Down and Dirty

by fifilaroach on August 9, 2010 · 6 comments

I’m a mess.

The house is about two thirds packed and we are in the “rubble after the bomb” phase of moving. I’m getting more and more overwhelmed about the physical process of packing and have developed tennis elbow to add to my constant back issues. But really, what I am is mentally unfit for duty. No matter how much I try to pump myself up, I can hardly face moving the rest of the things in the house and driving 600 miles in the next two weeks.

Lily is unsettled too.

The past few days, each time she comes into the house she ends up getting extremely upset. This is bold, talking back, telling me off, daring me to punish her type behavior. Today, someone finally loaded up the Nordic Track that we put in the front yard. Its about twenty years old and should have been disposed of before George and I even moved in together. She looked out the window randomly and saw two men take it. Then she had a fit. “It smelled like Dad!” “I wanted it!” “You’re taking everything that ever meant anything to him!” “I’m his daughter, I should decide!” and on, and on. Finally, after making what turned out to be a few empty threats, I called my mom and talked her into letting Lily spend the night, drove her over, came home and collapsed.

I’m afraid.

What if I screw her up? What if I’m not up to raising her alone? What if I’m too old, too permissive, too tired?

What if she turns out to be bi-polar or just so angry and disappointed that she ends up living a miserable life?

What if I end up living a miserable life?

Today, I’m really down, really sad, and I miss George so damn much I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust. My cheeks are hot and my eyes are teary. Everything hurts.

My confidence, and the bravado that I squeeze daily out of my soul is waning. I’m questioning all my decisions and hoping I can get Lily to Asheville in time to attend the first day of school, and that I won’t have ruined our relationship completely by the time we get there.

Why did this happen to us?

I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow, or at least functional, but tonight I feel like the saddest, loneliest girl in the world, and I hate it.

I’m angry.

I’m tired.

I’m gonna have to get over it, though. Gotta keep moving.

Wish me luck.

When George and I got back together after our 16 year hiatus, he sang The Yardbirds’ Heart Full of Soul to me to tell me how it felt.

Sick at heart and lonely

Deep in dark despair.
Thinking one thought only-
“Where is she, tell me where?”
And if she says to you
She don’t love me,
Please give her my message.
Tell her of my plea.

And I know
That if she had me back again,
I would never make her sad.
I’ve got a heart full of soul.

She’s been gone such a long time,
Longer than I can bear.
But if she says she wants me,
Tell her that I’ll be there.
And if she says to you
She don’t love me,
Please give her my message.
Tell her of my plea.

And I know
That if she had me back again,
I would never make her sad.
I’ve got a heart full of soul

Today, I wish I could sing it to him.

{ 6 comments }

Living Between Two Worlds

by fifilaroach on August 2, 2010 · 4 comments

Lily and I are still sharing the bed, but we’ve come to a new agreement. We have decided to put a pillow between us to try to keep her from scooting up on me in the night. I need to get more sleep, and its hard with her tentacles wrapped around me. I’m hoping she’ll move to her own room in the new house, and the pillow barrier is a therapist prescribed baby step.

She spent three nights at my parents’ house and it was blessedly quiet here, and awfully lonely. Each night I called her to say goodnight, and she answered reluctantly, then immediately said, “I got to go!” and then put the phone down, shouting, “I love you!”

I was so glad to sleep alone in the bed. It was a lot easier to get things packed. The stress level in the house was significantly lower. But I missed her every second.

So tonight we’re here in bed and the  pillow is separating us. I snuck my arm over to give her shoulder a squeeze and she said I was “breaking the agreement.”

It’s so hard for me, since George died, to accept even the tiniest changes in my relationship with Lily. I don’t want things to change, but of course, they’re changing every day.

After being gone for three days, she walked into the house and started commenting on all the things that have been packed away and I realized it was going to be a hard day. All our folk art and family pictures are packed up, except for two favorite pictures of George that we saved aside so we could take them to the temporary house. DVDs, art supplies, toys, art, glassware, Christmas stuff, Halloween stuff, all packed.

Lily, Franchesca (our 11 year old next door neighbor) and I worked on random things around the house. We would work on a section and when I got exhausted with whatever we were packing I’d move on to a new area and pack something else. We went to the basement and started sorting George’s winter clothes for disposal. After I moment I looked up and noticed all the color had drained from Lily’s face and she looked like she was about to faint. “Are we giving his clothes away?” she breathed. I showed her all that we are keeping, all the clothes he wore often and carry good memories, and then I told her we were going to work on something else, and we got the heck out of there.

Later, I set her up to read “Little House on the Prairie,” one of her favorite books. I hoped the familiar story would help her cope. Bad idea. The dad in that story is such a strong and important character. After a few minutes, I looked up and she was hovering over me, tears brimming in her eyes. “I was reading and Pa told Laura a story in the book. It reminded me of Dad telling me stories every afternoon. I sat back to think of it and all of a sudden I could smell Daddy.”

“He smelled so good!” she said, and collapsed on top of me.

This led to me wrapping her in a blanket and rocking her on my lap for an hour, while I told her how much I missed George too, and then after a few minutes, about good times we had together and how happy we had been and how he is still with us. Her hands, feet and nose were freezing cold. She had dark circles under her eyes.

Finally, she warmed up, and we had a tickle session and things started to get better, but the rest of the day was very difficult. She had a couple more crying jags. Sara and I took turns trying to distract her and she and I ended up watching “Space Jam” before bed and cuddling Buster and his “family,” (Freckles, a stuffed Dalmation, and Spot, a tiny D

Framing the new house...

almation stuffy that Lily surrounds Buster with while he sleeps. “Buster’s such a good Daddy,” she tells me, as she arranges the toys near him each night.)

We are to the point where there’s no way to keep her uninvolved in the move, and George’s things are everywhere as we sort and evaluate things. She’s anxious about the change, the new school, and especially about leaving this house, the only place she knew George. Though I’m glad to be leaving, I understand how she feels. I’ll be glad not to feel I’m constantly looking for George in this house, but I’ll be sad to lose the feeling that he might be just around the next corner. Grief is irrational, and cruel, and its energy is strong and relentless.

So today, Monday, we are getting going again, and will be working on our bedroom. More sorting of clothes and shoes, books and keepsakes. I’m hoping I can distract Lily with another viewing of “Clash of the Titans.” I’m hoping I can distract myself with fantasies of our new life in Asheville, mentally arranging furniture in our new home, planning our garden, visualizing our first Christmas. It will be a long day.

And when we get tired, we’ll crawl into bed and put our little pillow barrier between us, per our agreement. I’m sure I’ll sneak a squeeze once Lily goes to sleep, and I’m sure I’ll lie there thinking about George, and the unknown future, and the precious past, and how lucky I have been in my  life to have had the opportunity to love these people. So lucky. So sad. So scared. So excited.

Ready to start my fifth life, and I pray it will be a good one, and we can make George proud.

Moving along!

{ 4 comments }

House Progress

by fifilaroach on July 21, 2010 · 2 comments

I am hoping to build a one room guest cottage on the property so that I can have friends visit. Since the house is only three bedrooms, and one is Lily’s playroom, we need an extra space. Not absolutely sure I will have the money to put this up immediately, but I wanted to post the picture of the proposed structure. I love it! Our architect, Ron Brenner, is wonderful.

I guess that is Lily and me standing out front!

I have some new pictures of the house. They aren’t too exciting, but lots of people have asked about progress.

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Who Do You Love?

by fifilaroach on July 18, 2010 · 6 comments

Buster and George

Recently I was petting my dog, Buster, and I suddenly realized that it had been weeks since I had spent any time with him.

Then I realized that it had been months since I fed him.

It absolutely stunned me. I couldn’t believe how out of it I still am.

Buster was always George’s pet.  They hung around together every minute George was home and Buster slept all day in the bed with him, George with his hand on Buster’s back. I swore that George was compromising his sleep with all the togetherness, but if George loved something that was it, and he loved sleeping with Buster.

If Sara hadn’t come to Pennsylvania, I’m afraid not just Buster, but maybe Lily and I would have starved to death and been found in the house days later, TV blaring.

Everyone tells me I’m doing so well after George’s death, but my progress is selective. I can’t sleep without a pill, and I can’t dream without waking up breathing hard and sweating. The house is a mess, in a constant state of flux. Sometimes Lily looks like a little sheen of dirt is on her, and I realize she needed a bath yesterday (or the day before.)

We’re trying to pack, but it is overwhelming, and making decisions is so wrenching I make a few and then go to bed, pull down the room darkening shades, and hibernate. Lily is always with me, scooting closer and closer to me in her sleep until I am hanging off of the bed, another reason to stay awake and dwell on our loss. Nearly a year since George died, and in some ways I feel I haven’t even begun to face his passing.

Watching “Sense and Sensibility” on Masterpiece Theater the other night, I stiffened up when Edward told Elinore, “When my father died, I was like a boat who had lost its anchor. We must all have someone to listen to us and to understand what we feel.”

I always felt so lucky to have a loving, engaged  husband, someone who wanted to witness my life. Our time goes by so quickly, and really, not enough of us have willing witnesses to remember and share our stories.

I hope I am doing that here for George, who remembered every detail of our history and shared it with friends and family at any opportunity. It was something I loved about him, cherished in him.

Without him here, I truly do feel like an anchorless boat, drifting aimlessly.

I’m trying not to numb out, and I’m gathering my strength for this big change in my life. There is still so much unknown ahead, and this is a time when I crave the familiar. I know practically no one in Asheville, and the thought of trying to find friends is daunting.

Lily is excited, but scared, and I am trying to find the right recipe of encouragement about the move and understanding of her reasons for wanting to stay. Loving people effectively during such stress is difficult. We tend to automatically love others the way we ourselves need to be loved. In this situation for me, love is understanding; understanding what I’ve lost, what I fear, how alone I feel. Luckily, these are Lily’s needs as well.

We cling to each other. She craves emotional honesty, and constantly leans against me, hugs me and tells me repeatedly she loves me.

She needs me to tell her honestly how her life is going to change, and she needs me to make it sound really good.

Honesty can come hard, like when she asks  if she will see her friends again. She’s had quite a few breakdowns, getting panicky about her future without familiar classmates and teachers. I tell her the truth, and then we face how it makes her feel together.

When George was here, always sleeping, always trying to get enough rest, I would often lie in bed with him and throw my arm across his chest. Feeling his chest rise, I would think about how everything I loved about him was inside his warm body.

My mom choked on a bite of steak in a restaurant three years ago. As she turned blue, and then black,  I , and then George, a volunteer fireman and then the paramedics worked to dislodge it. They saved her, but since then, I’ve s had an intense fear of those I love being hurt. I’m very aware of how fragile we are.

In the movies the other night, I spent several minutes panicking because Lily was eating popcorn and I had read that day that popcorn is one of the top five choking hazards for children. I imagined her choking, her breathing stopped, another horrible loss. Finally, I got control of my thoughts and tried to pay attention to the rest of the film.

But I left the theater exhausted.

If  I could go back and see George again, could have the ultimate do-over, I don’t think I would do much differently. I told George I loved him, I showed him, I felt it every day. I really have no regrets except for failing to make him change jobs.

In the end, my worst fears were realized and now my husband is gone, and with him so much love and security that anchored Lily and me.

Sometimes that’s just the way it goes, and I know worrying that it might happen again is useless.

But I do lay next to her at night, my arm flung over her chest, thinking about how her thin, delicate body holds her out-sized personality and everything I love. Buster is on my other side, snoring his little snore. We’re together, we three, and after all that has happened, we are happy to have each other.

Facing the realities of life is a scary feeling, and precious, and always, always, I”m grateful for what’s still mine.

{ 6 comments }

Gone Daddy Gone

by fifilaroach on July 8, 2010 · 3 comments

Scout, waiting to enter the Pet Friendly Holiday Inn Express

Well, we did it.

Got to Atlanta, participated in the wedding, and then went to Asheville where we picked more things for the house.

It was exhausting, and we had a few problems, but we did it.

Before leaving Lily had her last days of school where she participated in the talent show and gave her beloved Isaiah a goodbye hug. They’re hoping to Skype. Isaiah asked his parents if he could move to Asheville with us, but they said no. He was quite surprised.

Lily and Isaiah.

Cute couple!

Sweet Goodbye.

Lily and Charlie on the go.

Sovenir collecting with Lily.

Lily with her spear.

Lily stalking souvenirs.

Once we got to Atlanta, we stayed at Bruce Smith’s house, where we were the world’s worst guests, missing every agreed-upon get-together and generally being screwballs. Lily had a great time with Charlie, Bruce’s three and a half year old, and got a tremendous kick out of being the older kid.

The whole wedding thing started hilariously. We drove 15 hours to Atlanta, only to miss the first party we were supposed to attend. We showed up at the restaurant, dressed to the nines, wearing HATS (yes!), and were a day late.  I’m not surprised. We’re still struggling with getting details straight, though Sara is more likely than me to be right. Jeez. I felt like such a screw up, and the hats didn’t help!

Lily and Lisa, Hats.

We spent the rest of the week visiting friends, eating out, hanging with the Smiths. Lily enjoyed being around Bruce. Every few minutes she screamed, “Bruce! Bruce!,” and then asked him some unnecessary question or reported in on Charlie. She really just wanted to talk to a dad. (On the Hat Party day/Father’s Day she had just about the worst fit of sadness she’s had since George died. We couldn’t believe how upset she got since she’s been doing pretty well.)

Lily kissing Sara on Father's Day.

Sad Girl

Feeling Better.

She asked me if I thought she’d ever have another dad. “Not a real one, but one to hang out with… It wouldn’t be Daddy, but it would be a dad for now.” I know what she means, and the answer is “who knows?” After all that has happened I have stopped trying to predict the future. It’s just too tricky.

Come Friday in Atlanta we reported on time, and in the right place, for the rehearsal and dinner. Lily reveled in practicing her petal throwing and had a great time, but during dinner I discovered she had a high fever and took her back to Bruce’s to medicate her and force bed rest. That went over great!

Lily and the bride, rehearsal.

Lily, Gigi, Chiquita.

Lily practicing her walk.

Lily and me at the rehearsal.

Allan and Emily walk down the aisle at rehearsal.

She was so upset at the prospect of missing the wedding the following day she had another upset, but the next day when we woke up I felt her face and found it cool. So by nine AM we were at Allan’s house helping Emily with her hair and makeup.

Getting ready on wedding day.

We had fun getting ready and then got to the church by noon for pictures, etc. There was a gigantic wedding party of nine attendants on each side, plus Lily in the middle.

Checking out the reception hall.

Gigi and Chiquita watch the ceremony.

Right before the ceremony began I heard titters and whispers and turned to see Lily sneaking up the aisle in her wedding regalia, bringing me Gigi (stuffed hamster) and Chiquita (stuffed Chinchilla) so they could watch the wedding. She dropped them in my lap and ran back to the back just as the wedding began.

As it turned out, she didn’t get to throw the petals. There was some rule at the church that forbade it, so she gave out roses to women at the end of the pews. It was a great idea and actually better than the petals would have been as she murmured little things to each woman and managed to end up giving one to Sara and then one to the bride’s mother at the very end. She has a great sense of pageantry. Then she went up on the altar with the cast of thousands.

What really cracked me up was that she was so into the mass. We don’t go to church, and I’d say I’m spiritual but not religious. She loves pomp and circumstance and made a big point of kneeling for every prayer, crossing herself, and even went up for communion where she was denied the host but got blessed. She had a ball. At the end of the wedding the announced she is going to convert.

Hmm. You never know what’s next with Lily.

Lovely Emily.

Helping Emily with her Veil.

Lily with Flowers.

Dancing Queen.

She danced every dance at the wedding, requesting songs like “Dancing Queen” and “The Cha Cha Slide.” At some points she was on the dance floor with only one other person. “I’m not stage fright about dancing anymore,” she told me. (Still thinking that if she reaches her goal of being a rock star she should call the band “Stage Fright.” Great name suggestion, Lorna.)

Barb and Sara.

Lily and her pal Della.

Sara seemed to have a good time too. She looked great and managed to keep her four inch heels on all evening. As for me, I drifted between sad and happy, reflective and hopeful, just like most days. I’m not used to dressing up and felt a little awkward, and there was a totally hilarious conversation at our table with all the women talking about “Shape Wear,” which I refuse to delve into but others were sporting that very night. Can’t go to those lengths to look good. I will say the bride was beautiful, Lily was heartbreakingly lovely, and everyone at the wedding seemed to have a great, raucous time.

Once the wedding was over, Lily went back to her fever and fell completely apart the next day. So we packed up and moved on from the Smith home, stopping at a hotel to spend the night and visiting with Anne Boston, Valerie Schiedt and Clare Butler. We ate dinner together, caught up, and hung out. It was lovely.

Feast at "Nan."

Anne Richmond Boston at dinner.

Sara at the hotel.

Clare and Valerie at Nan.

Lily and Katie at Nan.

The next day we raced back to Asheville where we spent the rest of the week going from store to store with the designer choosing various things for the house. It was overwhelming, though at times fun. The house is going to be wonderful, I think. My excitement peaked at the lighting place for some reason, but it was downhill from there, with us leaving on Friday to race back to Reading for my older sister’s visit. Since then we’ve been tending to details and visiting with my family.

So, its been a long two weeks… and this is a long entry. I had lots of thoughts about the ten months since George’s death while I was traveling, and I’ve hit some high highs and some very low lows. Through it all I’ve thought once again how very, very lucky I am to have kind people in my life, interesting people, funny people, all of whom help us through the process of carrying on with our lives.  So many good things have come out of this horribly bad thing that has happened, and that is sometimes hard to accept.

I still talk to George every day, still find it hard to believe he’s gone, still wake up hoping it was a dream.

Maybe I always will.

George’s death has given me a heightened sense of the fleeting nature of happiness. I know I will spend time every day for the rest of my life loving him, missing his presence, feeling cheated by fate.

I’ve come to understand a loss so great is impossible to accept, except over a long span of time. It take bravery to face death, and not only from the dying.

So we go on with our lives, spending time with friends, attending events, and watching Lily grow.

I feel so lucky to be here.

I sometimes feel horribly guilty to be the one left behind.

And more than anything else, I miss George.

Roadside rescue zoo.

Taking a chance on getting eaten.

Chomp!

Kanga and Roo!

Sara the ringtailed Lemur.

Petting Zoo.

Driving Home.

Home again, Lily and Simon.

{ 3 comments }

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