Merry Christmas

I know I’ve been very good at cataloguing the grief during this Year of Loss.  Much to my surprise, Christmas has come anyway and so I’m going to list the GIFTS of 2017.

Angels.  I SAW the angels come down and carry my Warrior Father to Valhalla.  I SAW them all covered in the Shekinah glory of God.  Not everyone gets that experience.  Although it’s messed me up a little bit (psychologically), I am so So SO grateful.  For all of my words, I still believe in my heart of hearts that I am somehow exempt from grace because of my “sins.”  I finally realized God doesn’t reveal Himself like that to just *anyone*.

He really is close to the broken-hearted.

Cher.  What more needs to be said?

God really is close to the broken-hearted.

Friendship.  I became convinced the world was going to end when my Dad passed, especially after The Bank started running their game.  I’ve never felt like I had nowhere to turn and those were dark days, realizing it really is a cold, cruel world and no one actually cares about my situation, even the people who are being paid quite well to do so.  I didn’t know what to do without my best friend and confidant.

But then angels started to surround me and kept surrounding me until I lifted the heavy veil of grief and saw them.  I have solid friends today that I did not have when this year began.  I accept that nothing will ever replace what I had and, if I were honest with myself, I don’t want a replacement.  What I really want is to stop hurting.  My friends help with that Every. Single. Day.  

Just like my Dad would.

God really is close to the broken-hearted.

Kitties!  I guess I really AM a weird Cat Lady.  By September, the number of funerals I attended grew uncomfortably and my grip on Life was weakening.  I’ll never forget the stormy afternoon Gypsy appeared CRYING at my back door.  Eight days later, Equinox was born in my bedroom closet.  What more proof of life do I need? 

God really is close to the broken-hearted.

Mommy.  I got to hug my Mama in one of her favorite places (the Dollar Store!) and tell her how much I miss her.

God really is close to the broken-hearted.

Random Acts of Kindness.  I’ll never forget the afternoon I wandered into a local establishment, wanting a pizza after a difficult session at Verizon closing my Dad’s account and putting my phone in my name.  Rosa (now a friend) at Verizon was perfectly lovely, but emotionally, I was spent.  I went next door to get a pizza (pizza makes everything better, right?) and go home.  My eyes were leaking and the young man who rang me up asked me if I was all right.  I explained.  His eyes welled up, too, and, as he handed me my pizza, he said, “This in on the house.  I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I can’t tell you how many coffees and treats and cocktails and groceries and pretty little shiny things “strangers” have bestowed upon me.  I can complain pretty hard about Salem, Oregon, but it really showed me its best this year.  (Now if it would just start snowing!)

God really is close to the brokenhearted.

Steak Dinner.  The Knight treated me to a steak dinner from over 1,000 miles away.

God really is close to the broken-hearted.

Strength.  There ain’t no grit-builder like pulling the plug on your True Love.

2017, I don’t ever want to see you again.  You were so much worse than 2012 and 2013 put together.  However, you did teach me that I can survive ANYTHING, and that’s a gift for which I am very grateful. 

Merry Christmas, Life.  I’m going to give you another chance.

Two Steps Away

When my Mama died, my Dad and I were inundated with visits and meals and phone calls making sure we were eating and surviving. 

When my Father died, I expected the same. 

It didn’t happen.

In fact, when I returned to Oregon, people expected the same level of productivity out of me and got “offended” when I could not meet their expectations.  So it’s been a long hard year of not meeting expectations, in addition to everything else.

Life without my Dad is something I never wanted to experience.  I’ve spent the past six years constructing “safetys” for what I knew was coming.  When The Change came, every single one of those safetys failed.

And then the six other funerals and the cat died and the financial problems and the sexual assault and the “visit” from #3.

We all know I’m still SUPER PISSED over being replaced while in the hospital recovering from injuries sustained in a car accident.  I know I should not have been surprised -- this was an organization that expected its female volunteers to endure constant sexual harassment from a donor (you were worth $400 a quarter, ladies), but still…Is that how you treat people, community organization?  My only comfort in this situation is that you replaced me before I could tell you my Dad left you $10,000.  So there!

It may seem like I am complaining – and maybe I am – but my actual point in sharing the above is to set the stage for what can and did happen next.

I know in my cerebrum that I MUST let all of that stuff go and so I did.  I kept telling myself over and over to let it all go.  Each unanswered message or phone call reminded me that my time of being someone else’s priority had passed.  I should be grateful that people remember me at all.  I had a great 50 years that most people never experience.

Without any of the structures upon which I’d built my life, I was at a complete loss.  And totally on my own and me, myself, and I have been at odds for decades.

I always Always ALWAYS give 110% and so I put 110% into “letting go.” 

It wasn’t until the Travelling Preacher said, “I don’t know who I’m talking to right now, but one of you – and you don’t even know it – is two steps away from suicide through your careless behavior” and I fell out, realizing that was the path I was on. 

The path I’d been on for decades.  

My Mama raged at me for 34 years about my “careless behavior” and I never understood what she meant until that moment.

So now that the demons of “two steps away” and “self-destructive behavior” have both been cast out, I feel compelled to share what I’ve learned:

1. I most certainly do NOT want to go out that badly.  Yes, I miss my parents and the pain of no longer being a part of anything is almost more than I can bear, but I DO NOT WANT TO GO THAT BADLY.
2. I wonder how many other people are making their situations worse by compounding grief with additionally painful choices because everything hurts and that’s the “new normal”? 
3. At the risk of sounding totally harsh, The Truth is:  There will be times when every single thing in Life fails you.  I was spoiled that it took so long for me.  Everything you once held on to will be gone and the only person you will be able to count on is yourself.  I’m someone who’s never been able to count on herself and, well…that made the situation so much worse. 
4. Don’t do what I did.  I am damned lucky I saw The Truth before I (unconsciously) did something really careless.

I’m resting comfortably now, and looking forward to spending time with my favorite person this holiday season.