Coinkydink of the Highest Order

The WEIRDEST thing happened today. I had a doctor's appointment (to see about getting my cyst removed--that'll be Jan. 5) and was running late. I just couldn't get my A in G. I finally got on the road when I realized I didn't have the fax of my test results that I would probably need. I remembered distinctly telling myself not to take them into the house when I'd gotten out of the care the night before. What had I done with them?! I drove back home and found them in a bag I'd taken inside. So I got on my way again. By the time I got there, I was about half an hour late. As I was going into the building, I passed someone and knew I recognized her from somewhere. We both did a double-take and turned back. We shook hands and said hi. I asked what she was doing there--the cancer center, after all. She said she'd just gotten a mammogram and asked about me. I said I had a cyst that needed to come out. She said, "Oh, good," to which I replied, "Well, it will be once it comes out!" Then we said goodbye and moved on. It took me another half a minute at least to get my mind around who it had been: KH, the wife of the son of the aunt who I'm taking to court over the house! So in other words, a sort of arch-enemy if you look at things in a black and white way. The Powers that Be made that meeting fall into place this morning. I just wonder why. I may never even know...

PS--Just so you know, I had genetic testing done. I'm negative for the BRCA 2 mutation for certian. I have to find out about the BRCA 1. I'm going to have my right ovary removed and while I'm still asleep they'll look at it to see if it's malignant. If not, they'll just close me up. If so, they'll take everything else out. Get this: if you only have one ovary, it eventually takes over as if there were two, so you have regular periods. I'd've thought you'd only have one every other month! Darn! Oh, I'll be so glad to get this thing out! It's a bit like having a toothache where my appendix used to be. I think I insulted the doc. He was kind of bragging about this robot, the DaVinci something or other, that he'll be using, but I didn't know what he was talking about! He seemed a bit put out ;-) I asked him if he'd be able to see if there was some endometriosis going on since my hip seems so affected by this cyst and I knew that not having any children put you at higher risk for endometriosis. He said yes, he'd be able to see that. Then he said that not having children also put you at higher risk for ovarian cancer. I said, yeah, that sucks doesn't? And he agreed, yeah, it did. He seems to have a sense of humor and I'm glad about that. He didn't have to agree quite so readily, though, that he might as well take my ovary since I probably wouldn't be needing it at my age!

Dreaming Helpful Nonsense

I had the strangest dream the other morning. I was in the kitchen with Gina, my sister who died, and Mary. I wanted to bake something and Mary wanted to help. She was sitting in her wheelchair in front of the sink and grabbed hold of the edge of the sink to pull herself up. I helped her sit back down saying, "Mary, honey, you're 98 years old! You can't do things like you used to be able to." I thought, " Wow! I forgot how hard this was!" Then at some point I was holding her, sort of like a baby, and I noticed one of her toes. It had a very healthy--looking nail growing back but the top part was missing and I remembered that the doctor had removed the toenail--just a part of the dream. The sign of this healthy toenail growing back made me think that Mary was healthy and I said to Gina, "I guess God decided to give Mary back to me!" Gina answered, "Yeah! It looks like he did!" Then I woke up.

I know this dream is complete nonsense, but I feel oddly comforted by it. I have felt so abandoned by Mary. When Eddie died, I could still feel his presence--maybe because he lived so far away that his death didn't seem real. When Gina died, I dreamt about her so often, that she seemed to still be with me. But I haven't dreamt much about Mary and since she was with me all the time, I feel her absence quite acutely.

Someone told me once that they think when you dream about someone who's dead, they're visiting you. So I was equally blessed to be visited by Gina and Mary at the same time!

My Heart Still Aches...

I still miss Mary so much! In fact, I tear up all the time. I'm starting to wonder if something's wrong with me. Should I have kept taking that OCD medicine? Am I abnormal? I cry for so many different reasons anymore. Maybe that's just part of getting older. I cried buckets when I saw a video called "Dancing Wedding." I cry when I hear about something bad on the radio. When I see upsetting pictures in the paper. When I think about Mary. I realized today that her medminder is still on her dresser--with pills in it. I haven't gone through her things. I can't bear the thought of giving her underwear to anyone. Isn't that crazy?

I met a cousin today and gave her the hand-painted china Mary had from this cousin's grandmother. I felt guilty because many of the things had Mary's name painted on them. What happens when there's nothing else left to prove a person's existence? Well, prior existence?

The dogs are out in the car and won't come in, and this is making me cry. I hit my head the other day and that made me cry.

I'm tired of working for my brother and sister-in-law. It's not getting me anywhere. I'm tired of doing cakes. That's not getting me anywhere, either. Where do I want to go? Won't any job be boring? All I can imagine is teaching (and I can tell you a thousand reasons why I don't want to do that) or being a librarian (and the boringness of that prospect scares me stiff). And what if I can't find a job doing either here in Louisville?! I've been neglecting Mom.

I feel scared a paralyzed and tired and lonely and in pain--sometimes literally from my cyst or feet. At least I'm not having migraines like I used to. But I just want the past back. I want it back now! It was there and everything was going along and then, boom, it was gone, all gone. I felt her slip between my fingers and then she was gone. I want her back. I want things to be like they used to be. That was my life. This is not my life. This life makes no sense. How can the meaning of my life have become synonymous with Mary? She was my rock and now I have no foundation. It's like Nikki said--Mary was the dock that I had anchored my boat to. I do things. I mean, hell, winning seven ribbons at the fair is doing something! But nothing has any meaning if it's not shared with this woman who didn't even know who I was sometimes! Does that make any sense? Humans find over and over again that it's never worth doing something for ourselves. We were meant to be part of a pair, at least.

I don't want this loneliness! I used to tell Mary when she was lonely when I'd be gone to school or something that maybe loneliness was really the devil tricking us, because if we really believed in God, we'd know that we're never truly alone. But when I think about that my heart aches for her having felt lonely. My heart aches so much for Mary. Why didn't I spend more time with her? I was in the kitchen too much! I didn't talk to her enough. I left her alone so much...

I guess I'll go see if the dogs want to come inside. Maybe if I take them for a walk, I'll feel better. (But I know I won't really.) Well, I've got two cakes to decorate for tomorrow, so I'll just have to get over all of this anyway...

Home

For Mary's funeral I downloaded some songs that I felt were particularly representative of her and my memory of her. One of these was Love's Old Sweet Song. The version I liked best was by Deanna Durbin. Mom always raved about her, so I downloaded a complete album from her--there was also a beautiful version of the Ave Maria, which Mary loved, on that album. I listened to this often in the first couple of months and it occurred to me that there were two songs on the album about home, which was such a constant theme for Mary toward the end of her life. I can't help but think that Mary, or some guardian angel, led me to those songs. I'll put the lyrics below.

Oh, this is a funny thing--in the song Beneath the Lights of Home there's a line that I heard wrong. The actual line is: Turn the hands of time for me. I thought she was singing: Send the hounds of time for me, which I personally think is much more poetic! In looking for the lyrics, I found that others have often misheard this line. According to the following link http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mondegreen, many people have thought she was singing: Tell the Huns it's time for me! Apparently, this mishearing of a lyric is called a Mondegreen!

Home Sweet Home

'Mid pleasures and palaces
Though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble,
There's no place like home.
A charm from the skies
Seems to hallow us there,
Which seek thro' the world,
Is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet sweet home,
There's no place like home,
There's no place like home.

I gaze on the moon
As I tread the drear wild,
And feel that my mother
Now thinks of her child;
As she looks on that moon
From our own cottage door,
Thro' the woodbine whose fragrance
Shall cheer me no more.
Home, home, sweet sweet home,
There's no place like home,
There's no place like home.

An exile from home,
Splendor dazzles in vain,
Oh, give me my lowly
Thatched cottage again;
The birds singing gaily,
That came at my call:
Give me them and that
Peace of mind, dearer than all.
Home, home, sweet sweet home,
There's no place like home,
There's no place like home.

Beneath the Light of Home

I can see the lights of home
Shining brightly o'er the foam;
Beckon to me while I roam
Away from the lights of home.

In that little old sleepy town
Nothing happens after the sun goes down;
Noting but moonbeams roam around
Beneath the lights of home.

Turn the hands of time for me,
Let me live in my memory.
Once again I long to be
Beneath the lights of home.

Lawsuit Update

• A's deposition was taken today, so my lawyer grilled her (very nicely) for 1 1/2 hours. Luckily they agreed to not have Mike present.
  
• A contradicted herself quit a bit, and I think she got frustrated when my lawyer seemed to be asking the same question again, for clarification.
• Interestingly enough, A said she had never seen the deed to the house which supposedly had her signature on it. She said it didn't look like her signature and she didn't remember signing it.
• My lawyer was pleased that she agreed that I had taken wonderful care of Mary and done everything for her.
• A agreed that Mary thought of me as a daughter.
• A said that she had known that Mary was leaving her the house in her will of 2002 and had not known anything about the will of 2005 and that in her opinion, Mary was not of sound mind enough to change her will in 2005, that I had coerced her and that in her opinion the will was invalid. She said that both I and Mom knew that Mary was not of sound mind in 2005. That will be very interesting if they have to prove that in court!
• My lawyer said that he'd be in contact with me in about 2 months, unless A's lawyer asks to deposition me before then. He said that he felt better about the case after A's deposition but that a lawsuit is always a crap-shoot. He told me to consider whether I'd be willing to give the matter over to a mediator and settle out of court so as to maintain some control instead of completely being at the mercy of the jury's decision and to consider how much I'd be willing to pay A to drop her claim on the house. Personally, I'm not inclined to settle. Perhaps I'm just being stubborn, but I'd rather not give A the satisfaction of my appearing to say that she was right. I never asked Mary for her house or her money or tried to influence her in any way to leave anything to me, I didn't bring a lawyer in to have her make a new will, and Mary knew exactly what she was doing when she made her last will. I was not even in the house when she signed it.

I Love to Be Loved

I was just listening to a CD by Peter Gabriel, and when I heard this song, it suddenly hit me, well, I guess I've had inklings, why I find it so hard to let go of Mary. She made me feel so loved. I guess that's why we all have problems letting go of our babies and pets.

Love to Be Loved

So, you know how people are
When it's all gone much too far
The way their minds are made
Still, there's something you should know
That I could not let show
That fear of letting go

And in this moment, I need to be needed
With this darkness all around me, I like to be liked
In this emptiness and fear, I want to be wanted
'Cause I love to be loved
I love to be loved [x2]
Yes, I love to be loved

I cry the way that babies cry
The way they can't deny
The way they feel
Words, they climb all over you
'Til they uncover you
From where you hide

And in this moment, I need to be needed
When my self-esteem is sinking, I like to be liked
In this emptiness and fear,
I want to be wanted
'Cause I love to be loved
I love to be loved [x2]
Oh I love to be loved

This old familiar craving
I've been here before, this way of behaving
Don't know who the hell I'm saving anymore
Let it pass let it go let it leave
From the deepest place I grieve
This time I believe

And I let go [x2]
I can let go of it
Though it takes all the strength in me
And all the world can see
I'm losing such a central part of me
I can let go of it
You know I mean it
You know that I mean it
I recognize how much I've lost
But I cannot face the cost
'Cause I love to be loved

Yes I love to be loved
I love to be loved
[x3]

I love to be loved

I love to be loved
Yes I love to be loved

Rationalizing and Other Survival Tactics

How do people make it to old age? How did people get through the Holocaust or Hiroshima? Emotionally, I mean. Do you get used to your loved ones dying? I remember Mary's reactions to Rita's death (short physical break-down) and Angie's (started to cry but then tucked it away and never let it out again). How did she deal with Bill's death? Did she ever think she'd marry someone else about eight years later?

Oh, I know grief is such a fickle thing. It varies depending on who died and under what circumstances and how close you were to them... and I guess your own mental and emotional state. But it's so hard to really understand what emotional pain feels like until you've experienced it--and even then, it's hard to bring that feeling back to your emotional consciousness. Too dangerous, I suppose. A survival tactic. I mean, we can say, "Oh, I know how you feel," but at that moment we don't really feel that pain again. We know. It's an intellectual thing. Even when people say, "I feel your pain," or "I really feel for you," they may not really be feeling it. Maybe if someone said, "My heart just aches for so-and-so," they might actually be feeling some sort of discomfort in the chest area. Of course, I'm really just talking about myself. I can't speak for others, really.

I don't even know why I'm carrying on about this. Well, I mean, I do know. I'm trying to work things out. Why do I feel so much more pain in connection to Mary's death than to Gina's? I mean, Gina was like my mother growing up. But Mary was my baby. I lived with Mary. Every time I get in the shower, I have a hundred memories flooding into my head. Every time I fold the towels or put away the silverware... when I'm driving along in the car and her absence from the seat next to me is as much like a physical presence as her living body had been. But why was I so better able to deal with the death of my sister who was only two days away from being 42, the age I'll be turning this summer? Why do I still have tears not only spring to my eyes so often when I start thinking about Mary, but they come in torrents with all of those sobbing sounds you associate with, with... real and immediate and unbearable pain? How can I miss Mary so much?

A part of my brain that's somehow not participating in the emotional business pipes up and says, "Well, you're probably not just grieving for Mary. It's for all the people you've lost. All the chances and hopes and, well, everything you've ever lost. You're just grieving. And you've probably got some self-pity mixed in there along with fear. It's all very natural." So I say, "Thank you, Dr. K," but I'm a bit miffed that this emotional reaction I'm experiencing can so easily be rationalized away. I prefer the other response that I get from people like JA or S in Germany, "Healing takes time! You're in the middle of a process--you took care of her night and day! You've lost your purpose in life! Of course, you're still upset!" When I was visiting my friend in KC, MO, recently, it seemed like every other sentence out of my mouth had the name "Mary" in it, and she was so understanding. (She also understood my desire to stay near Mom now since her own parents are the same age. But that's a whole nuther kettle of fish...)

I haven't gone through Mary 's clothes. I just can't bear it. I took something out the other day. Oh, it was a pajama top. The cloth is like a flannel-y jersey, so I'd put it away in the closet for her to wear in the summer, but I'd kept the bottoms in her pajama drawer. I'd come home early from a concert (my brother G and his wife P bought the tickets and took me with them--Chris Issac--very enjoyable evening), and I felt like putting on some pajamas so I'd feel more relaxed. I don't wear pajamas, so that's why I had to pilfer some from Mary. When I took the top out of the closet, I smelled her. Isn't it funny how we each have our own smell? Perhaps there's some man-made smell mixed in (aftershave or perfume or laundry detergent), but people still have their own smell. One of my brothers and his family always smelled like hamster chips to me. You know, those wood shavings you put in hamster cages.

It was such a shock to me, that I could still smell Mary, even though she'd been buried about three months earlier. I think the sense of smell is more visceral than that of sight or even touch (probably because we tune out the latter so very much--survival tactic). It was a real shock. When I saw her hair in the hairbrush, I'd already experienced that with Gina, so I was sort of prepared for that physical evidence of her existence. But it was like Mary's ghost stepped out of the closet.

Well, while I was standing there, I realized that there were some gowns hanging there that I'd never even liked putting on her (sometimes things got dirty so fast, I needed a large number of easily washable items just to have something to put on her), so I quickly took them out, along with the pajama top I'd wanted, and put them in a bag to give to the Goodwill. The rest, I cannot deal with. I tell myself that I need time. Surely I will know when the right time has come to be able to do something with her clothes. Am I just being a baby? Doesn't matter. No one else needs the space.

But I got another shock when I was waiting for my laptop to restart the other night and glanced over at the side table. It slowly dawned on my that I was looking at a baggie of Andes mints I'd given her to nibble on. How long ago had that been? My initial reaction was to grab the bag and toss it in the waste basket, but I left it there. Don't touch it. Don't deal with it at all. Then I saw her Pretty Birdie Baby lying in her Silver Swan dish next to the mints. I picked it up and turned it on. "She'd pretty much forgotten you, hadn't she?" I mentally ask it. It chirps and moves its head back and forth. I find myself saying out loud, "Talk! Talk!" just like Mary did. Should I give this to Mom? She loves birds. But, no, she wouldn't appreciate it like I do. She's think it was just a thing. But it's more than that for me. Just like Mary's wheelchair is much more than a wheelchair for me. And that's really silly, isn't it? I mean, Mary only had that wheelchair for about the last six years of her life. That's 92 years without it--longer than most people even live!

I guess I've nattered on enough. Just an update on my big "after Mary" plans--S in NZ has asked me to stay 2 months! That means I'll probably be traveling for 4-5 months. That's a long time to be away and leave my dogs and cat, much less Mom and the innumerable doctors' appointments she could have in that time-span. Is it the right thing to do? And as if that's not a crazy enough prospect, I've got this other idea in my head. What I'd really like to do before I die: go to Paris and do the Patisserie Diploma at the Cordon Bleu. It's basically the same tuition price as here. And I'd be getting language training! It's always irked me that I never mastered French, considering it was my first foreign language and that I have a BA in it. There's a part of me that feels a real desire to do something... daring or adventurous. A lot of people would consider traveling around the world for 4 or 5 months to be adventurous, I'm sure, but I'm looking for something else. A part of me wants to do this thing that seems slightly insane and would require a fair amount of courage so that afterwards, I can say, "I did it!" and smile to myself and know that no one can take that away from me. Oh, I should know better. I should know that I'll look back and say, "I can't believe that was really me." But, you know, there's also this really, really odd thought coming to me so often that I can't deny it. I want to be an enabler. I want to enable people in my family (or friends) to come to Paris because I'm there. Maybe I'm just trying to justify my own plans, but it would please me to no end if by my doing this thing, I made it possible for other people to do something equally wild for them. Does that make any sense? The program lasts about eight months, by the way--long enough but not too long. Well, I don't have to decide about it tomorrow.

Really Home Alone

This is the first night I've spent alone in the house. Jo is in Cincinnati. She and Devin are walking a mini-marathon tomorrow.

I keep thinking about Mary and how it must have been for her before I moved in, how lonely she must have been. I wonder a lot about what it was like for her when she was having all those problems with Uncle Harry and then after he died... I don't know if this makes any sense, but my heart aches for her. Isn' that crazy? She's not even alive anymore and yet I feel pain for her for the times in her life when she felt pain. Why didn't I care more then? I know, I was a teenager, but I remember hearing the stories and Dad and Mom talking to her on the phone, but it wasn't my problem. Well, I guess it didn't damage her too much because she always said she had had three good husbands. I think she must have blocked it out, all the trouble she had with Harry. (He was a very quiet man when they got married and then at some point she discovered that he had a chemical imbalance. He quit taking his medicine and was never right again till he died. He tried to strangle Mary at one point, but she always said she wasn't afraid of him. I think he eventually checked himself into a Little Sisters of the Poor home and died there.

I'm dreading May 4. That will be one month. I can't stand the thought. Saturday nights are hard, too. I hate them! I can't get that last evening, the last 15 minutes, out of my head. It pains me so. I'm sure the dogs think I'm crazy.

I have the whole day free tomorrow. I thought about going for a walk with the Kentuckiana Single Hikers and Walkers, but I'm not ready. I need more time alone. There's so much to do around here! I still have papers to sort, tax info to get together, my to do list to rewrite, flowers and seeds to plant, my friend Susanne in Germany to call, and spring cleaning to start (before summer gets here). I've been going to G&P's shop to help out like it's my job! I'd better watch it or I'm going to find myself employed there. I haven't been taking any time to deal with things here. I've been spending a lot of time at Mom's, too.

Oh, I heard from the lawyer. He's still writing up the... I don't know what he called it--the grievance??? He wanted to read it to me and said he'd mail it yesterday or today, which he hasn't, of course. He wants me to write up a summary of my involvement with Mary so that he can see our history and the responsibilities I accumulated. That will take some thinking, but it will be good for me.

I'm tired and I've got a headache from my Mint Julep. I may be crazy (my word for the day, apparently), but I think I can feel this tumor on my right ovary. It bothers me a lot in the mornings. I take Tylenol extra strength and that usually helps it go away. It might turn out to be bad and then it will be a blessing that I don't have to take care of Mary and deal with it, too. I worried about the possibility of my getting ovarian cancer like Gina had and then not being able to take care of her. I worried so much! I guess it never helped me much, so you'd think I'd quit doing it. I need to make myself a big poster: Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy. (Wouldn't you know that Leo Buscaglia said that?)

Oh, on a positive note, my personal hygiene has improved since I don't have Mary to tend to. I've taken more showers in the past month than I had in the last few months before that. I remember so many problems I had... and they seem so... unreal. In the blink of an eye they disappeared. In the blink of an eye everything changed.

Realizations

I'd been having these "realization moments" the past year or year and a half or so when I would know that something had changed forever. I remember when I knew that I'd given Mary her last shower. There was the moment when I knew she wouldn't be wearing regular panties anymore. It was a relief and yet also a sad time when I realized that I wasn't going to take Mary into the bathroom anymore but only use the potty chair. These changes always had a ripple effect on our routine. I liked to find the best way to do something and then stick with it, so I didn't have to rethink things repeatedly. So I'd find myself thinking, "OK, this is the way we're going to do this now." Those were moments when I knew that we'd entered a new phase of some sort.

Now I'm having these "realization moments" about my new phase in life. These moments all have one thing in common, though--they're all realizations that Mary won't be doing, seeing, eating, experiencing something with me anymore. The first banana I ate, sitting on the swing, the new penuche frosting recipe I tried, the flowers I'm planting in the yard... It was a relief to be able to cut the grass when I wanted and not have to stop every half hour or so, but I just kept remembering her sitting up there on the porch and how I'd wave to her and she'd be so tickled to be out there seeing everything.

I wasn't sure if I should get flowers for the back yard. I've been getting them for so long... but they were always for Mary. I knew I should spend the money. But I did it for Mary. I can look at them and know she'd love them.

I was working in the kitchen this evening when I heard the latch on the gate rattle. I let Rudi out but he didn't bark and then just came back in. I heard the rattle a bit later, like someone wanted to come in, so I went out to look. There was Max, the huge chocolate lab from then next street over. I'd taken him in a few times and even called the pound twice because his owner wasn't home and he was just too big for our house. I had something in the oven, so when Jo came home, I took him over and, luckily, they were home. I think they keep him in the backyard and didn't know he's gotten out. It was so weird to realize that if I hadn't had something in the oven, I could have taken him over. I can run to the store if I need something. I can take the dogs for a walk whenever I want...

Speaking of dogs, Bella didn't want to come home! She stayed at Mom's! This is the second time that she didn't want to come with me. I have to admit that my feelings are hurt. Am I going to lose my dog? Rudi still seems like Mary's dog.

I still haven't heard anything from Anna or Mike about the house. That's so strange. Well, they probably expect me to go to them since I'm executrix, but my lawyer said I didn't have to, and I think he'd rather I didn't talk to them because I'm liable to say something I shouldn't. It just seems like they'd say something to me since my lawyer has talked to them and they know that this is now their house. I haven't heard anything from the lawyer, either, but he was supposed to file the suit on Monday.

Oh, on a completely different note--I talked to a friend in Wuppertal, where I used to live in Germany. I got onto Skype and told him about it, so that's how he called me. That meant I didn't get to go over to G&P to work since we talked for almost an hour, but that's alright--especially as it was free! He said there's a position open at Inlingua, where I used to work. I just laughed but I should have asked him how much it paid! I asked him if there was still dog poop everywhere and if the druggies still hung out around the train station and he said it was all worse than ever! No, seriously, I can't imagine living there again. As I told him, I left because there was nothing keeping me there. I never got into a serious relationship, you know? I mean, friends are great, but they're not necessarily a reason to stay someplace.

I keep hearing this odd sound--like my alarm clock beeping. I don't hear it all the time but quite often. It's very annoying. I guess it's tinnitus and must mean I'm not getting enough blood flow to my brain.

Speaking of blood flow, I came closer today than I ever have to participating in a charity walk! I chickened out in the end, though. Saving $20 was a big incentive! There's a group I'd be interested in joining. It's called Kentuckiana Singles Walkers and Hikers. They walk ca. 8 miles every Sunday. It just seems weird, though, to belong to a group that you'd have to leave if you weren't single anymore. I guess they mean single as opposed to married, but maybe they mean as opposed to dating! Odd, odd. Oh, I'd also thought about founding a Stammtisch (German conversation group) since I can't find one here, especially if I have to stay put for the next six to nine months. It's hard to learn to go out again. I was supposed to go out with this woman I met through another friend. We were both going to work on knitting/crocheting projects, but she was running late and then had to cancel. I'm just relieved to be able to stay home--just like with the charity walk. Mm, mm, mm. I've got to get a life...outside this house, that is.

Life Going On, Basically

Now that I seem to not be breaking down crying all the time when I'm alone and can actually turn the TV or radio on, I'm starting to feel guilty for not missing Mary more. I mean, I do miss her terribly, but... My life is going on. That seems so natural on one hand and so impossible on the other. Sometimes I just think that I feel like I've gotten out a bit and that when I get back home, she'll be there. I even feel a bit...what is that feeling? Antsy? Guilty? Nervous? It was a feeling I used to have because I knew I only had a certain amount of time and I had to get back home. Other times I feel like I'm swimming in time. Mostly it's nice to be able to do things and not have to constantly check that she's alright or have her repeatedly wanting to help. That's hard to admit. I feel bad for writing it. Oh, now I'm going to get all teary eyed because I do miss her!

I still haven't really made myself a meal like I would have done for us. I eat this or that and scrounge around. I made a cake for G&P (I need to earn some money!), but it was a spice cake with caramel icing, so I didn't have to decorate it. I remember feeling like I'd never want to decorate anymore cakes, like I'd never want to do anything else again.

I had to mow the lawn, though! Mary wouldn't have liked my letting it get so high. I just ordered a new battery. I guess the ones I had lasted for pretty long. It's certainly a lot faster mowing the lawn now. I remember how I'd get Mary all together and put her out on the front porch. I'd have to have something to put her legs up (so her ankles and feet wouldn't get swollen) and something to drink and maybe the newspaper... By the time I got that all set up, I was worn out! Then she kept saying, "I wish we had a boy..." and I'd say, "I do, too! A young, good-looking one!" I don't know if she ever got my joke. Toward the end I think she didn't get a lot of my jokes. Like I'd always say I had to wipe her because we didn't want any doody in the poody and that I didn't want her doing the itchy bucket dance.

Did I mention that I'm thinking about doing a Professional Baker's Diploma from a local school? I need to find out how much it will cost. It's 9 months. Just to do something for myself. Sometimes I think that's all I've ever done and that I'm the most spoiled person in the world.

I'm thinking about going to a dance-camp this weekend. It's for contra dancing, which is kind of like square dancing but sort of like line-dancing. I kind of want to and kind of don't. I'd have to go by myself, which is the best way to meet people. It would cost about $50. I really should spend the money. The weather is supposed to be great. I think I should go. Mom wants me to go.

I started reading a book that I got from my sister Gina before she died. It's called Letting Go of Shame. I never really thought about negative self-thoughts/feelings as being shame, per se. I guess we could all be carrying around a lot of shame.

Well, there's lots to do round here, so I guess I should go do some of it. I've got to bake a Kirschwaehe for Mom, make some Waldorf Salad with a bunch of apples she gave me and make some lentil salad with some cilantro she gave me. I need to do all that spring cleaning stuff, balance the check book, make a to do list related to Mary (esp. changing utilities over to my name), organize paperwork from the last couple of years, write thank you notes to people for their support over the last few weeks, call some people who have called me and some other stuff.

Grieving

I think I'm going to quit taking the dogs for a walk--it's so painful to come back. No, I'm just joking. I know it's very good for all of us, even if it is painful.

That's two evenings in a row I've just sat here and bawled my eyes out till I couldn't breathe through my nose anymore. Then I tell myself that's enough. And go get a glass of wine. But this is the last of that delicious wine, so I'll either have to move on to something else or just move on. I miss her so, so, so much! Now I'm going to start crying again. The dogs and cat just look at me like they can't figure out what my problem is. I miss all those little things. I want her here again so much that it just hurts so bad. It's like someone is stabbing me in the chest with something very large and heavy. How did Mary survive losing three husbands? How upset she must have been after Bill died. She was nine years older than me and went on to marry two more men. She never sat around and bawled about people dying. Of course, I didn't let her. I tried to comfort her and keep her spirits up. But I don't have anyone here to do that for me. I don't want anyone here to do that. I mean, Mom is so unemotional. And I just don't feel like sitting around bawling with Bonnie or JoAnn. I don't have a best friend. Mary was my best friend, my bosom-buddy.

When I was out cutting the grass, a young man next door (at the Cubans') asked if I wanted some help. I told him no, that my aunt had died and I had a lot of time now and it was good for me to have something to do. I know he didn't understand exactly. I mean, he knew someone had died. He asked if it was the fat one! Oh, my! I guess he never saw Mary. I didn't recognize him, but they have so many people coming and going. While I was cutting the grass, I also saw my next door neighbor Inga, but I didn't go up to her and tell her that Mary had died. I put the black bows on the doors and I feel like that ought to let people know. They're not exactly very apparent, but they're there. Inga and her husband (whose name I can not remember for the life of me) are strange people, not exactly friendly. Maybe they think I'm the unfriendly one. It's just a strange neighborhood. Maybe I should be happy that I don't get the house and just let it go. I mean, this house is not me; it's not the sort of house I would buy. I can't tell you why. I mean, I've never even considered buying a house, so I really don't know what I'm talking about. I'm just talking, just to feel like I'm talking to someone.

Maybe I should call Mom. She's probably watching TV. I feel like I should be able to handle this, do it alone. I'm so lonely. I always was. And now I am again. I'm so scared. I'm so scared of being alone and being depressed. I'm scared of that yawning black hole that threatens to swallow you up and make life a living hell. I'm scared of not having enough money. I'm scared of working at a job I hate and feeling like my life is of no consequence. I'm scared of something happening to the dogs or cat. I'm scared of not having enough money. I'm scared of being alone. These thoughts just keep going round and round in my head and heart.

There was someone cutting down a tree down the road from us and when I woke up this morning, I thought it was Mary snoring. I felt so relieved, like I'd had a bad dream but everything was OK when I woke up. When I went to sleep, I thought, "I'll just pretend she's in there asleep. If I pretend, it feels like it's true."

How can I carry on here for six months, not knowing if I'm going to get this house, not knowing what's going to happen to me? How can I make my life meaningful during that time? By the time the litigation is over, it will be fall and that's a horrible time to travel. How can I think things like that only a few seconds after shedding tears because I miss Mary? I feel like an emotionally unstable teenager again. I feel emotionally unstable. I wonder what I've done with my life and why I did it. I was constantly struggling to have more energy, get more done, take better care of Mary...and now suddenly it's all moot. Null and void. That's how I feel. Why is going to the grocery so difficult? I bought bananas today and that was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made in my life!

I'm afraid to turn on the TV. It's so normal and my life is not normal anymore. It all goes on like nothing has changed. I don't want to have any part of that.

I need to fold clothes but can't bring myself to do it.

I hate this house! It's so full of memories! I'm so tired of feeling like an intruder here! Why am I seemingly destined to not have a home? I've been homeless since I went to Cincinnati when I was 21. Why did Mary have to leave me now?

Did I waste Mary's money?

The House

I went to probate court with the lawyer this morning. I just had to raise my right hand and swear that I would be a good executrix of the will and then sign something. They gave me a piece of paper saying that they'd probated the will. This is what I will need for the bank and other accounts, I believe.

The lawyer had talked to Anna, who said she preferred if he talked to Mike, who said that they had no intention of giving me the house as Mary had desired because it was Anna's inheritance. Shame on them! Shame, shame! How can she go to church and feel like a good Christian?! Well, the lawyer will contend that Mary didn't take Anna to court because she knew it would have been too much for her at the age of 95 and had hoped that Anna would do the right thing, i.e., what she had requested. They will try to make me look greedy and like I was influencing Mary to change her will and that she didn't really know what she was doing. I will try to make Anna look greedy and like she renigged on her agreement with Mary, which she did, so I have no problem with that. I need to talk to some other people to see if anyone else ever heard Anna or Mary say that Anna said she would move in and take care of Mary. I told the lawyer that Mom would probably not be a good witness to call, that she would get easily confused. One minute she says one thing and then the next swears to the opposite. I don't know why she does that, but it's clear that she would not help our case. I know she's upset that I will be dividing the family, but I feel that it's Anna who chose to divide the family by trying to take advantage of Mary and then not letting Mary have her house back. And what family is there to divide? We never have anything to do with them anyway. My family is behind me and that's all that matters to me.

Now, I must, absolutely must, get changed and get outside to do some yard work. It will take several days to cut the grass because it's so high and rained recently. I'll have to recharge the batteries several times.

Oh, the lawyer said it will probably take six months to settle the suit. Anna can't make me move out during the litigation but if I lose, she can charge me rent (an amount decided upon by the judge) for the time I was staying in the house after Mary died. At this moment, I'm here illegally. Can you imagine how that feels to me? I can't begin to put it into words. The place I have lived in for over eight years, where I tended to Mary as well as took care of the yard and repairs, is now an illegal place for me to be staying. I need to call and have the locks changed in case they get any ideas about the things in the hosue being theirs. The lawyer said I should call an insurance company and take out insurance on everything in the house in case something should happen (fire, tornado, etc).

Bake-Therapy

I've gotten control of myself for the most part.

I put the gel cushion that was on Mary's bed in the corner of her room where her bed used to be. Mom seemed a bit unsure of my having only rented the hospital bed instead of buying it, but it wasn't a very nice bed and I knew I would never think of it as Mary's bed, really, and that I wouldn't want it around after she was gone. The bed I sleep on was Mary's bed when I first moved in. Anyway, I put sheets and an afghan I'd crocheted for Mary on the gel cushion, so it looks like a sort of bed. I meant it to look sort of homey and inviting, but it just looks kind of sad. I'd like to put my meditation cushion in there, but 1) the kitty litter box is in there and it smells sometimes (Mary could never smell it.) and 2) I feel so distressed when I'm in there, I'm not sure I could do much meditating.

I decided to forgo folding the clothes that Jo has been washing all week. There are too many things from Mary in there. Things she just wore recently. I almost lost it when I had to put the clothes that she wore to the hospital away in her room. I'd intended for her to wear them home. So I decided to make another angel food cake. This will be the third one in the last week, I think. I had a lot of egg whites left from the yellow cakes I've been making recently. The only thing is that I don't have enough granulated sugar. I took my last bag to Mom's since I was using up all of her flour and stuff. I think I'll try a brown sugar angel food cake recipe. Not that I feel much like baking, but it's a distraction. I'm also working on a bottle of red wine that my sister-in-law Jan left at Mom's house. That's probably not a good idea. The last thing I need is a migraine tomorrow during probate court. What do you wear to probate court? I guess I should look into that before I go to bed.

It's after 10 PM and Jo should be home soon. I'd kind of like to be in bed. I just don't feel like talking to anyone or sitting in the living room--without Mary there.

Home Alone

I'm back home, well, at Mary's house, whatever it is, for the first time tonight. Mom seemed really sad for me to leave, but I can't stay there forever. I knew it would be hard, but I just don't know if I can do this. I mean, I have to, and I know it will get better, but it is so, so, so painful. I took the dogs for a walk and the whole time all I could think about was that Mary wouldn't be there waiting when we got back.

I started to put things away that I'd brought back from Mom's--I've got my work cut out for me what with using up apples and cherries and things she had before they go bad. I went to put some papers that were on the counter away and one of them was this picture they took of Mary when we took her into the ER. It was so cute--she looked like such a little bird in her blue toboggan and sun glasses. Oh, my God, that picture almost killed me! It just made it seem so impossible that she's gone. It was just like yesterday when we took her into the hospital and even though she was having some pain, she was in good spirits and so perky and just so Mary! I so miss making her a cup of coffee and all the sweet things she would say. I even thought about putting Heidi on and sitting in the kitchen so I could imagine that she was watching it! But looking at the house as we approached and knowing she wasn't sitting in there waiting... I always used to say to the dogs, "Come on! Let's go home to Mary!" when we were coming toward the house. Everything is so painful! And I just keep seeing that moment when I knew something strange was happening in the hospital. When I knew it wasn't a normal fit or attack. Everything went downhill from there so fast and I couldn't stop it! She was there and then she was so far gone and then she was all gone... It's all just egotistical, really. If she died, it was because her body didn't function properly at some point. But if only I had done something, something else different... she would still be here with me. We had it so good together. I just want another summer... Just another month, why couldn't I have that?! I just feel so alone without her. Nothing seems to make sense or have any value. Everything was for her. Her little compliments and comments. I even miss her moaning! Why didn't I tape it? Why did she have to leave me now? I just want her back!

Catching Up on Things

I was over at the house today and got some bills paid, stuff shredded and a little cleaning up done. Things that seemed so difficult now seem easier. Why is that? There was so much resistance in me to pay bills and now it seems easier. I think it's that I don't feel distracted. Maybe it's also because I'm getting more sleep and can concentrate better. Reading my blog back from the beginning, it really hit me how steep a decline in energy I had upon taking care of Mary full-time. I think that was a direct result of a loss of sleep. But there is certainly something to be said for knowing you won't have to have half of your mind somewhere else the whole while you're doing something, never knowing when you'll suddenly have to drop what you're doing.

Not that I'm complaining. I'd give anything to have Mary back in a heartbeat. She was my security blanket, in a way. Even though she was forgetting so much, she was still that same serene, easily-pleased person. How I loved to sit on the arm of her lazy boy and put my arm around her, maybe read to her. She loved to have a little story read to her before she went to bed. And of course we'd have to make room for Rudi--he never could stand to have someone else next to her. When I'd crawl into bed next to her, he'd be right there! She'd tell me to kick him out, but there was no way I could do that.

Anyway, I finally called the insurance company because I couldn't find any recent info about her car insurance. Sure enough, I had let it slide and it was canceled at the end of September, 2008! I've been driving the Cadillac without insurance! The thing was that I switched my car insurance over to her company just before that and then got confused because I knew I was paying auto insurance but didn't realize it was just on one car, not two. What a mess! Well, they put the Cadillac on my policy with my Ford, so I will just get one bill for auto insurance and then the other bill for the homeowner's insurance.

I also called to cancel the cable service. They charged almost $10 just to cancel! Crazy! Now I have to get an antenna for the TV and hook up the converter box, which I had luckily already gotten. It will be strange not to have cable! But I don't expect to be watching much TV anyway. I never had one when I lived alone. Plus, watching TV alone depresses me. The TV reminds me so much of Mary.

I called for them to come take the hospital bed away. Every time I went into Mary's bedroom, I started crying. It was so full of her, I guess. Well, really, almost every time I'm alone, I start crying. I was trying to explain to Mom that it's not just that I'll remember something but also that it's like trying to see if I still feel the pain, if the wound is still there, maybe because I feel guilty for not crying all the time. Maybe it's more like putting your weight on a sore foot to see if it's healed yet.

Well, I'm making hot cross buns for one of my brothers, so I'd better go check on them. Oh, I got a beautiful card from the librarians today. That was so thoughtful! When I took the dogs for a walk this evening, I went in for about 30 seconds to tell them thanks. (The library's just down the road from my mom's house.)

I noticed that when I go over to the house, I feel very possessive of it! I clean up any little messes (very little) that Jo has left. I feel like I must leave it pristine in memory of Mary. I also feel so horribly guilty for all of my little messes (mostly piles) as well as the dirt (say, on the base boards). Mary must have hated that so much and I could have made her life better by not being so messy!

And So It Goes On...

I thought everything was finished and would be very cut and dried, but when I visited the lawyer on Friday to set up a time to go to probate court (since I am executrix of the will), he encouraged me to file a suit against Anna to get the house. He said that he has handled similar cases and thinks I have a very, very good chance of winning. His point is that Anna always said she would move in with Mary and take care of her, which must have been why Mary put Anna on the deed to the house. Anna never fulfilled this "contract." I, however, did move in and take care of Mary and she even expressed to Anna that she wanted to remove Anna from the deed for the purpose of giving the house to me, thereby making a new "contract" with me, so Anna really has no right to the house--mainly because she never fulfilled her agreement with Mary. If only Mary had been willing to do this when she was alive... but she was afraid Anna would never talk to her again. She shouldn't have cared since Anna very rarely ever talked to her again and 99.99% of the time it was through my urging Mary to call her.

So I will have to pay the lawyer about $3,000 to handle the will. Then I will have to pay him about $8,000 to file the suit. If we win, he said he would take 25% of the value of the house. That seems like a lot. I can understand his thinking that I'll be the 75% richer but... oh, my. I think I'll talk to George, my (no longer Mary's) financial adviser. It may be that Anna wants to have 1/3 of the value of the house, in which case we would not file suit. It may be that she doesn't want to pay to go to court over the issue and so agrees to a settlement of some sort. Or it may be that she wins. But I feel that I should fight because Mary asked her to take her name off the deed and she should have done it then. It's like when the administration at St X High School would say that it wasn't really my decision to give a boy a detention--it was his decision to do the action that required me to give it to him. Anna acted unfairly and this is the appropriate response. Mary hated anyone telling her what to do with her business and I'm going to fight for her. They led her around by the nose and I'm going to say, "No more." This is for Mary.

Fred wants me to call a friend of his who is a lawyer because this man said that my lawyer can't file this suit, that it would be a conflict of interest for him because he was a witness to the will. I never understood how he could be a witness and just trusted him that he could. Was I an idiot then? Oh, how I hate these issues that make your stomach flop and turn inside out! It seems to me that he is simply continuing to represent Mary's interests. Well, my niece said she would check with her lawyer, so I hope she lets me know soon what he says. I'm just glad that my family supports me. I don't want to be thought of as greedy. But I do want to fight for what Mary wanted.

On a completely different note, I now have more time for Mom. I can take her in to the dentist, which is all the way downtown, and go to her doctor's appointments with her--until I start the next phase in my life. I'll also be doing a bit of work for my brother Gus--the one I always did cakes for, and I can still make cakes and earn a bit of money from him. I feel absolutely broke even though I now actually have some money. That doesn't make any sense, I know. I guess it's hard to shake the thoughts and feelings of not having any money. I always said I would travel for a year. I have friends in New Zealand, Germany, Norway, and here in the US to visit as well as family. I've never visited my niece in Maryland or my cousins in Washington State or Wisconsin. Once I start working, I won't be able to do that so easily, so now is really the best time. Then I'll get on with my new life...

Endings and Beginnings

Mary passed away Saturday night. A pain shoots through my stomach as I type those words and my eyes fill with tears. I have never been so thoroughly grief-stricken as I am now. I miss her so much! What I would give to have her back. I think of little moments and just can't believe they are gone and can be no more. I just think, no, no, no...this just can't be. I want my Mary back! I feel like someone has taken part of me away, as if they have physically stripped me of part of myself. I don't feel her here with me at all and I'm so, so, so very afraid of forgetting her! Isn't that insane? I've written a blog and have so many pictures and little videos of her...how could I forget her?! She was my purpose in life, though. I feel so lost, so directionless. I even keep getting this little feeling in my stomach that I should get home, as if she's there waiting for me. I've been staying at Mom's, but others will be coming into town, so I'll need to go back to the house after tomorrow night, I guess. But I don't want to be there alone with Jo. Isn't that weird? It's just that it's so not right. In the sense of what the reality should be, not any moral sense or anything. It's like it doesn't compute. I'm so glad I have the dogs! Isn't that crazy? But they're such a bit of normalcy for me. And something to love and lavish affection on.

I don't think I can write about what happened. I've talked about it, but to see the words in front of me...I don't think I could bear it. I still feel her body, though. I didn't want to let go of it. Isn't this just so purely selfish? I'm being such a baby. I'm not thinking of Mary at all. She didn't want to go. She didn't expect it. I didn't either. I hope she didn't realize what was happening to her. Oh, how I hope that! That really hurts to imagine that she did. No, I can't believe she really did. I think it happened so fast that if the idea had occurred to her, she wouldn't have had time to pursue it. I just want her back so badly. I could write that over and over. Fill a notebook and I'd still feel it so intensely. She was my A and O. Do they say that in English?

And I'm so bewildered by what is to come. It doesn't seem real. I can't see it at all. I can't see myself living somewhere else, having a job, living some strange and lonely life without my Mary. Yet I see, too, how many people care for me. I have gotten so much support. My life with Mary has not been isolated and, knowing myself, it will not be isolated in the future, but I feel the impact of loneliness and the knowledge that I am now fully alone hits me like a weight on my chest and a blast of air that knocks my breath out of me, like when I was a child and fell off the bunk bed and had the air knocked out of my lungs. I have to tell myself, "Breath in. Breath out," over and over again. I open the door a bit and the fear starts to ooze in before I push it quickly closed again with the force of my whole weight against it. I'm so afraid of this fear. I've felt physically dizzy and nauseated the last few days. I laugh but feel the tears behind my eyes all the while. I can't eat anything but bread and drink only tea. I feel hunger but have no appetite. I want my Mary back! I must have never really believed she would leave me. Stupid, huh?

So now begins Life without Auntie Mary. But will my life ever be without her? Hasn't she become some integral part of me? I have her, I have her--but I still want her back! I know, get over it. But I dont' want to. The pain of not having her seems so unbearable. I feel like I'm two people now. How can I explain that? It's so bizarre. It was like a marriage, you know? Where they say, "Two become as one." I always sort of thought that was a sexual reference, but now I completely understand. That's why I feel like a part of me has been physically stripped away.

But life must go on, mustn't it? Mary lost three husbands and still went on. She didn't seem to waste much time grieving. She got on with life. She didn't wallow in sorrow. I'll clean the house. It's time for spring cleaning. And this will be for Mary. I have a lot of paperwork to get in order. I feel like an animal that will be shedding its skin or transforming into something else. The episode of my life taking care of Mary seemed such a gradual transformation, but this one is preceded by a crack. There will be gradual changes but there was the gut-, mind-, and heart-wrenching break with the past first. Who will I become now? What direction will my compass settle on? What form will this new existence, this new creature take?

I'm tired. So, so tired. I was tired before and so was Mary. Her body was more tired than she knew, I think. I'm tired out from grief. Thank God for that! Thank God that crying wears a person out. It's as good as hot milk. I'm reading through this blog and contemplating things for maybe the last time, such as who was Mary, really? What is the essence of a person? So I'll stop now in preparation for going on soon.

Heart, Toes, and Sore Behinds! Oh, My!

This evening Mary had the worst case of chest pain I think she's ever had without me taking her to the hospital. I can give her 3 nitroglycerin spaced 5 minutes apart but then we're supposed to head the the ER. I tell her that after the third one and ask, with this in light, how bad is it really. She never wants to go to the hospital, of course. But I think if it were really, really bad, she'd let me know. Sometimes it does seem to go away and then come back--usually an hour later--and that can happen several times, but this time it was more like 15-20 minutes apart. One thing I've learned is that she gets hot and if I fan her and cool her down, she seems to get better, but that didn't work as well tonight as usual.

I often feel guilty because all I really want to do is go to sleep. This started happening around 8 or 8:30 and was over with around 9:30. I could tell she was going to go to sleep, and I was so glad because for some odd reason, I couldn't hold my eyes open. I turned out all the lights and laid down on the couch and did go straight to sleep, but here it is 11 o'clock and I'm wide awake. I thought for sure it was 1 or 2 in the morning. I was really hoping to turn over a new leaf because I've gotten so that I stay up pretty regularly till 2:30 or even 3:15 and then I can't wake up in the morning.

Darn! The light from my computer screen seems to be waking her up!

She still has a sore on her toe. Which reminds me that I didn't change the bandage this evening. That means there will be hell to pay tomorrow because it will be more difficult to remove. I actually have a patch of Medi-Honey that I'm using--I got it at the Wound Care Center, oops, Wound Healing Center. It's odd, two weeks ago, they seemed to think everything looked relatively OK, but this time the doctor was pushing for her to have the toe removed. They started telling me that she had a staff infection in the wound. I protested that I was told there was no infection. Then they saw that someone else's test results had been placed in her file! How slipshod! Well, I'm taking her for an MRI on Saturday. This was supposed to be my weekend off. So much for that. But this needs to be taken care of. They will be able to see if there is an infection in the bone, I think. The toe is slightly swollen, so they're pretty sure there is an infection in there. She refuses point-blank to have her toe removed, but it is very painful for her. I just don't know what to do. I can't force her. But if the infection spreads and she has to have part of her leg removed, I won't be able to take care of her. It's no wonder I can't sleep!

To make matters worse, she keeps getting little bouts of diarrhea and then her bucket, I mean behind, gets sore. She won't let me wipe it, which just makes matters worse. I have some sort of moisture blocking salve from days gone by that I rub on there (eeewww). Who knows if it helps. I'm going to look for anusol wipes at the store tomorrow or maybe ask the pharmasist. Lovely sort of question!

Well, she's into the moaning now. Maybe I'll try to move to the couch behind her with my computer...