An Adventure!

Yesterday I had scheduled a walk with Mary, a new friend through Education for Ministry.  She was one of the food bringers in November and has also been one of the folks who texts me regularly to check up on me. I was looking forward to seeing her neighborhood, as it's in north Bend, a part of town I don't know.

A female min pin from wikicommons

When I got to her house, however, she told me that she and her husband had captured a lost dog.  She said it had been wandering around and around her neighborhood for a few hours.  She asked if I could help them figure out what to do with it.

The dog was a darling min pin -- Miniature Doberman Pinscher -- wearing a cute pink sweater.  So first off I looked at her tags -- three, none with the phone number, but one of the tags was a chip notice. Then I knew  if we took her to a vet or the humane society we could figure out who owned her.

She seemed hungry and thirsty, so I asked Mary if they had some cheese and we gave her a few big bites of cheese and some water.  Mary's spouse cut a length of turquoise nylon rope for us to use as a leash and we walked around the neighborhood, knocking on doors, once being told by a young girl that she knew where the dog lived but it turned out to be the home of a guy who "used to have a dog like that."

Finally, we bundled the little girl into my car and drove southeast to a curving road that became 27th, road to the Deschutes County Humane society.  The Minigirl sang piteously much of the way but finally Mary's constant petting and reassurance calmed her down.  Once we got to the Humane Society Headquarters, I got some interesting information..

We shoulda called!

Seems that people call in their missing animals to the shelter and that this baby had been called in at about noon.  If we had called, we could have connected with the owners in a few minutes rather than an hour.  They actually lived just a block from another Education for Ministry student and my friend of the past few years, David.  And David and his spouse also live in Mary's neighborhood in the Northern District!

The Humane society gal got on the phone with the owners.  After diligently asking both me and them if phone numbers could be shared, she gave me the phone number.  I called it and spoke to a gentleman on who gave me the pup's address.  I plugged the address into my phone, connected phone and car and unfortunately somehow also turned on the radio station I stream constantly -- Hank's Gumshoe OTR.  After a short time with "The Fat Man" (I think), Mary figured out where we were going and I turned off the phone connection.

When we got the girl home, big man came out to the car.  He was tall and thick with curly gray hair and beard.

"You don't know," he said.  "You don't know.  How important.  Our little girl." He took my hand in an awkward way.  I dropped his hand then he took it again and planted a bill in my fist.  I must have looked shocked at him - I probably raised my brows.  Then he nodded his head.  "Please?"  So I put it in my pocked without looking at it's size.

I got out and opened the back door.  The handsome little dog was on the back seat where she'd been sleeping since the shelter.  She now held up her head. The tip of her little tail wagged the tiniest bit.  She looked quite sheepish and ashamed.

The big man said, "Conchita you bad girl!"  And she leapt into his arms.

Mary and I then drove the few blocks back to her house.  At that point I took the bill out of my pocket.  A picture of America's drunkest president!  

I plan to leave it for housekeeping when I leave the Oxford this morning.

A comment:

I enjoy adventures!  Unexpected moments in life that lead to pleasurable discoveries or difficult life lessons.  Well, the latter I shouldn't really say I enjoy. But learning is always useful.  Is suffering useful?  Or is it necessary?  My goodness.  Some theological questions just snuck into this lovely description of fun with a friend.  Oh well.  Theology is everywhere -- like ideology, power, an the Holy Spirit.

A final comment:

If it's not one thing, it's my mother.  Mom used to talk about going off on adventures.  I'm sure I had many fun adventures with her.

 

The Hotels

 So, I didn't plan to go back to Hoteling but when I crashed last week I decided to stop overnight at the
Pine Ridge Inn.  It had a lovely view of the river from it's little deck but I wasn't a huge fan of all the construction outside.  But it's a nice setting and close to a brewpub.  That stay started as just a thought and then my therapist strongly recommended I get out of the house.

After spending the weekend in the house, I thought I'd like to spend a few days at the Sunriver Resort.  Well, not so much.   It's a beautiful site but a little cold for walking around.  I was in a beautiful big suite, but it was too far away from food and when I ordered food it came late and I got frantic.  My brain isn't completely right right now.  It's really reactive.

So I came back to the Oxford.  I love the Oxford, where the comfort is real and the room design is ironic.   The bed is so comfortable, the tub is deep and would be perfect for sex, if I were still having it.   I have two more nights here.  

Winston likes it too, except for the elevator.  He hates the elevator.  He balks whenever we're near the front doors so I need to pick him up.  The Elevator is definitely full of anti-poodle-evil. 

I am comfortably numb -- eating and sleeping.

Yesterday I got some stuff done -- took 8 boxes of books (approximately 220 books) to Goodwill, vacuumed the stairs in the house and upstairs, did a little shopping, then met with my first contractor, Eric from Neal Kelly.  From him I got the bad news about old houses and asbestos.  Sigh.

My plan is to call a few more contractors today and see my grief therapist.  I've also, on the advice of my friend Diana, I'm staying an extra night here -- so through Saturday.  I hope to have enough of the house cleaned by then to be able to go home for awhile.

The Widow's Handbook

 My friend and fearless reader, Stacey, gave me this book of poetry.

I opened it to this poem:

THOSE DAYS

by Mary Oliver

When I think of her I think of the long summer days
  she lay in the sun, how she loved the sun, how we
    spread our blanket, and friends came, and

the dogs played, and then I would get restless and
  get up and go off to the woods
    and the fields, and the afternoon would

soften gradually and finally I would come
  home through the long shadows and into the house
    where she would be

my glorious welcoming, tan and hungry and ready to tell
  the hurtless gossips of the day and how I
    listened leisurely while I put

around the room flowers in jars of water --
  daises, butter-and-eggs, and everlasting--
    until like our lives they trembled and shimmered
      everywhere.

I liked coming first to this poem because Will appears in it three times (to my eyes). 1) as the Mary Oliver character in it, with her connection to the earth and flowers.  Will was deeply carnal and earthy, of the earth.  He cooked well, grew things well.  He loved growing vegetables and flowers.  The first spring of our marriage I dug up a garden area of the lawn of his house in Pocatello and he planted tomatoes, squash and corn.  

2) The character of her deceased wife also makes me think of Will because she likes to gossip as did he.  3)  And then the relationship itself, with it's loving loseness, reminds me of Will's and my relationship -- allowing each other freedom until the dementia made freedom almost impossible for either of us.

As a poet I also like the enjambed tercets -- their stumbling quality feels like grief to me.  And the sudden fourth line stumble stop on "everywhere" actually reminds me of some of my poet's tricks.

CRASH!

 I crashed last week.

Up through yesterday.*

 Maybe today will be better.

It felt unfair, as I told my grief therapist.

I had a practiced story -- that I never said it was unfair that Will had dementia and that I was a dementia carer for 4 years, or 7 years, depending on how I was counting, but that it felt very unfair that I was experiencing this level of grief at this time.  I've been grieving and managing my grief for a long, fucking time.

And then people tell me, "You lost your husband of 48 years."

I am feeling my fucking feelings, thank you very much.  I don't seem to have a lot of choice with that.  I've been screaming in the car.  I fall on the floor and cry.  I bark at people.  Not literally....yet.  Wouldn't be prudent.

My therapist says to set a timer and know that I can do anything for 10 minutes at a time.  Whenever she says this (and, yes, she has to repeat it; I'm very slow right now) I think about Doug Booster saying that we could do anything for 2 minutes -- meaning hold a squat or plank or do squat jumps.

I'm desperate to be with people and I'm afraid to be with people.   

Last night I showed up to my Zoomed EFM class to cry and leave.  I'd actually brought my FBPortal with me here to the Sunriver Lodge (where I thought I'd spend three nights but I feel too alone here -- so transferring to the Oxford tomorrow night). I'd thought I could meet with my folks.  But I had a beer at lunch, my defenses were down and nope, nope, nope.  Couldn't do it.  A couple of folks checked in on me afterwords...thank you Mary, David, and (church) Stacy, if you read this.

I am blessed with two old friends who checked in on me - thank you (school) Stacey and Dianna.  

I am not crying yet this morning so today might be a better day.

Here is the $64,000 question:  Who is Kake sans Will?

------------------------

* This statement is illogical because it implies that a crash is an ongoing event.  Perhaps one should find a better metaphor.**

** Just shut the fuck up, Superego.  KnowatImsayin'?

 

 

 

Dear Will

Gray kitty born somewhere the last week of December, 2021 (photo by krakenimages

 

Dear Will - 

You would have enjoyed your funeral.  

"Except for the papist mummery, of course." 

Part of a Beatles Valentine I created for Will in 1972

But you would have appreciated my reading choices, Julie G.'s Mozart selections, the long Eulogy that perfectly captured your contrariness, Lilli Ann's song stylings, and the wonderful wicker coffin with it's colorful floral spray.

You would also have loved Kevin's slow drive to the graveyard with lights flashing, me choosing to sit in the hearse, the prayers at the graveside, the throwing of dirt.  You always liked the tough reality of dirt.

You might have been both annoyed and flattered by my sudden storms of tears as I was completely in the moment and not hiding behind a camera.

You would have enjoyed most of the wake but might have invited people to go home sooner.

You would certainly NOT have approved of how much money I spent on honoring you!  ("I would have been fine in a pine box. You spent how much on Pruett when you could have just handed the obituary to Jed - he can read, can't he?  The flowers were nice but aren't there church ladies to arrange them?  Costco has nice bundles.") 

I miss our life together, dear love, before you got dementia.  

I pray that God gives you your wish to be reincarnated as a kitty in a good home.  I will keep my eyes open for a gray cat born the last week of December, 2021.  I'm sure it will find me when it needs to.  I will know you when I see you.

And I will always love you.  

Kakie

Karen

Kake

Once Mrs. Wilbur

Huck

Days 8 - 12 - The Clearing Out Begins

For the past few days I've been cleaning, talking with friends, responding to funeral preparations, and travel planning.  This coming year will  be one of travel, most of it as a singleton.

"Free at last, free at last."

my dog and my gun case

My Grief Therapist, Sarah, says that I need to figure out the difference between the grief over the dementia and the true, lifelong sorrow over the loss of my partner. And as she reminded yesterday, I'm not suddenly alone.  I've been alone for years.  No wonder it's much easier to sleep in the house than I thought it would be. But I can't sit still very well.  Sarah says this is because I've been in hyper-arousal for 4 years and that it takes time for my brain and body to turn that off.

What I'm finding is that I want to get rid of almost all the furniture in the house.  Yesterday, the wonderful workers at College Hunks Moving Junk came and picked up the three falling-apart 1930s chest of drawers that Will bought with Velma's house when he bought it from her in 1973, 6 months before we got married.  I feel that by giving stuff away I'm also getting rid of some of my anger at Will for the 7 years of grief and last two years of his slow slow dying.

My anger sometimes leads to me yelling at him in the house (now that's he's dead and can't be hurt by it.)  I'm also playing loud music in the house -- disco!  Yay SiriusXM Studio 54!

Day 5-7 My Sister Visits

 

 My dear sister Betsy came over from Eugene on the bus on Thursday.  She has been cleaning and providing advice and hanging out with me.  She was originally scheduled to come over on the very day Will died to take care of him while I went to New York to see Hugh Jackman.  I cancelled my trip to New York when Will went into the hospital bed because I knew Betsy couldn't take care of him in that situation.  I knew nobody could at that point but Jen and I.  And then Hugh reported he had COVID so I wouldn't have seen him anyway!  (My friend Andria said that he was disappointed that I wouldn't be there!  hahahahaha)

Tonight I'll be on my own in the house for the first time.  We'll see how it goes.  I'm bringing in my big gun to have next to the single bed.  Yes, when alone, I generally have a gun next to the bed.  

Will died a week ago this afternoon.

I'm taking Betsy to the Hawthorn Station this morning  at 6:30 so she can catch the bus back to Eugene and miss the predicted storm.  Then I'm going to Church and this afternoon I'll have a nice zoom with my friend David.

I'm also trying to cut down my weed use.

Days 2-4: The Oxford

 I haven't yet looked at what I paid for my three nights at my favorite Bend hotel.  I used room service for breakfast and dinner each day, purchasing dinner for friends who were visiting with me.  The beds are supdr comfortable, there's a collection of pillows, they had a bottle of wine waiting for me in the room, and welcomed Mr. Winston.

It was very snowy and icy while I was downtown so I spent a little time at the house doing some cleaning but not much.  I published this picture to Facebook to let friends know that I'm taking care of myself.

Day 1: Stacey's House

My first night of widowhood I slept on the couch in my friend Stacey's house.  I felt loved and cared for but my old back didn't fare so well.

Nevertheless, I will recommend Stacey's house for the companionship, especially companionship for my little dog, Winston, who is now having an affair with Frankie, Stacey's dog.  He keeps singing, "Stacey's Dog has got it goin' on".

Frankie and Winston Photo stolen from Stacey D.'s Facebook