What is it about this corner that has me constrained? Why do I sit in this damn corner? This corner that holds me hostage day in and
day out. It seems the only time I am not
in this corner is when I am at work or with Dwaine, and even when I am at work…I
am in my corner or wearing a mask of sorts.
As I sit in my corner I am forced to stare at the wall cross from me. The same wall I painted a Venetian red, but I never finished painting the trim…so the trim has various practice colors painted in different areas. You know, the light hits differently at different times of day so I painted swatches in different areas of this room, and never finished it. I started painting the trim several times but could not get the wherewithal to finish it due to mourning my husband, grieving my siblings, and now Jeff. Perhaps one of these day I will get it done. The TV sits in front of this red wall as does the fireplace…the fireplace that hasn’t been used in years. To the left of the red wall in front of me stands the cat tree Dwaine made for ‘Fritz.’ (I named Fritz after Jeff’s cat…but I really wanted to name him Doob.) Months ago when Dwaine first made this tree for Fritz I would pick up Fritz’s toys and put them on the top shelf of this tree. Now, his toys sit where he leaves them. There is a wall of windows to my left. The glass in the windows are separated by white PVS strips between two layers of glass, giving an appearance of individual panes within the window itself. There is a small end table between myself and the wall of windows, and a red chair sits in front of the windows. There at the far end of my couch sits my saxophone, unopened, unused. But I still take my lessons…if nothing else it gets me out of the house for an hour. I keep thinking at some point I will open it and will be good to go with all these lessons I am taking. Immediately in front of me is the square coffee table cluttered with stuff. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought this table would have been used as a catch all. To my right stands a rolled top desk…a desk which I am thankful has a top that closes because all my mail goes in this desk, most of which I have never opened, and don’t even care that it wasn’t opened. To the far side of that desk sits another chair. If you look closely you’ll be able to find not only minute strands of cobwebs (or as one of my friends calls them, ‘dust bunnies’), but also an inch of dust on top on everything.
It has been a year now that I have been sitting here in this corner. The maples from my corner view were in a state of late winter/early spring a year ago. They started with the tiniest of buds, and then grew the brightest of green leaves. The skies also changes during this past year. The spring rains came down, and changed the color of the foothills from browns to green and then back to browns as the hot sun during the summer months set in. And then with the fall came the changing colors along the foothill landscapes. With time the leaves turned to hues of yellows, then orange, and finally they slowly fell to the grown. Then came the snows of winter. Some days the snowflakes were so beautiful as they gently fell from the sky. And here I sit a year later watching as the maples again begin to bud.
As I sit, I stare out these windows…wondering why life itself has not stopped as my life has most definitely been stopped short. The cars on my road still come and go. At least five or more times a day people decide they are going in the wrong direction and choose my driveway to turn and go back the opposite way. People also use this busy road as a destination thoroughfare to ride their bikes, walk or jog to and fro. I watch as my little blond neighbor of eight wonders the street to and fro. She is reminiscent of a busy little bee flying from flower to flower. I can’t help but remember when Jeff was at this very age and how very busy his day was. I remember him playing all day long out in the snow during the winter and catching bugs during the summer. I wonder what happened to that little boy…why was he made to suffer as he got older. It seems the older he got, with each birthday he would come down with another disease. What the hell did he do that made God so damn angry at him?
I cannot tell you how many people have said to me, “God will only give you what he thinks you can handle.” OMG…they have obviously not suffered as we have suffered…or believe me….never would those words come out of their mouths. Who the hell is God to decide what we can or cannot handle. Who the hell is anyone who thinks they have the right to decide any such a thing. Think about the stupidity of this statement!
This is my view from this corner, this corner to which my ass is glued! Although I can easily see them, the people walking by cannot see me because the couch I sit on sits back from the window, and there is a partial wall behind me and the front door, so if anyone is at the door they cannot see me through the door. So…as I write this description of my corner…I realize this corner is not a place of comfort…it is a place for me to hide. I hide, I coward from all, I hide and I grieve in my corner, alone.
While sitting in my corner I cannot tell you how many times I have talked aloud to my son. What happened baby? Where are you baby? You were supposed to tell me you were ready…why didn’t you tell me you were ready? Over and over I have asked these questions aloud directly to Jeff. And I have also asked myself…Why I didn’t just call him that morning. The morning he died…why did I put off calling him and quite frankly…I am not sure I will ever forgive myself for not calling him that day. Hell, even if I did call him…I know deep down I would have been too late. There was nothing but turmoil at his house that morning, even if I had called I would have call right in the middle of the whole thing. You know…his son giving him mouth to mouth, trying to save him, while the rest of the family probably cried in the background waiting for the ambulance to show up. The paramedics, police, fire department, everybody working on trying to revive Jeff. If I had called that morning this is what I would have found on the other end of the phone. I think about this a lot…I cry about this all the time. Perhaps this is why my phone did not ring that morning. Perhaps that is why I did not call…did I know? Did I know in my heart my son would take this last breath that morning?
Don’t forget if you read the very first blog I posted you’ll remember…I knew he was going to die. I knew it all weekend…I knew he was dying. I cried all that weekend because I knew I was going to lose him. And still I didn’t call him. Is that why I didn’t call that morning. Was I afraid? Was I afraid of what I would find had I called him that morning? Think about this…Jeff’s kids had tried to call me several times throughout the morning he died. My phone was not ringing…it did not ring even though the ringer on my phone was not set to be silent…the ringer did not ring. As I am writing this blog I remembered this part of that morning. I just this very moment remembered that…my phone did not ring that morning. I had the phone in my hand all morning because I wanted to call him…but I never called him. I had the phone in my hand! I found out later that day that Jeff's children tried calling me several times that morning…my phone did not ring. It wasn't until I had everything ready for the meetings and after I mailed Seb's birthday card that I was just getting ready to dial Jeff’s number when it rang. I answered the phone, “Hi Baby,” thinking I was talking to Jeff. All morning I had the phone in my hand because I wanted to call him. The damn thing never rang. The kids called me two maybe three times that morning to tell me about Jeff and my phone didn’t ring. I thought it was Jeff on the other end of the phone when I answered, but it was Sebastian calling me to tell me his father, my Jeff had passed away.
I sit in my corner, unable to get up. When I do get up I go back as quickly as I can. I’ll get up to clean the kitchen or whatever…and only half-ass clean it…and quickly go back to my corner. I sit with my cat in my lap. When I cry Fritz will snuggle up to my neck. God gave my co-worker a beautiful new baby…he gave me a cat! As I write my story, my emotions…I cannot find the words to convey to you, I cannot find the words to truly explain my agony. What words can I use to fully describe this excruciating loneliness, this overwhelming heartache, this hollow feeling of despair I am experiencing? There are no words to fully explain the state of my emotions in complete detail. What words can I use to explain the reason I take harbor in this damn corner. What words can I use to fully explain how very much I miss my only biological child? The child I carried for months, the same child who I nurtured each day as he grew...the same child who carried me when I lost my husband…the same child I relied on for advise when I had important decisions to make…the same child who was my go-to-person for answers to the stupidest questions…the same child who called just to make me laugh…the same child who I leaned on day to day…the same child who became my best friend. How do I make you understand how very much I miss my son?
I sit in my corner…this corner which I have come to hate…I sit in this corner. I hide. I coward. I take refuge. I cry.
My roommate told me recently, “I feel you have deceived me. I thought you were doing better. You stopped talking to me about Jeff, so I thought you were doing better. And now I read your blogs and I feel bad because I feel you have been deceiving me. All this time I thought you were doing better.”
Isn’t it funny…I sit in my f’n corner day in and day out…and she thinks I am doing better. I no longer go for walks, I no longer go to the gym, and I am seriously thinking of quitting my volunteer work because I just cannot do it right now. I cannot seem to do anything right now. Hell I haven’t even sewed at all this entire year. I have not sewed this year. (Actually before my brother Michael died I called my clients and asked them to pick up their stuff because I did not have it in me to sew...I have sewn my entire life. Sewing is my life...was my life.) My roommate can clearly see my house is a sty, and she thought I was doing better. Her room is below my bedroom. I cry nearly every night, I talk to Jeff aloud. Can she not hear my cries? How many times has she come home to find me in tears?
She once said to me, “I am scared. I am scared one day I will come home and I will find you dead.”
How can she possibly feel that I have fooled her? She will not find me dead, because I am already dead. She will not find me dead...and yet, I am afraid to live. I am afraid to live because I do not want to endure this pain anymore…but she will not find me dead. I will survive this horrific ordeal. It scares the hell out of me…you know…what scares the hell out of me most...is the new me that will survive this horrific chapter of my life. That scares me. I already know from firsthand experience I have lost a piece of Olgie with each death…how much of the old Olgie, will be preserved after I have crossed this long dark passage? Although I still have lingering thoughts of suicide…she will not find me dead...she will not find me dead because you cannot kill that which has already died.
My phone does not ring…not my house phone nor my cell phone. If the phones do not ring…does that not mean no one is calling? No one. Not Jeff, not my friends, not my family, not anyone. I think people see/hear what they want. I think it is a safety mechanism for all of us. If we know too much about what is going on around us, we may not be able to handle it...so we choose not to see the truth. Life goes on…whether or not your own world has fallen apart life goes on. It is a fact! As I peek out my window, cars still whiz by, people come and go, my little neighbor is still moving about like a busy bee, meanwhile…
I sit in my corner. I hide from the world. I cry.
As I sit in my corner I am forced to stare at the wall cross from me. The same wall I painted a Venetian red, but I never finished painting the trim…so the trim has various practice colors painted in different areas. You know, the light hits differently at different times of day so I painted swatches in different areas of this room, and never finished it. I started painting the trim several times but could not get the wherewithal to finish it due to mourning my husband, grieving my siblings, and now Jeff. Perhaps one of these day I will get it done. The TV sits in front of this red wall as does the fireplace…the fireplace that hasn’t been used in years. To the left of the red wall in front of me stands the cat tree Dwaine made for ‘Fritz.’ (I named Fritz after Jeff’s cat…but I really wanted to name him Doob.) Months ago when Dwaine first made this tree for Fritz I would pick up Fritz’s toys and put them on the top shelf of this tree. Now, his toys sit where he leaves them. There is a wall of windows to my left. The glass in the windows are separated by white PVS strips between two layers of glass, giving an appearance of individual panes within the window itself. There is a small end table between myself and the wall of windows, and a red chair sits in front of the windows. There at the far end of my couch sits my saxophone, unopened, unused. But I still take my lessons…if nothing else it gets me out of the house for an hour. I keep thinking at some point I will open it and will be good to go with all these lessons I am taking. Immediately in front of me is the square coffee table cluttered with stuff. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought this table would have been used as a catch all. To my right stands a rolled top desk…a desk which I am thankful has a top that closes because all my mail goes in this desk, most of which I have never opened, and don’t even care that it wasn’t opened. To the far side of that desk sits another chair. If you look closely you’ll be able to find not only minute strands of cobwebs (or as one of my friends calls them, ‘dust bunnies’), but also an inch of dust on top on everything.
It has been a year now that I have been sitting here in this corner. The maples from my corner view were in a state of late winter/early spring a year ago. They started with the tiniest of buds, and then grew the brightest of green leaves. The skies also changes during this past year. The spring rains came down, and changed the color of the foothills from browns to green and then back to browns as the hot sun during the summer months set in. And then with the fall came the changing colors along the foothill landscapes. With time the leaves turned to hues of yellows, then orange, and finally they slowly fell to the grown. Then came the snows of winter. Some days the snowflakes were so beautiful as they gently fell from the sky. And here I sit a year later watching as the maples again begin to bud.
As I sit, I stare out these windows…wondering why life itself has not stopped as my life has most definitely been stopped short. The cars on my road still come and go. At least five or more times a day people decide they are going in the wrong direction and choose my driveway to turn and go back the opposite way. People also use this busy road as a destination thoroughfare to ride their bikes, walk or jog to and fro. I watch as my little blond neighbor of eight wonders the street to and fro. She is reminiscent of a busy little bee flying from flower to flower. I can’t help but remember when Jeff was at this very age and how very busy his day was. I remember him playing all day long out in the snow during the winter and catching bugs during the summer. I wonder what happened to that little boy…why was he made to suffer as he got older. It seems the older he got, with each birthday he would come down with another disease. What the hell did he do that made God so damn angry at him?
I cannot tell you how many people have said to me, “God will only give you what he thinks you can handle.” OMG…they have obviously not suffered as we have suffered…or believe me….never would those words come out of their mouths. Who the hell is God to decide what we can or cannot handle. Who the hell is anyone who thinks they have the right to decide any such a thing. Think about the stupidity of this statement!
This is my view from this corner, this corner to which my ass is glued! Although I can easily see them, the people walking by cannot see me because the couch I sit on sits back from the window, and there is a partial wall behind me and the front door, so if anyone is at the door they cannot see me through the door. So…as I write this description of my corner…I realize this corner is not a place of comfort…it is a place for me to hide. I hide, I coward from all, I hide and I grieve in my corner, alone.
While sitting in my corner I cannot tell you how many times I have talked aloud to my son. What happened baby? Where are you baby? You were supposed to tell me you were ready…why didn’t you tell me you were ready? Over and over I have asked these questions aloud directly to Jeff. And I have also asked myself…Why I didn’t just call him that morning. The morning he died…why did I put off calling him and quite frankly…I am not sure I will ever forgive myself for not calling him that day. Hell, even if I did call him…I know deep down I would have been too late. There was nothing but turmoil at his house that morning, even if I had called I would have call right in the middle of the whole thing. You know…his son giving him mouth to mouth, trying to save him, while the rest of the family probably cried in the background waiting for the ambulance to show up. The paramedics, police, fire department, everybody working on trying to revive Jeff. If I had called that morning this is what I would have found on the other end of the phone. I think about this a lot…I cry about this all the time. Perhaps this is why my phone did not ring that morning. Perhaps that is why I did not call…did I know? Did I know in my heart my son would take this last breath that morning?
Don’t forget if you read the very first blog I posted you’ll remember…I knew he was going to die. I knew it all weekend…I knew he was dying. I cried all that weekend because I knew I was going to lose him. And still I didn’t call him. Is that why I didn’t call that morning. Was I afraid? Was I afraid of what I would find had I called him that morning? Think about this…Jeff’s kids had tried to call me several times throughout the morning he died. My phone was not ringing…it did not ring even though the ringer on my phone was not set to be silent…the ringer did not ring. As I am writing this blog I remembered this part of that morning. I just this very moment remembered that…my phone did not ring that morning. I had the phone in my hand all morning because I wanted to call him…but I never called him. I had the phone in my hand! I found out later that day that Jeff's children tried calling me several times that morning…my phone did not ring. It wasn't until I had everything ready for the meetings and after I mailed Seb's birthday card that I was just getting ready to dial Jeff’s number when it rang. I answered the phone, “Hi Baby,” thinking I was talking to Jeff. All morning I had the phone in my hand because I wanted to call him. The damn thing never rang. The kids called me two maybe three times that morning to tell me about Jeff and my phone didn’t ring. I thought it was Jeff on the other end of the phone when I answered, but it was Sebastian calling me to tell me his father, my Jeff had passed away.
I sit in my corner, unable to get up. When I do get up I go back as quickly as I can. I’ll get up to clean the kitchen or whatever…and only half-ass clean it…and quickly go back to my corner. I sit with my cat in my lap. When I cry Fritz will snuggle up to my neck. God gave my co-worker a beautiful new baby…he gave me a cat! As I write my story, my emotions…I cannot find the words to convey to you, I cannot find the words to truly explain my agony. What words can I use to fully describe this excruciating loneliness, this overwhelming heartache, this hollow feeling of despair I am experiencing? There are no words to fully explain the state of my emotions in complete detail. What words can I use to explain the reason I take harbor in this damn corner. What words can I use to fully explain how very much I miss my only biological child? The child I carried for months, the same child who I nurtured each day as he grew...the same child who carried me when I lost my husband…the same child I relied on for advise when I had important decisions to make…the same child who was my go-to-person for answers to the stupidest questions…the same child who called just to make me laugh…the same child who I leaned on day to day…the same child who became my best friend. How do I make you understand how very much I miss my son?
I sit in my corner…this corner which I have come to hate…I sit in this corner. I hide. I coward. I take refuge. I cry.
My roommate told me recently, “I feel you have deceived me. I thought you were doing better. You stopped talking to me about Jeff, so I thought you were doing better. And now I read your blogs and I feel bad because I feel you have been deceiving me. All this time I thought you were doing better.”
Isn’t it funny…I sit in my f’n corner day in and day out…and she thinks I am doing better. I no longer go for walks, I no longer go to the gym, and I am seriously thinking of quitting my volunteer work because I just cannot do it right now. I cannot seem to do anything right now. Hell I haven’t even sewed at all this entire year. I have not sewed this year. (Actually before my brother Michael died I called my clients and asked them to pick up their stuff because I did not have it in me to sew...I have sewn my entire life. Sewing is my life...was my life.) My roommate can clearly see my house is a sty, and she thought I was doing better. Her room is below my bedroom. I cry nearly every night, I talk to Jeff aloud. Can she not hear my cries? How many times has she come home to find me in tears?
She once said to me, “I am scared. I am scared one day I will come home and I will find you dead.”
How can she possibly feel that I have fooled her? She will not find me dead, because I am already dead. She will not find me dead...and yet, I am afraid to live. I am afraid to live because I do not want to endure this pain anymore…but she will not find me dead. I will survive this horrific ordeal. It scares the hell out of me…you know…what scares the hell out of me most...is the new me that will survive this horrific chapter of my life. That scares me. I already know from firsthand experience I have lost a piece of Olgie with each death…how much of the old Olgie, will be preserved after I have crossed this long dark passage? Although I still have lingering thoughts of suicide…she will not find me dead...she will not find me dead because you cannot kill that which has already died.
My phone does not ring…not my house phone nor my cell phone. If the phones do not ring…does that not mean no one is calling? No one. Not Jeff, not my friends, not my family, not anyone. I think people see/hear what they want. I think it is a safety mechanism for all of us. If we know too much about what is going on around us, we may not be able to handle it...so we choose not to see the truth. Life goes on…whether or not your own world has fallen apart life goes on. It is a fact! As I peek out my window, cars still whiz by, people come and go, my little neighbor is still moving about like a busy bee, meanwhile…
I sit in my corner. I hide from the world. I cry.
Hi Doobie,
How I wish I
could remember the words you used to get me out of that corner the last time
around. How I wish I could talk to you
and you could answer. How I wish you
would at least talk to me in my dreams.
How I wish you were still here by my side. How I wish…it is a shame wishes do not come
true. At least not in my lifetime. None of the wishes I have had over the years,
do not now, nor have they ever come true.
Why is that Baby? Why is I that I
continually walk around with this dark cloud over my head? Why is it that God has never listened to my
prayers? Why is it that my family has
abandoned me? Is it me honey? I go through life and I really try to help
others…you know other people who need help.
Aren’t I the person they come to when they need help? Isn’t it I who has always been there to help
other people? Where is everyone…now that
I need support…where is everyone? Where are you baby, I need you here with me. I need to be surrounded by your strength.
~Mom
Life and death are part of living. We ALL have or will loose people we care for. Very few will have the deep soulful connection with blood family that you do. We that do not, cannot fully appreciate your particular experience......
ReplyDeleteYou are right we will all lose people in our lives. Fact is the older we become the more funerals we will be attending. That is a fact...and yes it is a very real part of life...but the death of a child is altogether different from losing a spouse or a sibling...this is especially the death of a grown child.
Delete