
caps, tee shirts and jackets and all the hot dogs and garlic fries. So it was the
first time I didn't go home to tell Bill about the game and my time with Ginger.
I miss that, the chit chat. We didn't stay for the entire game because I had
Tiapos over at Suzy's last night ~ another first because I would bring work
home for Bill to read. But I got lots of warm hugs and it was wonderful being
with my writing friends again, even though I'm not up to writing yet.

the red beret

Husbando wore the red beret often. It is Thanksgiving in the top photo
and he liked to keep his head warm. Nurse/reverend Carlini asked for
the beret after Husbando died and he wears it well. Puma likes to sit
on it which probably would irritate the original owner. Think?

pianos in the park

It could not have been a more perfect morning yesterday at the Botanical
Gardens. Doug and Barb were good enough to take me as I wanted to feel
Husbando's presence because we had a lovely time last year. Doug (middle
photo) played "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" to lots of applause and
some tears (me) and then lunch at a Korean restaurant on 9th Avenue. Such
a delightful morning and I am grateful to them both as was Husbando. Neti
recently mentioned that Sundays are difficult and they are, but I'm OK.

Heather Farm Park

I climbed on BART and spent the day with Nurse/Reverend Carlini yesterday
out in Walnut Creek. We walked two miles in the HEAT to Heather Farm
and that was great. Talked about Husbando and cats and life/death. A late
lunch at a Japanese restaurant and then some reading time with Puma on
the balcony. Lots of coffee, of course. Not home until 6pm or so and then
I watched "The Post" on Netflix. I feel some healing here. Two weeks tonight.

prep work

Husbando did not care for cats even though we had five of them while
living together. (Not all at once.) Before he died he told me to go get
a cat so I would not come home to an empty house. I am already enjoying
my trips to PetCo to buy supplies for the little fur ball. Soon when I
come home and sing out, "I'm home, Sweetheart," it will be into the ears
of a kitty. We shop next Saturday at (of all places) the SPCA. Purrrrrr.

a caring community

Nancy and Bill Junior had stuffed Ken the Toyota full of walkers, the
wheelchair, commode, shower bench, etc. and yesterday I drove to
the ReCares Network on Dorland Street here in the Mission. In a tiny
backyard I found a labor of love as people brought in used medical
stuff. Some like me had frog eyes and some were delighted to find
just what they needed for free. Gentle smiles and thanks. They are only
open 10 to 3 on Thursday, but what a lot of good feelings all around.

the purple gorilla diet

My usually reliable appetite has gone south. I did eat more when Nancy and
Junior were here, but not yesterday. Husbando is barking at me from afar
telling me to EAT, especially greens and vegetables and I will. Promise.

get thee to the Ramp

Nancy, Bill Junior and I had lunch at the Ramp and planned Husbando's
memorable memorial for Wednesday, September 5th, from 4 to 7pm.
How he loved that spot and it's still gritty and not too chi chi, thank goodness.
Now at some point I must face hundreds of photos of my main man.
The month of August will be good for that, don't you agree?

get used to it

The first of many grief poems...

POEMS MAY 5, 2008 ISSUE

GRIEF

By Matthew Dickman

When grief comes to you as a purple gorilla

you must count yourself lucky.

You must offer her what’s left

of your dinner, the book you were trying to finish

you must put aside,

and make her a place to sit at the foot of your bed,

her eyes moving from the clock

to the television and back again.

I am not afraid. She has been here before

and now I can recognize her gait

as she approaches the house.

Some nights, when I know she’s coming,

I unlock the door, lie down on my back,

and count her steps

from the street to the porch.

Tonight she brings a pencil and a ream of paper,

tells me to write down

everyone I have ever known,

and we separate them between the living and the dead

so she can pick each name at random.

I play her favorite Willie Nelson album

because she misses Texas

but I don’t ask why.

She hums a little,

the way my brother does when he gardens.

We sit for an hour

while she tells me how unreasonable I’ve been,

crying in the checkout line,

refusing to eat, refusing to shower,

all the smoking and all the drinking.

Eventually she puts one of her heavy

purple arms around me, leans

her head against mine,

and all of a sudden things are feeling romantic.

So I tell her,

things are feeling romantic.

She pulls another name, this time

from the dead,

and turns to me in that way that parents do

so you feel embarrassed or ashamed of something.

Romantic? she says,

reading the name out loud, slowly,

so I am aware of each syllable, each vowel

wrapping around the bones like new muscle,

the sound of that person’s body

and how reckless it is,

how careless that his name is in one pile and not the other.

the family gathers

The hospital bed was in our dining room. Yesterday Nancy and Ceci moved
the table back upstairs and oh man, that felt so good. Ceci made a huge salad
and pasta dinner and I sat in Husbando's place and I knew that he was so
very proud of all of us. It was the most pleasant time, just gentle humor
and stories. Bill Junior hung a picture for me and today they are hitting
the Salvation Army, drug disposal place, eyeglass donation spot and
more. My appetite returns. Bill always washed and I dried after the guests
left ~ last night I did both as we discussed his children and g.child and
he was feeling proud and at peace. And I slept.

a different relationship

   Death ends a life, not a relationship. One of the real challenges at 

this time of bereavement is to create a new relationship with your 

loved one without a physical presence. 

     You face the task of creating that new relationship, one of heart, 

mind and spirit. Incorporating your loved one’s values and passions 

into your own life and passing them on to others will create a living 

memorial that will keep alive the essence of your loved one and bring 

you comfort. 

~Playwright Robert Anderson 

using the Widow Card

The widow grapevine told me that turning in Husbando's phone would not
be easy. I have been a Verizon customer for almost 22 years. When Dancing
Jen and I were in Paris, Bill would visit Verizon almost every other day
for phone help. They were always very nice. Yesterday the sales associate
told me I had to do this online so I used the tears and played the Widow Card.
Two lovely young people helped me and it was not easy for them what with
the holds, the need for passwords, the "turn in the phone at another Verizon
store" (!) and then trying to charge me. One brought me a cup of cold
water as they performed their magic with corporate. My gratitude for
Friday goes to them and to Husbando who was beside me throughout.

memories

Our friend Linda D. introduced us to the whole world of sea glass and the
many collectors and displays. My mind these grief-filled days and nights
is not so different ~ colors, sharp edges, many different pieces and none
making much sense right now. A few "don't go there!" and some just too
beautiful to touch. The Blogmaid is in Barcelona and I have a diary of
our trip there but I know it would burn my fingers if I even found the
damn thing.  Wide streets, glorious trees, tapas, sunshine and that nut
case Gaudi who probably loved sea glass. Know that I am okay.