The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

 Cue music 

Thanks, Ennio Morricone.

The Good:  It was so great to have Thanksgiving dinner provided by my friend Amy.  I hadn't seen her in such a long time, it seemed.  My friends from school work and are busy.  It was good to see other folks and to feel connected to people and have a good meal.  I got tired and left early (I'd awakened at 3:15 that morning and didn't get back to bed.  The food, an indigenous feast, was terrific.  I've gotten over my feelings of being dropped from this friendship group.  That may be thanks to the magnets which have been exercising my brains for the past couple of weeks.  I'm better able to see and accept the reality of how people come and go from one's life and it doesn't mean that one is a bad, evil, person.

The Bad:  Last year on this day, the Saturday after Thanksgiving, a person with whom I'd been friends for three years decided I was a whore and cut me out of his life.  I cried all Saturday afternoon and again through the church service the next day.  I had come to love this person as a friend.  And remember, I was still in the state of mind that rejection meant that I was an evil person.  I was also in the last two months of Will's life.

The Ugly: memories of last year.  Of Will at 113 pounds.  Of the shit and piss and managing those last two months.  It was so very hard for him to die.  The animal in him was powerful and it fought those last two months.  That was an ugly time.

Back to the Good:  But I did it.  I provided love and care and cleaned up shit and slept in a shitty bed one or two nights to stay with him and keep him loved.  The good included the Trinity Choir coming to sing to me.  I did it.  I got through it.  I got through my heart becoming a dumpster fire.

Back to the Good:  When I was very young, I asked God to let me live for love.  I thought I was talking about romance.  But what is dementia care but giving oneself over to Love?

It's a good thing to be sad without being depressed.

So...what I need now is to face the coming month less like a weepy widow and more like a gunfighter.  I will come out of this slough of despond stronger than before.  

And maybe with a good hat.