Tag: grief

Captain Rolly and Grace

I went through a box of pictures I found in the queen mum’s storage today. Pictures of her life with her second husband Captain Rolly. I love pictures and I find it hard to throw them away. I feel like I’m throwing away not only my mum’s life but now her husbands. The Captain was a dapper sea dog and he and Grace look good together. Most of the pictures record their life on Maui where they lived on their trimaran Amazing Grace. There are many pictures of them at weddings, some of the people I recognize but not all. I had suggested that Grace come to Maui when I visited her in Washington DC where she lived after she divorced my father. It was one of my better ideas. Grace blossomed on Maui and before long found her mate Rolly. You can tell from the pictures how happy they both were, those are not phony smiles I’m looking at. They knew how to enjoy life. I think that is a gift. It helps to remember how much love they had for each other instead of the sadness I feel as I throw their lives away.

The night Captain Rolly proposed to Grace at the Pioneer Inn in Lahaina.
The night Captain Rolly proposed to Grace at the Pioneer Inn in Lahaina.

Monday

I cleaned out the queen mum’s purse today. I had bought her a new one for her birthday but she never got to use it. I thought about taking a picture of all the things inside the purse. Is that morbid? I hate purses. I don’t like to carrying anything with me. Mum was a lady so she had her compact, lipstick, hairbrush, reading glasses, wallet, sunglasses, breath mints, all the necessities a lady needs.  I applied for a job writing for an online site and was rejected. I felt it in my chest immediately, just for a second. The fog is floating through the trees on this balmy winter morning and I can hear hummingbirds whizzing by their feeder.

Meltdown #1

For 57 days my life was an emotional rollercoaster. I was running a marathon in my head and couldn’t stop. The only way I slept was if I self-medicated which lasted for six hours. I need eight hours to function. My emotional stress was constant. It was exhausting. I knew I needed to slow down and take care of myself and I also knew I needed to play this pain out. I had to be as close as I could get to my authentic self or this grief would come back to haunt me. I don’t want to live with pain like that anymore; there is too little time. Nothing like death to remind you to live.

I slowly started doing things to relax. I went and soaked in a hot tub for an hour and let my pain seep into the warm salt water. It really helped as I use water to find my self when it has run away. I love water, it heals me.

During this hurricane of hurt I had a few emotional breakdowns. Once after waiting 20 minutes on the phone to cancel a subscription of my mums’ I let loose on the operator about the fact that mum had two subscription for the same thing as the constant barrage of renewal notices had caused her to pay twice. “Surely you could see that it was the same person at the same address getting the same information.” One of mums’ fears was dementia, so she would get too embarrassed when she would make any kind of accounting mistake. In the six years I was around I watched her keep charge of her banking and medical issues plus a plethora of medicines. I couldn’t have done it. There I was screaming at this man on the phone, crying hysterically about how mean it was to take advantage of the elderly and then in the middle of it I hung up without “officially” cancelling her subscription. I wonder how often this has happened to operators?

Grief

I sometimes feel I am wearing my grief. It hangs over my head and slips down my face and pushes on my shoulders. Can you see it? Can you tell? I think I can see it on other faces. The ones who forgot to brush their hair or put on a smile. I wish that we still worn black arm bands to let the world know, don’t look too close, don’t expect too much, don’t mind my tears.

CHANGE

I slept last night. Deep, natural, body relaxing sleep, the first good sleep in forty-five days; that’s when she fell. When the queen mum was still with us I always slept with one ear listening for the phone. I did that for six years. I would wake up in the middle of a dream and think, where is the cell phone? Jumping up to make sure it was somewhere close so I could hear it and if I couldn’t find it, that meant I left it in the car. Trying not to fully wake up while I’m doing this or I may never get back to sleep. I never had kids but I imagine once you do that you learn to sleep like I did, always on alert. After I got the queen mum Lifeline I felt a little better because if for some reason they couldn’t reach me she was to go to the ER. Though I did have to condition her to this idea. Once she fell three times in the living room on soft carpet hitting soft couch or soft chair. “Are you sure you are okay Miss Grace, I think I’ll call your daughter just to let her know what’s going on.” I was her “Big Brother”. I don’t have to worry about that anymore, I could leave my cell phone in the car all night if I wanted to, or not even answer it. It feels good, but it also felt good having someone to care about.

I got attitude

My petite estate sale is tomorrow, and I’m okay ready. A so called friend who I have never really had any dealings with except having to go to her husbands boring birthday parties because he is an old friend of my mom Grace and her then husband Rolly called up and offered to help with the sale about three days ago. I called right back and said yes please because I have pretty much given up buying stuff and had no idea how to price ( I have a give it away mentality, which when you are broke is maybe, why you are broke}. So she doesn’t show up the first day she said she might and the second day she calls to say she thinks she is sick and doesn’t want to infect ( so Port Townsend considerate) and then goes on to say she doesn’t price stuff, just waits to somebody asks and then you know makes a party of it and has fun trying to get them to pay a good price. it’s around this point as I listen to the message I hang up as yeah that is how I feel right now, let’s party with my dead mothers’ stuff. So then she calls back and says I just realized what I said to you, I’m so sorry. Guess what? I’m busy and you aint’ helping so goodbye. I had made a sign for the estate sale that said “Make me an offer but don’t offend me. I have attitude.” When I showed it to a real friend who did help she said “that might be a little off putting”. I felt I had toned it down, my original sign was: Make me an offer, but don’t offend me. I’m not in the mood to suffer fools.

My Town?

I have lived in mum’s gentrified, adorable, PNW town for six years. Besides being her caregiver, I have had jobs working at a hotel, cleaning houses, and pet sitting. I haven’t met a lot of people but I took some creative writing classes and swam at the local pool (lap swimmers are very unfriendly). I was hurt when mum died and the only people who called to offer sympathy were two of her old local friends. I am grateful that my old friends called from around the country. No one that I had met in this quaint, almost all white bread, politically correct, GMO sensitive town felt the need to call. They are so aware here, they are too correct.
Here is one example of my limited exchange with “my” community.
For almost four years I have known a couple in town that I once worked for as their housekeeper, I have babysat their animal, I have the keys to their house even though I no longer houseclean for them, I have the keys because they have been known to call me up to check on house, animal whatever. I have had Thanksgiving dinner with them, the wife and I have girl dinners together. I am a Facebook friends with both of them so they could read about what I am up too. The husband calls me up to ask me for some help (they always pay generous) and during our conversation after I assure him I would be happy to take care of his concerns he says to me “I hear your mom died, were you close?” My heart skipped a beat and I’m sure my face turned bright red (good thing we were talking on the phone) as I replied “Yes we were, I’ve been her caregiver for the last six years, that is why I moved here.” With no hesitation he goes back to talking about his problems. My town. Am I concerned he might see this? Not really, I doubt he would even think I was talking about him.