These days

I am okay. Still here and doing relatively well. Between gardening, riding, sailing and going to meetings, I stay busy.  Life has a familiar groove to it.

Getting through the worst heat of the summer has been difficult. The humidity is stifling.  I have been going to the barn to ride in the evening when the sea breeze comes up and no one else is around.  I prefer the quiet times there and going to the ring or to the fields when the sun is setting.

The garden is in the waning phase so I'm getting ready to plant some fall crops. It produced well, but the heat eventually beats down everything, except for egg plant and okra.  We put up over 75 quarts of tomato sauce for winter.  It was a two day long ordeal but we managed to get through it, although both of us did not want to see another tomato.

Sailing is still the most fantastic getaway for me.  I go out for several days a month, dropping the anchor and staying overnight.  It is relaxing in a way that's hard to describe. I sleep better on the boat with the gentle rocking.  Even though it's hot on land, the island near the ocean where I anchor has a great breeze. I sleep comfortably with the ports and hatches open.

I celebrated ten years in Al-Anon on August 13.  It is hard for me to remember all the turmoil of the years before I went and the moments that propelled me to attend my first meeting. I don't dwell on that time much.  I have a core group of two meetings I attend each week and have been adding a third on as often as I can.  We all remain imperfect, struggling to get along with others and especially with the alcoholic.

One of the greatest things that I have learned is to have compassion and empathy for all who are struggling with the disease of alcoholism, whether it is the alcoholic or the person affected by someone else's drinking. And the same for those who are struggling with life and the circumstances of it.  I don't judge others for their choices or struggles. And I have learned to not take what others do or say personally.  My hurt feelings about something unkind said to me have diminished from days to an hour.  I hope to get that to a millisecond, as the feeling flows through me.  Resentments are killers of happiness. No need to hold onto someone else's bad feelings.

I don't feel much of an urge to write anymore.  But I am going to keep the blog going, perhaps only visiting once in a while.  All that I have written about here with such urgency in the past seems much less so now.

C. and I have a remarkable love for each other.  She picked up her ten year chip a week before I did.  We have grown in peace of mind, love, respect and compassion for each other.  And we are growing old together.  Every day is one to hold onto.

Getting By

The events of the past month have been unsettling. So much tragedy that I can't wrap my head around it.  So I do what I can to stay insulated by not watching the news, reading the paper, or doing outreach in the community.

I know this isn't good, but the feeling of being overwhelmed is real. Somehow, if I stay in my world, it feels better than constantly rehashing mass murders and the lack of our elected officials to do anything about it.

That the Orlando massacre nearly coincided with the anniversary of the Emanuel church murders in this city was difficult.  And I ask myself, "How many more?". I did not participate in activities planned to honor the dead. I worked on my boat, went to meetings, met with my sponsor, rode the horse and gardened. I feel jaded and tired of the arguing about guns, politics, religion and racial injustice.  Maybe we are moving forward in inches.  I can't see that, and it certainly feels as if we are moving backwards when it comes to giving up hate and divisiveness.

The summer heat has moved in and feels unrelenting.  I do most of my work in the mornings and evenings, otherwise it is unbearable.  Last night, I had terrible leg cramps which I tend to get when I have sweated to the point of dehydration. Irrigation is saving the garden which is producing well.  We are picking blackberries, tomatoes, cucumbers and green beans.

I have learned in recovery to not take things personally, yet I still do that on occasion.  I fight with the notions of rejection and abandonment.  Probably this will be a life long struggle for me.  My father comes to me in dreams. I wait for him and he does not show up. Instead, I find him drinking in a bar, or I walk home and find him drunk at the kitchen table.

In my last dream, I was pouring out bottles of booze while saying the Serenity Prayer.  I awake from these nightmares, shaking and disoriented.  It is PTSD, and I know that the best thing for me to do is to get busy and remember that the dreams are feelings that are coming up, flashbacks to pieces of events from long ago.

Am I happy?  I believe that I am optimistic and reasonably happy.  Some moments are filled with such joy that I feel incredible gratitude.  Other days, I am getting by.  Today is one in which I am getting by.  But that can change if I take some action to make the day better.  I plan on having a good dinner with C. after riding this evening.  Then we will pick blackberries and maybe watch a movie.  I have the ability to make the changes needed to have happiness.

 

A small vacation

I am writing this while eating freshly picked blackberries from the garden.  The fruit is large, and the bushes are heavy with ripening berries. It's a cool spring day, good for being outside.  As usual, I have been keeping busy the garden, the animals and exercising.

Sadly, we lost another dog this week.  It was unexpected and quick: osteosarcoma of the spine. Two vertebrae were engulfed by the tumor.  So we made the decision to euthanize. I sat on the floor cradling him for about an hour and telling him what a good boy he was.

Today, I removed his dog bed from the bedroom. I put his toys away, holding them to my nose to inhale the scent of this much loved boy.  No matter what I am not prepared for them to go.  So we are down to two dogs now, and both of those are seniors.

C. has been away for a small vacation.  I missed her with an ache of loneliness.   Things seemed so empty without her being here.  Yesterday, when I picked her up from the airport, I felt as if I was emerging from a fog created by my being alone and mourning the loss of our dog.

We went by the seafood market to get some soft shell crab for dinner. Tossed them in coconut flour and fried in olive oil, they were delicious.  Soft shells are a delicacy that many people don't appreciate, but growing up on Chesapeake Bay, I was exposed to them and other regional culinary delights when I was a child.  Shad roe fried with scrambled eggs, she crab soup, brined mackerel--all good memories.

I took the senior dogs for a walk on Friday evening and captured some of the beauty of the place where we live.  I hope that you enjoy these.

Wedding anniversary and giving thanks

Tomorrow is a celebration for us--our wedding anniversary.  I won't tell you how many years,  but suffice to say that most people did not give us great odds in lasting as long as we have. I know that most of our friends in graduate school have been divorced at least once and yet, here we are together.

I'm not being smug because it has not been a smooth journey.  And I thought about divorce many times over the years. In fact, after every drunk episode, I wanted out.  I did what most people do who live with alcoholism, I keep hoping that things would change--that she would change.  And in the morning after a drunken night, I would believe the promises that she would be different and meant to quit drinking this time. And the years went by.

Even for a while after my wife joined AA, I did not give us much of a chance. But through patience, respect and growing love for each other, we are still together.  I am at the point in my life where I cherish every day with her.

A lady at my meeting last night has been living with a dry drunk for many years. They basically have little communication.  And she had been in tears at last week's meeting because she did not have the kind of relationship that she wanted. So I shared then that what I began doing that first year in recovery was hugging my wife and telling her more and more that I loved her.  And from there, we began to heal. That is how we interact now--lots of hugs and kisses and "I love you"'s.  It made a huge difference in our attitudes.

Last night the lady shared that she went home and hugged her husband after the meeting and gave him a kiss on his head.  She said that it made her feel good. She was learning that her pride kept her apart from her husband.  I suppose for me it was lack of trust that kept me from sharing my feelings. Sometimes it is okay to "fake it until I make it" to get those feelings back that have been so eroded by alcoholism.

So I have much to be grateful for as we celebrate our anniversary. It is Thanksgiving day too.  I hope that the day will be a good one for you no matter where you are or who you are with.

Life changes in the instant

It has been a week of contrasts. Going on the boat for a few days did as it was intended, putting my mind at ease and getting me into a relaxed groove that has lasted for several days.

And then last night, I happened to read on line more hatred spewed about the refugees fleeing from Syria and ISIS.  The amazing number of fearful people here in the U.S. who worry that they will be targeted makes me wonder how any of them get out of bed, get on the highway and drive to a job.  There are so many things that can take our life at any moment.  And yet we seem to be utterly terrified at the prospect of people from another country taking asylum in this country. It is baffling to me.

I heard last night that a friend just found out that he has kidney cancer and will undergo surgery in three days to remove one of his kidneys.  His wife was in Africa and flew home to be with him. And so as Joan Didion wrote: "Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant." This week has been one of lives being changed in an ordinary instant. And all that I can do is go about my life, keeping my days as usual as possible, reaching out to those who are having problems.  And loving as best I know how.

I'm not telling you to make the world better, because I don't think that progress is necessarily part of the package. I'm just telling you to live in it. Not just to endure it, not just to suffer it, not just to pass through it, but to live in it. To look at it. To try to get the picture. To live recklessly. To take chances. To make your own work and take pride in it. To seize the moment. And if you ask me why you should bother to do that, I could tell you that the grave's a fine and private place, but none I think do there embrace. Nor do they sing there, or write, or argue, or see the tidal bore on the Amazon, or touch their children. And that's what there is to do and get it while you can and good luck at it. — Joan Didion

Every day matters

Thank you for all the thoughts and comments as both C. and I had our ninth year in recovery.  I told my story at two meetings, and each time I have a different slant. In one I start from the beginning and in the next, I am starting at where I am now.

I remember the first time that I shared my story at a meeting. I had written down a few things I wanted to share. I didn't know how to speak from the heart then.  I thought that I needed notes to help me organize my thoughts. I don't do that anymore and haven't for several years.  I simply share from the heart, not feeling anything but gratitude for the progress that I have made in coming to terms with who I am and how I was affected by alcoholism.

The main message that I have is that it is so good to be living life without a huge amount of fear and anxiety.  I don't have active alcoholism in my life. It is a blessing.  And I don't focus much on the past anymore, not the bad parts of it anyway.  There is too much to do in the present right now.  I want to hold onto that as much as I can.

Today, I rode for several miles around the farm and properties near by.  It was a good morning, with a hint of fall in the air.  I see the cloudless sulfur butterflies as they move through on their migration.  Some of the trees are starting to change color as the days get shorter. The garden is still producing, but already we are putting in our fall and winter vegetables.  My favorite time of year is coming.

It seems that every day is one to cherish.  And as a blogger friend used to write, "Every day matters."

 

Nine years today

Today is my 9th anniversary in Al-Anon.  I have told you about all of these years right here. You probably know more about my life than anyone, except for my first sponsor and my wife.  I'm grateful that you have been with me on the journey thus far.

And it has been a good journey in recovery.  I can remember how it started out. That first year was confusing.  My wife was new to AA, and I wasn't sure whether our marriage could be healed.  We didn't trust each other.  It was a rough time.

Gradually, as each year passed, we came to realize that if we applied the principles of recovery to our lives, we could prevail.  I learned about compassion and just how much I loved her.  I realized that we were both damaged when we met.  And as I thought of her as a child, fearful of the emotional abuse from an alcoholic father and a mother who was affected by her husband's alcoholism, I came to feel so much love for her.  I realized that I was wounded too by my father's drinking.  And I came to love him more than ever, along with my in-laws, because they did the best they knew how to do.

So C. and I shared a common bond of children affected by alcoholism.  I knew her pain, and she knew mine.  We grew to be respectful and kind to each other, rather than having the old judgmental and contemptuous feelings.  And over these years our love has grown to where we are today.  Neither of us can imagine life without the other.

I am so fortunate to have found out who I am and that I have a lot of good qualities.  I am grateful for having met so many people whose paths I would not have crossed if not for Al-Anon.  I am glad that you have been along for the journey too.  We have written, learned, cried, laughed, and comforted each other in more ways than I thought possible. Thank you all.

Nine years for C.

We are celebrating 9 years of sobriety for C. this week. It's hard to believe time has gone so quickly. And life is better today in so many ways than it was nine years ago. 

I am not going to write much but will share the last few days in photos. We are together in this life until the end. That is love. 

Changes and hope

I am thinking about the outpouring of love that has occurred since the shooting of nine people at Emanuel AME church during their Bible study last week.  In a show of unity,  over 15,000 people joined hands to span the long bridge that reaches across the Cooper River to Charleston.  I was there, among a throng of people who came together to support each other and show that the actions of a deranged killer would not tear the community apart.

The 7 year old, who drew the picture above, depicts what I felt--light and love. Don't misunderstand though. There are difficult days ahead for this community and this state.  The Confederate flag which has been flown on the State House grounds and on the dome of the state capitol will come down, as it is coming down in the South and no longer being offered by retail giants.  It is time, past time, for the Civil War and all it stood for to be in the past.

Make no mistake that there is much resentment about this, for there are those who cling to it as a symbol of segregation and hate.  And thus, the voices and whispers of racism and bigotry will continue. I didn't grow up with those voices. In fact, I only began to hear them after we moved to South Carolina. And the voices have been prevalent in recent years, more than ever.  I remain hopeful though that other voices will drown out the ones who huddle in grand homes or walk the aisles of state government convinced of their superiority over anyone who is not white.  I harbor this hope that what we have been seeing is a sort of last gasp of the real hate - that this moment we are in represents the violent, cathartic end of the dark forces of division in the deep South. The outpouring of love needs to continue every day to keep those voices from drowning out the good.

These words resonate with me now more than ever:
Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don’t stand in the doorway
Don’t block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There’s a battle outside and it is ragin’
It’ll soon shake your windows and rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin’~Bob Dylan

The times indeed are changing.  And for me change can't come soon enough. I am clinging to a glimmer of hope that the changes happening will be without further bloodshed.

The past repeats

It's said that history repeats itself. So now Charleston has revisited its history with the killing of 9 people in one of the city's most historic churches.  The church, Emanuel AME, was burned after one of the church's founders organized a slave uprising in 1822.  Worship services continued after the church was rebuilt until 1834 when all black churches were outlawed. The congregation continued the tradition of the African church by worshipping underground until 1865 when it was formally reorganized, and the name Emanuel was adopted, meaning "God with us".

I, like so many, don't understand how a person could be among good people for an hour and then shoot them.  I don't understand what is in the mind of someone so filled with hate.  Some have said that the confessed killer should not be called "mentally disturbed".  I see anyone who hates as mentally disturbed. Not as a defense for an action but simply a statement that those who spend so much energy filled with hate are depleted in their humanness. I am tired of the hatred expressed in social media, on TV, and radio shows--the threats and ignorant jokes about the President, gays, liberals, and anyone that doesn't espouse the same ideals.

I was born in the South.  I grew up during the time of early integration.  And I was appalled at the hatred shown towards people of color.  Nothing much has changed.  Racism was still festering and for many years in this country, people were not overt about it.  There was forced politeness.  But in the last decade, especially since President Obama has been in office,  hatred and intolerance of those who believe, look, or act different from someone else has exploded.

I have read so many political comments on social media and in print over the past few years that I have been shocked and appalled at the hatred out there.  I know who they are too. They are people that I went to first grade with, people who live in my community, people who I have known for years.  And yet to them, I am a Libtard, a socialist,  a "nigger" lover.  It hurts my heart.

Very sad that such an appalling tragedy has visited our community. We cannot live in a racially divided country again. No more. Stand up and speak up when you hear or see intolerance.  I refuse to listen to slurs and hateful comments about anyone. I refuse to be passive when faced with overt bigotry and racism.  I want to make my actions clear so that there is no doubt about my boundaries.

I feel numb about what has happened here.  Yet, I am not shocked by the events in this city and state that I now call home.  It was just a matter of time that the picture perfect post card of a city would revisit its violent past.  Charleston is touted as number one in tourism.  It is a beautiful city, and there are good people who live here. But there is another side of this old city that isn't beautiful.  I sadly don't expect much from anyone anymore. All I can do is try to shed a little light and do my best on this journey to show compassion and love.  

What makes a lasting relationship

I was catching up on some magazines and ran across this article in the Atlantic Monthly. Basically, the article sums up what makes a happy lasting relationship and what causes contribute to other relationships falling apart.
"Much of it comes down to the spirit couples bring to the relationship. Do they bring kindness and generosity; or contempt, criticism, and hostility?"

A study done in the 1980's followed young couples, observing their interactions and their physiology.  The investigators did a follow up six years later to see if the couples were still together.  They found that contempt is the main factor that tears couples apart. Those who criticized or ignored their partner and injected negativity into interactions had failed or unhappy relationships.  The partner who was criticized and ignored felt worthless and invisible as if they were not present or valued at all.

Kindness, on the other hand, was what kept couples together. Kindness made each partner feel cared for, understood, and validated--and loved.

I honestly don't know how we have stayed together all these years given the conflict that I used to feel.  I know that there was kindness and love as well. But I also had a lot of distrust for the alcoholic promises where she would say "I love you" but her actions would be the opposite.  And I would do the same--keeping her at arms length because I didn't trust her promises not to drink.  The words said one thing but the actions were the opposite.  Those were confusing and hurtful times for both of us.

I have shared here and at meetings that living with an alcoholic is lonely.  It is very lonely because the other person is emotionally unavailable. And for those of us who love an alcoholic, we keep trying over and over to make the person available.  And I did that for years until I gave up and was ready to walk away.

Some kind of miraculous epiphany happened since those desperate times. I knew that I didn't want my marriage to end, but I also knew that I had to change.  I had to stop spending all my energy on wanting my wife to change.  So I focused on what I wanted with my life.  I looked beyond my work for peace of mind.  I bought a boat, did gardening, became active in Al-Anon, and gradually took care of myself emotionally.

It took a while for the contempt to go away.  I believe that when I did my fourth, fifth and sixth steps, I began to focus on what I was doing--what my part was in how the marriage was going.  I didn't like who I had become.  So as I became aware,  I was able to see that without kindness and compassion,  I was going to remain unhappy.  I would think of my wife as a little girl who had a difficult childhood being sent off to private schools because her parents were fighting and angry.  She grew up with no buffers from the turmoil, just as I did.  From visualizing her as a little sad girl, I was filled with love and compassion for her.

What we have now is respect for each other.  We appreciate each other. We can be genuine with each other.  We support each other emotionally.  We share responsibilities. We trust each other. And we want to spend time together.

We are still working on playing together, instead of being so task oriented.  Our communication is much better.  And we continue to grow in love.

What makes sense

As I have mentioned before, I live on an island that is rural. No stop lights and only a couple of juke joints/stores.  But I live close enough to the city and suburbia to feel connected to what goes on.  The recent killing of an unarmed man by a police man made national headlines and has created a lot of discussion locally.

I am glad that the actions by the mayor and police chief were swift and averted riots and other civil unrest.  But the basic fact that lethal force was used is chilling.  I am no fan of the police.  I respect that they have a job to do, but I have seen too much of their abuse of power in my life.  I have not been arrested. I have been stopped once for an expired inspection sticker, so I have nothing of a personal nature that generates the fear. But I have images in my head from TV coverage of the Vietnam war protests of the 60's and the brutality of the police during desegregation marches.  Large men with guns and clubs and an attitude don't make me feel comfortable.

I know how tense racial relations are in the deep South and in this state particularly.  The island that I live on is 80% black.  And I feel comfortable with that because I know many of the families, and they are good people.  I wonder at their fear and anxiety. Is it similar to mine? A lot of racial tension is still here. We do our best to cover it up and pretend otherwise. Politeness abounds at the surface.  But racism remains like a scab over a deep rotting wound.  The only thing that makes sense to me is the sound of the waves breaking on the beach; the sound of the frogs in the wetland near the house; the breath of my horse as he nuzzles me; the concert of birdsong that exploded as the sun rose over the ocean; and the love for others bending and drowning out everything else.

Peace and love on a dreary day

It's another rainy day--one among many this month.  The ground and fields are so saturated that large chasms have been cut on the dirt lane from sheet flow of water that gushes over the cross drains and ditches.

All of the pastures have standing water.  It's colic season for horses because the temperatures are fluctuating between the low 40's to nearly 70 F tomorrow.  My horse's hoof abscess is long healed, and he is healthy and apparently happy. Sadly, his stablemate had to be put down due to severe cellulitis.  The loss of this beautiful animal has had all of us out of sorts, sad and concerned.  His owner has taken this very hard.  I doubt if she will get over this any time soon, if ever.  I am reminded that these large animals who have such power are really such fragile creatures.

When I ventured out in the yard this morning, I saw a few signs of Spring.  Some brave daffodils are blooming, as are the forsythia and camellias.

But most of the beautifully landscaped yard is brown and the plants look forlorn. I know that soon enough budding and regrowth will occur.  But today I am staying close to the fire and warmth of the house.  I had wanted to get to the garden to put in some more seeds.  With the rain pouring down, it seems unlikely that will happen today.

Tomorrow C. and I are going to a concert.  This is the first one in a long time.  I am sure that there will be a lot of middle aged folks like us there.  The band is Pink Floyd Experience.  We both wish that we had seen the original Floyd back in the day but since that didn't happen, we are going to see this tribute band that is supposed to be quite good.

I have some particularly interesting memories of rock concerts.  Some were fairly tame while others such as a particularly raucous one at American University in DC, were drug and drunk fests.  I was too young for Woodstock but this had to be a microcosm of what happened there.  Aside from smoking some weed on occasion, I wasn't into drugs or alcohol.  A young woman standing next to me, freaked out on acid, had to be carried out.

I wonder what happened to all those hippies.  Are they still going to rock concerts? Are they old addicts/alcoholics or working on Wall Street?  Do they still care about peace and love? A lot of idealism was part of our culture then.  I prefer that to the blatant hatred that seems to be the overriding sentiment among so many today.

Anyway,  time for me to get back to reading and maybe taking a nap.  I think watching the fire is going to be a good way to spend this dreary afternoon.

Not just one day

I am doing my best to be happy in this time when there are so many things going wrong with the world. Little kids and teachers are killed by terrorists.  The police and citizens are killing each other. And it all seems that the world has gone madder than usual lately.

In the midst of it, I escape to the barn and to ride my horse. He is adjusting well, and his closeness and nuzzling of my hair and chest fill me with love.  It is a simple uncomplicated love here.  Not much asked of each other except respect and good manners.

I hear at meetings the sadness of those who are struggling with family and the expectations of Christmas.  It is another day, albeit one that has lost meaning in its commercialization. For me, every day needs to be about caring and kindness, compassion and empathy.  Not just one day. Every day.

I am at a loss to understand the amount of dysfunction in the world. I cannot change the hearts of madmen and murderers.  I watch the garden growing and see the dogs playing. I hug and hold my beloved close at night. I go to the boat to have a night alone and listen to the waves slap the hull.  And I whisper to my horse and feed him carrots, knowing that I will be with him to the end.

My thoughts are with those who are sick and suffering today.  I wish that I could touch you and hold you and whisper that all will be okay.  And that what isn't okay today may be righted for you tomorrow. I hope so, and send that thought out to the universe and a world in chaos.  Not just one day, but every day I wish you peace.

PS: I just learned that dear Kathleen over at Sittin on a Porch died this morning. Her last post was beautiful.  You can read it here. And then this quote on her page:

Everyone dies. I died. Someone let the air out of my balloon. I'm free. Don't focus on the left over carcass of a deflated balloon. Open up a window. Blow up a balloon. Life/death. It's just a breath away. ~Susan Hunt

Lots of years

Today is our wedding anniversary.  I surprised my wife with the dozen reds. And we are going to lunch and a movie. What we do on this day isn't the most important thing. Rather, it's how we feel about each other.

I am grateful for every day that we have together, as partners in this life and best friends. We have worked together, fished together, birthed animals together, sailed together, cried together, and laughed together.

All these years were part of a growing process in our relationship.  We didn't know how to be a couple at first because neither of us understood how to have a relationship.  We weathered a lot of storms over these years. The love that we have did not lessen over time but has grown. Hoping for many more years together, C.

I am not in·val·id

I am home from my journey. And I must say that the celebration of life far exceeded any that I could have imagined. There were many people there, some I knew but had not seen for decades and some that I had not met before.  Each person that I talked with had fond memories of my cousin.  I heard from them that he was a good neighbor, friend, golf partner, party guy back in the day, and highly regarded within his profession.

His wife did a fantastic job of having old photos scattered about.  And the memory book in which each person wrote of their remembrances of my cousin was touching.

But the reading of a letter to all of us by his wife was the most profound. She read about what their life had been like and that he wanted us to know that he was not an invalid nor was he in·val·id in any way during his illness.  And his words: "And so--I was not and am not an invalid. No one has to be. Invalid is an illusion. If you ever find yourself labelled as such, try to invalidate the judgment and seize the opportunity to discover your personal light to help heal every particle and cell on this planet. Start with granting yourself Forgiveness, Peace, and Unconditional Love: these qualities lead to physical and spiritual healing."

So I am glad that I went. I am glad that I shared laughter in memories of him. I feel as if the afternoon was filled with goodness--good people, good times, good food, good memories.

I will keep remembering his words that I am not in·val·id.  I will call that up when I feel small and cast aside in some ways. No I am not in·val·id.

I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you. ~Walt Whitman

Released this morning from all pain

During the darkest, most terrifying time of my life, an older man took my calls 24/7, helped me to think through my choices before acting rashly, listened to the rage and heartbreak that seemed bottomless, met with me when I was melting down, occasionally reminded me to get off my pity pot, and loved me fiercely through it all. He was fond of saying that he was a 19 year old spirit trapped in a broken-down body. This morning, he was released from that broken-down body. I am so happy for him, that his suffering is ended. But, I will miss him terribly. I have saved the emails and even the voice messages on my phone.  And I can read or listen to those to recall his presence.  And his voice remains in my head, recalling the last time I talked to him.

Today, in celebration of my friend's life, I will do my best to seize the day, even though my back is in agony this morning.  I will remind myself that memories are made of small things as well as those occasions that are momentous. I will be grateful instead of stuck in fear or impatience.  I know that my friend is part of a great energy swirling around.  We came together out of a connection, felt deep inside.  And that connection we felt has made me aware of how much joy and gratitude I have in my life.  Rest easy, my friend.

Afterlife

My friend and mentor is dying. I went to see him today at the Hospice Center, knowing that his death will come very soon. He was unresponsive. I have read that hearing is the last sense to go, so I talked to him and read one of my favorite poems to him.

His birthday is in another week so I read Dylan Thomas's Poem in October. I remember how this poem touched something deep inside me when I first read it years ago. It has been a poem for me to gauge the passing of my years. My thirtieth year to heaven is long gone but these words still ring true:

"My birthday began with the water- 
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name 
Above the farms and the white horses 
And I rose And walked abroad in shower of all my days...." 

Sitting next to my friend and watching his breathing in and out, made me think about what lies beyond death. I told him that I would see him on the other side. I don't know what the other side will be, but I know what I would like it to be. It would be what I experienced this week on the boat.

My ideal would be to see the sun rise over the ocean, as it pushed back the night and painted the sea with silver and gold, shimmering like diamonds on the surface. The way it flooded the dunes with an ambient magical light that was warm and beautiful, bouncing off the clouds.  I watched the dolphins cruise by and the seagulls fly overhead.  I watched the formations of pelicans soar on the thermal air currents as they flew in front of the waves.  I watched the dogs run through the surf wagging their tails and admired the reflection of the vast sky overhead in the tidal pools.  I admired the way the clouds changed color as the sun rose and how they drifted over the sea slowly and languidly changing shape and form.  I listened to the birds singing in the trees and marveled at how many wildflowers were blooming and how they covered the dunes.  I was uplifted to see the butterflies migrate down the beach, and the sound of crickets was music to my soul.  I appreciated life at the moment because it was beautiful and meaningful to me.  

So I don't  know what Heaven looks like and do not deny or accept how others see it.  But when I looked around and above this morning and felt the experience I had right then in that moment, the peace it gave me, I believe I saw my Heaven all around me.

Letting go of Pandora

Today, we are taking our 18 year old cat, Pandora, to be euthanized. It is time. She has steadily been losing weight and what little she eats goes through her. Her breathing is labored and she is lethargic today.  We give our animals every opportunity to tell us when the time has come. And now it has.

Pandora belonged to my wife's parents who adopted her as a one year old. Mom and Pop loved that cat. We got Christmas and birthday cards from Pandora. And Pandora was the one who was with Mom when she died, having moved from the adjacent bed to lie next to Mom on the day before and the day after she died. Pandora then came to live with us, adapting to the other cats slowly but relishing the attention given to her.

It seems oddly coincidental that Pandora looks like a skeleton, having lost so much weight over the past month.  She is the cat version of what Pop looked like before he died.  "Failure to thrive" seems to happen to both humans and animals when life has dwindled to the point where the body is wasting away. Every time I look at her now and stroke her bony frame, it tears at my heart because I am reminded of Pop's last days.

I don't have much more to say about this. Our love for animals is huge.  But the animals tell us when they are sick and suffering. Keep us in your thoughts as we carry on with letting go of Pandora.

Pandora on the bed after Mom died

Another beginning

I don't like New Year's and all its celebrations.  The point of celebrating another year gone seems like wishing my life away. And at this point that is what it is.  I am becoming more aware with each passing year that time is slipping away.  I am not looking forward to 2014 because I think it's best to just stay in this day and not project all kinds of good or bad things about the future.

I can hope though. And I surely hope that 2014 will be good, because in so many ways this past year was difficult. There is nothing to do but improve on last year.  As they say, there is no where to go but up.

I realize that I can make the most of every day, even though they seem to be slipping away from me at an alarming rate.  I can't make the days slow down or the minutes of our lives stop ticking away.  And each day gone is a day that I can't get back.

Sometimes I think about all the time that I spent being unhappy and filled with self-pity--feeling sorry for myself because of so many years spent with alcoholics, time spent worrying about someone else, days spent wishing I were someone else.  The sad litany of a person out of sorts with themselves--adrift and basically unconscious about so much.

I feel less out of sorts these days. I am able to bounce back from disappointments and despair a lot quicker than I once did. But I still have my moments of sadness and a feeling of unease when the disease of alcoholism comes through at the most unexpected moments.  I still think about what life would have been like if there had been no alcoholism around me.  The "what ifs" are a dead end street.  The past can't be redone, but I don't have to keep living in it and repeating it.

So on this last day of 2013, I am going to look at it as another day to do the next right thing. It isn't a special day because it's New Year's Eve, but one like any other in which I can choose to move forward, say a kind word to others, and practice the principles of love and acceptance.  If I can do that every day, then there is nothing to fear in seeing one year gone and another beginning.