Giving Thanks

It's been a little while since I've been on here.  Please forgive me; and speaking of forgiving, it is the day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday they call it.  I'm not shopping.  I'm sitting and writing this instead.
My dogs are at my feet.  The door is open so we have a breeze coming through in this Tampa tropic.
We will go for a walk in a little while, the little dog and me.  We have some magazines to take to the little library box around the corner.  It's really cool.  The books are free; there's no checkout system.  You just get one if you want one and put one in if you don't need it anymore.  So that's what we're going to do.
This is my second Thanksgiving without my husband, David, and it sucks!  Big time.
We used to spend Thanksgiving Day going from my Mom's to David's Mom's and home again.
Wearing ourselves out but enjoying the visit and the food and the pictures.
Yesterday was not like that at all. My son is working and my grandchildren are busy elsewhere.  I spent the day reading and playing games - the same as most days.  I DID eat some bean pie.  It wasn't what i craved.
And i grieved.
I grieved for what WAS.  I grieved for the life i used to enjoy.  I grieved for that which will never - NEVER - be the same.
My friends are mostly back in Texas, some are in NY and Cali and points in between.  They send me love across the net.  I'm grateful for them and their thoughts.
AND i grieve that i can not reach out and physically touch them.
Maybe next year will be better; though i don't depend on it. Maybe I'll be less depressed and have friends here who will include me in their celebrations.
Maybe.
Until then, i grieve.

The First Year: don't expect much from me

Sometimes we let expectations get in the way of seeing what's real. I know that for the year following my husband's death (and beyond, truth be told) I missed a lot and i really don't know whether I contributed much to society, to the world.

So try not to feel disheartened by my lack of knowing things that you take for granted. I wasn't a real news watcher to begin with and when something as major as losing my husband occurred, everything else just sort of fell away and lost any import.

I had no idea that there was a hurricane about these parts until a tree literally fell on our house.
The deaths of several celebrities and world figures were news to me just the other day - these passings of a year or so ago.  I was unaware that the Samsung phones were exploding or that the Dixie Chicks had made a comeback!

I am saying i missed a lot.  A lot of stuff that becomes trivial when my world has, once again, been turned inside out.

I am seeing a therapist (i highly recommend someone you can vent to who does not judge).
i am tending to my physical needs as well; seeing doctors and getting things repaired.  I am even getting back into volunteering with at risk kids.  My painting is therapeutic as well as beginning to provide extra money.  All these things i am doing without the love of my life.

And it is phenomenally hard.

The goings on of the outer world are starting to interest me somewhat...with a presidential race so vile, who could miss it?
Maybe I'll catch up.  Maybe not.

Either way, i ask that you have mercy on me.  Don't expect more than i can give right now.
You can fill me in on what I've missed when the time feels right.

It's been a while...

"It's been a while now since..."
And don't think i don't know that you expect me to be DONE.
No, not all of you.
Some very close to me, however, seem to think enough time has passed since my latest loss that i ought to be WELL; that my tears ought to be dried; that my heart should be DONE with grieving.
They want me to get back to NORMAL!
As i have said before: THIS is the new normal.  This is me.  Me, with a heart broken open.  Me, with eyes at the ready to shed whatever tears may come.  Me, flawed and a little scared; a little tentative to get back into the world with its demands to be over it.
Yeah.  I'll never be over it.  You cannot love deeply and remain the same after losing your partner, friend, spouse, child, dear one.
So, instead of having expectations that fit what you need to see, why not ask what is next for me? Come to me with a willingness to be uncomfortable, to be challenged.  I will let you know when i am ready to start anew.
You say you love me.  Will you help me cross a threshold that is foreign to me?  Will you hold my hand?

Suicide's Aftermath

Words from my grandson, Tyehimba Crear,
Soundcloud.com https://soundcloud.com/tyehimba-crear/horizon.

He wrote this about 1.5 years before his death...

             HORIZON
"Every single person is a different type of love. It's not about being in love.
The only way to NOT be in love is to be in hate.
.....Can't be unhappy, I can feel your happiness from miles away.
....Knowing people is loving people.
....My mission. To personally get to know every single one of my Facebook friends.
Because I want to. Cuz that's love. Love Power Slay the hate.
...In my world, no one gets played, no one gets hurt, and its all good."

I have heard so much about the selfishness of the person who suicides.  The anger and disappointment of those 'left behind' gives rise to the blame the victim game.
In the aftermath, survivors try to find relief.  That sometimes comes at the expense of the truth.  There is no cure for the pain so we look for the reasons behind it.
Unfortunately they are not often clear and it becomes easier to fall into that rhythmic thinking of "i hurt and someone has to be held accountable".
The reality is that the person who died most probably thought they were saving us from pain by leaving.
The reality of mental illness, generally depression, is that the only way out oft times looks like death.
The reality is that, especially when 'voices' are added to the mix, the decision to die almost takes on a light at the end of the tunnel significance.
No, i will not stand by and allow anyone to blame my child for what he must have seen as his only salvation.
The pain of the illness is heavy enough; please refrain from laying responsibility for our own reactions on the victim.

Poem for David

Without You

I move into the tiny room.
Has it been a year?
Or just a lifetime?
Each step is further into the abyss.
Can i still see your peaceful face?
I sit upon the waiting chair and reach out for your hand.
Can i be alone now, so long without my best friend?
The chaos in my head does not disrupt my movement - i am not really here!
I simply make the expected gestures and pretend.
How long has it actually been since that day?
You are not cold, like my frightened heart.
You lie quietly on the narrow bed.
Even now - these many days passed- i try to understand the why's and what if's.  I don't.
The others stand around us and all i hear is silence...i can not move from your side.
Today i watch as the scene plays out so often in my mind.
Like a sad, sad song or a poorly written script, it drags on.
I ask the nurse if you can stay in that tiny room instead of going down with all the dead..."he does not know them" i explain.
And she agrees.  Says you can wait right here in the little room.
So many lifetimes later i try to bargain ...maybe i could go in place of you.
The answer is always the same and i have to reinvent my life again.
Without you.

It's NOT okay

Pleeeease refrain from the repetition of that worn out word.
It is not okay that my grandson, who had such gifts and wisdom and so many worlds to conquer, because the anguish was too great, took himself off this plane; took his own life rather than sit one more day with the voices and the pain.
It will also never ever be okay that my rock, my heart- mate, my companion of more than 46 years is nowhere on this earth to be found; that his human self is no more.
I realize i say it's ok at times when someone is struggling.  We say it because we don't know what else to do.
You really don't have to say anything at all.  Just be here with me.  Be available.  Be ready to listen.  Be.
Someday i will reach a point where i no longer feel the bitterness of life jerked away from me.  The pain will surely lessen and my eyes will dry a bit.
Maybe i will accept that life, living is not fair...
The nature of the beast is such that we begin our habitation of these feeble, fleshy bodies with the end-game being death.  The cessation of existence in this current form.  Most days that is not as heavy as it is today.  Most days.
You can help by understanding that i will never be simply "okay" again.  The hurt will never be absent.  I am irrevocably changed both by the crossing of my dear ones and by having loved them so completely.

Particulars: about suicide

The loss of a loved one to suicide is so very different from most other losses. It brings with it so  many layers of pain and confusion, so many questions that will always be unanswered, at least in this lifetime.
It has been much harder for me to accept my grandson's death than any other that I have experienced in my entire life. It's hard to even know how to ask for what I need. Those questions about why what if how...they remain unanswered and, indeed, none would satisfy me i suspect.
The one BIG thing i ask is that you ask...how i am, if i need to talk.  And that you acknowledge my pain.
Please do not let that perceived stigma of societal fear of all things to do with mental health stand in your way.  Be brave...i am trying to be.
Mental illness is NOT a dirty secret to be locked away and left unspoken.  It is real.  It is debilitating - both for those suffering with it and those who care about someone who does.  It does not help ANYONE to ignore it.  It certainly does not bring solutions.
I need you to honor that my child lived, that he meant the world to me and that i shall always have a hole in my heart.  I need you to speak about him with respect.
If you know someone who has lost a person to suicide or who has attempted it themselves please allow them a safe space to express the hurt, anger, fear and all the other emotions that they most probably suppress in daily life.
Offer your strength when i feel weak, your understanding when i am confused and your heart when i feel hopeless.
Namaste'.