Edge of the Ocean (Stick Figure)

Today I Feel Like... indeed. March 26 is the six-month mark of Eric's death. All the feelings. Ack. I have watched this lovely 6-minute video created by John Teeto and E's other friends three times today, and I thought it might bring some comfort and joy here as well. We miss you so much, buddy... ❤️

I seem to have lost my concentration/focus for blogging.  Perhaps that means I'm experiencing healing to some degree, and don't depend on it as a coping mechanism as much as I used to?  Bereavement group every Monday sustains me, as does therapy every other Monday (I am making great strides sharing my honest thoughts as well as with EMDR).  I continue to express my gratitude for the best family-and-friends support system ever.  Regular get-togethers with Eric's pals (whether IHOP breakfasts or Bob Marley movie viewings) are lovely as well as comforting.

I am getting out of the house and engaging with others more often; still setting boundaries, being more discriminating as to how I'm spending my time, and not allowing myself to take on more than I can handle.

Besides the trip to see Dar Williams in Key West (early-February), I took another road trip with Nancy last week (this time to Brooksville) to visit our long-time friend Peggy-now-Maggie, who moved to Sweden many years ago and now resides in Finland.  We took her out to dinner, convinced her to spend the night with us at our hotel, and stayed up quite late talking.  Much hilarity as well as sadness ensued (her son William overdosed in 2020, so she "gets it").  I also gave her a pouch of E's ashes, as he has never been to Scandinavia... 🤣

Returned from there Wednesday night, went to Gary's Celebration of Life (he was a church friend, ran sound for the Labyrinth Cafe the last two years (2018-19), and coordinated the A/V at Eric's service.  An unexpected and altogether-too-sudden infection and death... 💔

Then Chico, Sarah, and I drove to Pensacola for my friend/college roommate Linda's daughter Rachel's (confused yet?) baby shower (a very long drive but well worth it).  We've stayed close over the years, and of course many memories were conjured, especially Sarah and I driving to Pensacola three weeks after Rachel was born, to meet her and to keep Linda and Craig company.  The Circle Game... 😍

An extra perk was that, on our way home, we stopped in Tallahassee to meet up with Melanie (Nick is in Texas tiling a bathroom!) at a local coffee shop for hugs and catch-up conversation... 💜

And now for Unpacking and Recovery!

P.S.  Eric's friends alerted me that Stick Figure was one of his favorite bands, and they are getting a group together to see them in August.

SONG:  Edge of the Ocean by Stick Figure

BOOK:  Walking Each Other Home: Conversations on Loving and Dying by Ram Dass, Mirabai Bush

POEM:  Somehow by Dorothy Chan

For Norman

You visit me in a dream after passing,

            after I’ve been awaiting you for weeks,

because Chinese belief teaches us our

            loved ones will appear when we’re asleep.

It’s real when I enter the hotel restaurant

            in the middle of nowhere town I live in,

as the Midwest architecture transforms

            into Kowloon at evening time. We eat

bird’s nest soup, and I remember the time

            my father ordered me this four-hundred-

year-old delicacy at Hong Kong airport.

            Out comes the Peking duck, and I ask you:

“Why did it take you so long?” You answer:

            “I arrived once you were strong and ready.” 

Not to Make Loss Beautiful by Gregory Orr

Not to make loss beautiful,

But to make loss the place

Where beauty starts. Where

the heart understands

For the first time

The nature of its journey.

Love, yes. The body

of the beloved as the gift

Bestowed. But only

Temporarily. Given freely,

But now to be earned.

Given without thought,

And now loss

Has made us thoughtful.

My Son the Man by Sharon Olds

Suddenly his shoulders get a lot wider,

the way Houdini would expand his body

while people were putting him in chains. It seems

no time since I would help him to put on his sleeper,

guide his calves into the gold interior,

zip him up and toss him up and

catch his weight. I cannot imagine him

no longer a child, and I know I must get ready,

get over my fear of men now my son

is going to be one. This was not

what I had in mind when he pressed up through me like a

sealed trunk through the ice of the Hudson,

snapped the padlock, unsnaked the chains,

and appeared in my arms. Now he looks at me

the way Houdini studied a box

to learn the way out, then smiled and let himself be manacled.

QUOTE:  "It isn’t always easy to hold on, especially when the world keeps spinning, but it is easier if we hang on together. That way we are connected, linked together, and stronger than any one of us could ever be alone. It does not matter that we are from different backgrounds or different faiths: what matters is that we care with and for one another. The unraveling of reality only occurs when we let go, let go of our hope and our vision. When we hold on to what we believe, our diversity becomes a bond that cannot be broken. So if you feel like you are hanging on, you are, but never alone. Thousands of us are holding on with you." ~ Steven Charleston

"It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them. I was so preposterously serious in those days… Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me… So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly. Lightly my darling…" ~ Aldous Huxley

Mockingbird (James Taylor and Carly Simon)

If you were my Facebook friend (back when I was *on* Facebook), you will remember me extolling the virtues of our Wild Kingdom backyard:  Muscovy ducks, herons, ibises, Egyptian geese, Quaker parrots, squirrels, turtles, and the ubiquitous iguanas.  Sweet, right?  Many an hour has found us sipping our coffee on the balcony, overseeing the actions, and interactions. It's like having our own personal Animal Planet.

I loved all of them, except the latter.  Trying not to use the word Hate again, but I really dislike the prehistoric creatures.  Their appearance is Jurassic-Park horrifying, with their large size, orange color, and spiked back.  They sleep in the trees, and we hear them scritch-scratching, nails on bark, their way down every morning about 9-ish.  We watch the males become territorial with each other (sometimes even fight), and we also see them attempt to attract the females by wagging their heads and shaking the throat gullet in their direction.

For the last month, when we were going regularly to the pool (before the condo association closed it down), my husband and I joyfully watched a family of mockingbirds build a nest just outside the fence.  To and fro, delivering bits and pieces of who-knows-what and, as we entered or departed the gate, they would squawk at us, and we would smile.

Now that the pool area is unpeopled, the iguanas have gotten bold, venturing closer, and it seems they have set their sights on the nest (which we don't know has eggs, or babies, yet).  Last Friday, we watched two of them climb inside the bush, setting off a racket from the birds, who flew about and above with great agitation.  My husband threw down his newspaper, jumped out of his lounge chair, bolted down three flights of stairs, and ran toward the bush, scaring the iguanas away.  We witnessed it again that day, and he repeated his rescue mission.  Nothing happened (that we saw) over the weekend, and it all started up again this morning.  I had always thought iguanas were herbivores but, upon Googling, I found that they do indeed eat eggs.

Honestly, we know we are only postponing the inevitable.  Ahem, Nature:  Cruel, The Circle of Life, Survival of the Fittest, and all that.  We'd just taken such pleasure in watching the nest-building process and, in these days of uncertainty, we've thought of ourselves as First Responders (at least to the mockingbirds).  thankyoujesus the porch is screened, but this is one time I wish it weren't, as I would stockpile a bowl of stones, and throw them at the iguana every time it encroached.  Reminding myself of previous Things We Can (and Can't) Control post.

Ugh. Sigh. Sob.


SONG:  Mockingbird by James Taylor and Carly Simon

BOOK:  The Crows of Pearblossom by Aldous Huxley, Sophie Blackall (Illustrator)

POEM:  Mockingbird by Louis Jenkins

I remember when I was a child I had a pair of canaries
in a cage in my bedroom. I had the idea that I would
raise and sell canaries. I asked one of my sisters if she
remembered them. She remembered that they were
parakeets, not canaries. I asked another sister. She said
she didn't remember any canaries but she remembered
how mean I was to her. My youngest sister doesn't
remember having birds but thinks that we had a pet
rabbit. I don't remember that. My brother thinks we
had a pet crow that talked. I don't remember a crow
but I remember we had a myna bird for a while that
said, "Hello sweetie pie," but he belonged to someone
else. My mother says that she would never have
allowed birds or any other animals in the house. I
remember how the female canary ignored the male
but chirped plaintively to a mockingbird that sang
outside my window all summer long.

QUOTE:  "No; we have been as usual asking the wrong question. It does not matter a hoot what the mockingbird on the chimney is singing. The real and proper question is: Why is it beautiful?" ~ Bertrand Russell

Everything Is Music (Kris Delmhorst)

I am very involved with our South Florida folk and acoustic music scene (have been since February 1998, a story for another time) - one of the events we promote is a monthly songswap. The gathering is held in a member's home and is a circular sharing of music (originals and covers, solos and jams), as well as a potluck and social occasion - I've been hosting the June Open House for 6 or 7 years now. I don't sing or play an instrument but I call myself an active listener - it's a lovely time, with so many different types of music represented (folk, traditional, pop, rock, etc.) and so many instruments and voices chiming in. Feels like family and I do so look forward to the annual opening of my home and heart - 5 p.m. cannot get here soon enough!

SONG: Everything is Music by Kris Delmhorst

BOOK(S): Thank you for the Music by Jane McCafferty

The Song Reader by Lisa Tucker

POEM: Sonnet by Elizabeth Bishop

I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!

There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.

QUOTE: “After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.” ~ Aldous Huxley