January 11 - grieving
When barbie called me last night, I had to drop everything and go. It brought back memories of when my sister died when I was a little girl, my first and last (before this most recent) death in my life. When she died, my parents dealt with their loss in the way they felt best, they destroyed, burned, gave away, most of her belongings, and packed away out of view only a few small things. It was if she was there one day, and completely disappeared the next. I couldn't bear the thought of having that happen again, that all those things associated with memories and experiences would simply get lost into the garbage, into second hand stores, into oblivion, without some connection to people who understood their history, their importance.
I knew the state of his apartment, I had been there before. Papers, bottles, boxes and boxes of books, odds and ends everywhere, not a lot of clear floor space. And among all those things that people would see as trash, among wine bottles and cockroaches, things of various value all stored in assorted garbage bags, never knowing whether a bag would hold garbage or treasures, that there were things he had wanted kept private, things we knew that he wouldn't have wanted his family to know, things he had often talked of destroying or giving away, that needed to be taken care of.
barbie had communicated with the police around us accessing his home, and belongings, and essentially their reply was given the circumstances, of her relationship with him, her having keys, her having some belongings there, and his limited family involvement, that it would be fine to go in and do what we felt needed to be done, that unless their was some kind of complaint from next of kin, there would be no difficulties. So away we went.
It still felt odd, to be there, handling his things, but I felt him, heard him, every moment we were there, and knew, we were doing the right thing. So there through the night, I think we accomplished one of the most important things, and that was some sense of closure, of processing the experience, that he was truly physically gone, and not coming home again. Now I have a few more mementos of him with me, things that may not have any monetary value, but will have life long meaning to me.
One of those things is a list he wrote for me when we he took us on a trip to his hometown. He had spontaneously made a list about why life was hopeless and all was lost, that this was the worst case scenario, and what he felt to be true, and I begged him to then do the opposite, as an act of healing, and write a list of the best case scenario, the best of what he could hope for. He resisted at first, insisting there was no hope, no best case scenario, and then pleading with my eyes, he finally took the paper and pen from me, and started writing. I have that paper with me still, and I'll keep it forever. I would like to share with you, some of his own words. The words of very wise and very loving man. The last part after his list of hopes and dreams, was in many ways written a lot for me and my depression and feeling suicidal, but also for others to, it went as follows :
"... my friends learn from my experience that above all love life never ever try a suicide - promise me that that you will go on and no matter what kind of materialistic or career or relationships hassles confront you you will get up in the morning and look at beauty and light and thank God for it and with just that faith you can go forward with gratitude rather than despair and celebrate your life - hope my experience and your observation of it will be enough to encourage you to never abandon joy for despair".
There's so much more I could share, about my experiences through the night, through the last couple of days, or even over the year, but I there are things I should keep private as well, and I have to find some place to draw that line.
As always, thanks for listening. I'll be back another time, with some of that joy to share, and less despair, like sharing the events of our first evening of puppy kindergarten, which happened last night, but I knew I should go, and seeing all those loving little beasts at play, helped shine light back into my world. Little joys, my sweet little Iggy pup, and that Ethan won survivor, there's nothing to silly, too small, too insignificant, to take pleasure in. I don't want to feel guilty for taking joy where I can. Life's too short. Enjoy it, treasure it, even the crazy little details.
XO
Kattclix here to vote for my journal please
Recommended this week :
Erotic photography that comes with a manifesto. Beautiful, intense, passionate work, that brings together socio-political explorations of eroticism through images. This site is a feast not only for the eyes, but also for the mind. I haven't explored it completely yet, but so far I've loved everything I've laid eyes on. Don't miss out on this one. Erotic, exotic, evocative, this site makes me want to explore and challenge my creative urges.
Come on.... just a little something, money for tea?
for Christmas dinner? for toilet paper? for shaving cream?for a puppy?for oranges? for tampons? for paper? for Mr. Noodle? hooked on phonics lessons? for anti-depressants? For puppy food?For puppy kindergarten? For bankruptcy fees?for neutering costs?