Expiry fast approaching

Whenever I pause to think on my demise, images of my Father come to the fore. He told me he’d “never leave” by which he meant, “never die”. He left in 1988 and now it’s 2021. I’m 71 and fast approaching my own expiration date, but dearest Dad never got out of his 60s. Not fair, God.

What helpful memories these are, of our time on the piano and organ, playing duets and laughing at our mistakes! With Mom occasionally singing, it was heaven for me. The only time I really understood my Mother was with music, and she depended on me to help her learn the opera choruses she had to sing each 3rd month of the year. I loved it all, especially sitting in Symphony Hall with brother Chris and searching for Mom on the stage. She was easy to spot!

You were Me, I was You

It was raining when they told me you were gone, and in thinking back I have to admit I was too shocked in my realization of what happened to really understand anything they said. Nothing was fair that day, and nothing has been half as good since then, not by a fraction of what we had, you and I, in the best and worst of our days.

#suddendeath #grief

A Sad Bundle of Human

 When the impulse to shut down hits, we respond with closed, locked doors and hiding under the covers of our loyal beds.  We accept our defeat – we retreat.

To be wrapped up in ourselves comes easy when sorrow overtakes us, or if we’re too sharply emotional that it makes communicating painful.  The only avenue to peace seems to be, to shut down.

How did the species human evolve this ability, this turning away from the world and its delights, its sorrows?  What happened in our early rising as homo sapiens to create the state of detachment?  Back then, our basic need was to eat.  Then to get warm.  Then to procreate.  So when did we decide we needed to isolate ourselves?  We are by nature extremely social creatures.

I have no answer.  I can only deduce that when we are all tied up in ourselves, it’s a small bundle, indeed.

#isolation #detachment

Sample of my attempt to set the world to rights – again

                                        

Here we are once more, trying to get WordPress to obey my commands.  However, when no such commands exist, one must improvise and hope, yes improvise and HOPE that what you’re doing is what you expect will fix the problem you created yourself when you were pursuing all the ways you could change the look of things.  Okay here we go…let’s see what this looks like.

HOW DO I CHANGE THIS STUPID FONT I MADE IN A MOMENT OF ODDITY?

Correct.  I am under  the veil.  Can’t do anything.  I am too lazy to find the right setting to get my original READABLE font back.  I’m also getting spam that’s drowning me.  It’s raining.  Someone outside my window is scraping a shovel on the tarmac and it’s making my teeth itch – and I wear dentures.  The day has barely started and I want to go back to sleep.  I’m already in bed anyway.  Love these laptops – they really do sit on your lap.  THIS TYPE IS TOO SMALL!

Gawsh I have tons of stories since I’ve last pounded the keys here.  Too bad I’m in a sucky mood and can’t talk to you properly.  No one’s fault really, it’s just…..I HATE THIS FONT!!

Where I’d Go?

          Such a sweet expression for an old broad.  So where’s my profile pic?  I want  it back, this annoys me.  Don’t ever annoy me, Mr. e-Age.  It’s hard enough trying to find myself.

Wha…? I’m confused – again.

Okay so I have 2WordPress sites, that’s weird.  I don’t have the patience to work this out,  you can see it in my picture.  I’ll stay here.

Remember when we talked about 2016 like we’re talking now about 2017?  Think it’ll be a shitty year too?  So many died.  Dead.  Why do I have 2 WordPresses.

Some of you will know right away that this is a crap post, I have nada to say and now that my lover is DEAD, no one to really want to say it to.  Now don’t be mistaken, I like you always have, but this sucks, this new year as if counting up time will make a difference.  The Mayans counted down time, they saw things differently.

Watch – in 2018 I’ll be celebrating the end of a year with champagne and celebration, friends maybe, and hope…..again.

Shit.

No Joy Without You

This is not Xmas it’s hell.  Everyday is the same sad place without you.  Hollow, empty, blurred by constant tears.  Now John has died, too.  There’s a hurricane in my heart and I pray for this all to end. 

WHERE ARE YOU?

The Cold Cruel World

Sometimes I feel like I’m under all that ice.  Isn’t it spectacular how wind, rain and freezing cold all conspired to create this strange sculpture?  It looks alien.  So much like the way I feel …. sometimes.

You should know right off that this post is about me, and what I’ve been dealing with.  I’ve recently lost a brother, two weeks later a sister, a few months after that, my only true, most beloved friend and love, and I’ve been distracted.  I wrote about them here, I described what it was like just to lift my dying sister who had turned into a skeletal stranger I resented for being someone I didn’t recognize.  I described loving my Matthew, the man I centered my life on, the man I invested a future in, the man who connected me to the world I wanted.  They’re all gone.  Gone.  But life wasn’t done with me…..

Depression.  Deep and dark.  I am disabled in my legs and cannot work, I have to collect disability and live in subsidized housing.  That’s as far as I’ll go in the boring tale of my physical woes.   So I don’t even have the distraction of working.  I don’t like this life, I don’t smile at people anymore, I don’t care for my little few possessions and I talk to nothing but empty air.

So I just felt like venting and I came here.  Talking to something that isn’t alive.  Almost like me.  It seems there’s a shortage of people with compassion out there so I don’t trust confiding too much.  I’ll say only that without those I love, I have to wonder if I can find a reason to stay here.

I have to wonder…..

 

 

 

 

TEARS LIKE HEAVY STONES

They bring no relief.  They hurt, ripping themselves from my blurry eyes like barbed wire, falling down my burning face like rivers of hopelessness and the state of being alone.  I am alone now.  Matthew was my life, and he is dead and I am alone.  I don’t want to share myself with anyone else – unless it’s him.

God, I tried to make deals with You, they’ve gone unanswered.  Didn’t you let your own Son defeat death?  Why can’t you do it for my love?  My love for him is as true as yours for your Son, why can’t you bring Matthew back???

Now I know I’m slipping into that insane place where you think the dead will live again.