Hi beautiful.
7 months today.
I miss you. I love you.
Sigh.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Rinoa!
Oh honeypie, I wish you had the chance to meet our latest family addition...
I'm proud and happy to share with you, the debut of our Rinoa!
Rinoa was born to my nephew Dave, and his partner Gemma. I'm so proud of the three of 'em.
Just wish you could join me here, baby, to celebrate this new little life.
I love you Rob. God, I miss you .
I'm proud and happy to share with you, the debut of our Rinoa!
Rinoa was born to my nephew Dave, and his partner Gemma. I'm so proud of the three of 'em.
Just wish you could join me here, baby, to celebrate this new little life.
I love you Rob. God, I miss you .
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Perhaps this is where the TRUE journey begins?
I just miss you so much, my Wombat. So much. I don't have the words.
********
Something I've intended to do since Rob died has been to visit each of these 50 states and scatter some of Rob's ashes, and help my Wombat rest, finally, with the wind, the ground and perhaps the ocean. This will be quite the journey, and indeed, quite the trial..... emotionally, physically and financially.
Because we had planned a life together filled with love, travel, frivolity and general "let us be twits together"-edness, I really want to help my Wombat see every state, every coast-line, every corner.
It's going to be beautiful, poignant and precious beyond words to have Rob accompany me on this journey to those four corners, and every state inbetween. Alaska and Hawaii included!
I've had some amazing and wonderful people offer to help Rob and I accomplish this, via YWBB. They - you - know how much I love and appreciate your presence and your kindness.
I simply can't wait for Mr and Mrs Wombat to meet our amazing new friends, and share a beautiful time of letting you and I, Rob, know that you'll be with me wherever I go in this great country, and help us all maybe give some sort of comfort to everyone else who has to go through this painful, heart-wrenching, soul-changing journey of grief.
Rob, I love you.
And dammit, we're going to make this happen.
Viva ASHES - A JOURNEY OF LOVE; the official, true and now beginning, version.
Always.
I love you.
********
Something I've intended to do since Rob died has been to visit each of these 50 states and scatter some of Rob's ashes, and help my Wombat rest, finally, with the wind, the ground and perhaps the ocean. This will be quite the journey, and indeed, quite the trial..... emotionally, physically and financially.
Because we had planned a life together filled with love, travel, frivolity and general "let us be twits together"-edness, I really want to help my Wombat see every state, every coast-line, every corner.
It's going to be beautiful, poignant and precious beyond words to have Rob accompany me on this journey to those four corners, and every state inbetween. Alaska and Hawaii included!
I've had some amazing and wonderful people offer to help Rob and I accomplish this, via YWBB. They - you - know how much I love and appreciate your presence and your kindness.
I simply can't wait for Mr and Mrs Wombat to meet our amazing new friends, and share a beautiful time of letting you and I, Rob, know that you'll be with me wherever I go in this great country, and help us all maybe give some sort of comfort to everyone else who has to go through this painful, heart-wrenching, soul-changing journey of grief.
Rob, I love you.
And dammit, we're going to make this happen.
Viva ASHES - A JOURNEY OF LOVE; the official, true and now beginning, version.
Always.
I love you.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
What they don't tell you
...is that grief is very, very physical. It hurts - not just psychologically, but physically, too.
...is that no matter how hard you try, you will never really be able to control where, and when, you burst into tears
...is that despite your wishing that you can fast forward 6 months in the hope of feeling better....that time will come, and it's still as painful and agonizing as the first day; and often, it's worse.
...is that when you're younger than say....60, people just don't know how to react when you tell them, "X died....."
...is that family members will often become demons fighting over what is, or isn't, left after your loved one dies.
...is that even when you're attending a group support session, you might (probably?) feel alienated simply because you're about 20 years younger than the average participant
...is that even your crying takes on a new property. It's a keening, wailing, child-like sobbing that won't quit, and dammit, the tears even make a sound when they fall, because they're so heavy.
And I don't even have my Mum around, despite me wanting just to crawl into her arms and sob.
Grief.
Sucks.
...is that no matter how hard you try, you will never really be able to control where, and when, you burst into tears
...is that despite your wishing that you can fast forward 6 months in the hope of feeling better....that time will come, and it's still as painful and agonizing as the first day; and often, it's worse.
...is that when you're younger than say....60, people just don't know how to react when you tell them, "X died....."
...is that family members will often become demons fighting over what is, or isn't, left after your loved one dies.
...is that even when you're attending a group support session, you might (probably?) feel alienated simply because you're about 20 years younger than the average participant
...is that even your crying takes on a new property. It's a keening, wailing, child-like sobbing that won't quit, and dammit, the tears even make a sound when they fall, because they're so heavy.
And I don't even have my Mum around, despite me wanting just to crawl into her arms and sob.
Grief.
Sucks.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Our little Luna
Just when you think you can move a few steps forward....something happens, and it sets you back a few thousand miles.
This might seem silly. Trivial, even. Perhaps it seems unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Still, it happened, and my heart is once more broken.
In 1999, my then-husband Greg and I adopted two little kittens. Luna Sea (lunacy - geddit?) and Silver Star.
Silver was her Daddy's girl. And Luna was, being smaller and the runt of the litter, a complete Mommy's girl. Not the brightest kitty on the planet, she would literally hold your hand while you were typing, and she'd offer the best cuddles and kitty kisses ever. She was my little goofball.
Today, Greg and Wendy had to put our Luna to sleep. This has hit me like a tonne of fucking bricks.
Gonna recap here, just a sec.
Rob - died 12/25/07
Brian (my stepfather) - died 3/29/08
Bob (Rob's Dad) - died 4/3/08
Mum - died 4/29/08
and now, our Luna.
I know, she was a kitty. And as such, we're not meant to grieve for our pets quite so much; yet that doesn't stop me from sobbing, and it doesn't stop me from wondering, "How much is one person expected to endure?!".
Rest in peace, my little Luna.
I'm just glad she had two Mommies - Wendy and I - and a Daddy who absolutely adored her.
Just wish I could stop crying.
Meh.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Here we are then.
This has probably been the most incredibly painful day of my life.
At least, in recent memory.
It's 6 months since you died, my beautiful Wombat. Six months since I last held you in my arms (funeral home notwithstanding). Six months since I last kissed your beautiful lips (ditto).
6 months.
At least, in recent memory.
It's 6 months since you died, my beautiful Wombat. Six months since I last held you in my arms (funeral home notwithstanding). Six months since I last kissed your beautiful lips (ditto).
6 months.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Really? Honestly? Truly? It's the sadness.
It's the sadness that gets to you.
I go through the day. I see people, I converse, I interact, I wince, I smile, I laugh, and still.... I cry. There's just this unshakable sadness that remains with you, even during the laughter.
It's laughter tinged with sadness, with bitterness, with anger. Please, someone, explain to me why Charles Manson is still alive, and Rob isn't alive anymore. Yes, yes, I realise there's no real answer to that question. It doesn't stop the question from being asked though.
I feel like Sharon Stone in "Alpha Dog".
(I'm very guilty of paraphrasing here)
"This is God's plan? Then God better get his ass down here and explain it to me....".
You know what? I felt for that character.
I utterly, painfully, horrifically, tragically understood what she meant. I go through every single emotion, every single day.
But still, it's just the sadness that really gets to you. It sits on your chest, a boulder of pain, unwilling to let go and relentless in its intensity. It threatens to crush your soul, your very vitality, every little thing you think you've kept intact.
It's just so fucking sad.
Still...I have hope. I really do think - more often than not - that I'll make it through this bloody awful journey.
I have to, you know?
I have to make it.
Look, go hug your dearest and nearest. Cherish today. There might not be a tomorrow.
I go through the day. I see people, I converse, I interact, I wince, I smile, I laugh, and still.... I cry. There's just this unshakable sadness that remains with you, even during the laughter.
It's laughter tinged with sadness, with bitterness, with anger. Please, someone, explain to me why Charles Manson is still alive, and Rob isn't alive anymore. Yes, yes, I realise there's no real answer to that question. It doesn't stop the question from being asked though.
I feel like Sharon Stone in "Alpha Dog".
(I'm very guilty of paraphrasing here)
"This is God's plan? Then God better get his ass down here and explain it to me....".
You know what? I felt for that character.
I utterly, painfully, horrifically, tragically understood what she meant. I go through every single emotion, every single day.
But still, it's just the sadness that really gets to you. It sits on your chest, a boulder of pain, unwilling to let go and relentless in its intensity. It threatens to crush your soul, your very vitality, every little thing you think you've kept intact.
It's just so fucking sad.
Still...I have hope. I really do think - more often than not - that I'll make it through this bloody awful journey.
I have to, you know?
I have to make it.
Look, go hug your dearest and nearest. Cherish today. There might not be a tomorrow.
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