Just yesterday evening, I grabbed the camera to capture the vivid yellow of the forsythia hit by the bright, just-before-sunset light.
And what did I wake up to this morning?
All that and a high wind warning until 7 pm, to boot.
If you’re thinking, “Claudia is not a happy camper” you’re right. She is not.
I’m going outside soon to get the heavy, wet snow off my plants. More of this crap is expected tomorrow, with temps in the thirties for the next three days.
• We watched the NCAA tournament last night. While we were in Florida, my brother-in-law asked us to join in a friendly bracket tournament that occurs every year among his family members. Meredith is doing better than the rest of us, but I did pick Villanova, so I’m grinning a bit this morning. Don picked Oklahoma. I need say no more.
• I spent several hours researching the pronunciation of certain Russian names and much to my dismay, I kept hearing something different each time I visited a new site. My next door neighbor is Russian, so I think I’m going to have to ask her to verify some things. I finally gave in, turned off the computer, and went to the grocery store (again) to stock up on some food.
• Grief: While on the way to the grocery store, I drove past our local animal hospital (I drive by it every time I head out of our little town.) This time, however, I was struck by the memory of Scout’s last hours and I lost it. I remembered Don carrying her out to the car where she stayed on the back seat without moving, I remembered sitting in the car while Don made sure they were ready for us, petting her and telling her I loved her and that soon she would be out of pain.
As I drove down the road, tears rolling down my face, it was as if it had just happened. I asked her to visit me, to let me know she is okay. I keep hoping she will. Then, when I came home and unloaded the groceries, I started to tell Don what had happened and I couldn’t stop sobbing. I cried for the loss of my mother, my father, and Scout. I often replay those last hours in the hospital with my father, hear his voice, the sound of his breath changing as I watched him leave us.
I do the same thing with Scout’s last hours. It’s as if those two profound and heartbreaking experiences within three months of each other cycle in an endless loop in my brain. It’s such a lonely feeling, this loss of both my parents and my beloved little girl. Crying is cathartic, I know, and I’m glad I let go yesterday, though I was absolutely drained when it ended.
The truth is, it’s almost impossible for me to find enthusiasm for much of anything these days, though I have bursts of it at times. I play at enthusiasm, I act ‘as if’ – but grief takes a hold and doesn’t let go for a long time. It really never lets go, it just changes and morphs as one learns to move forward.
I miss talking to my mom. I miss talking to my dad. I miss talking to my little girl.
One day, right before we left for Florida, I was struck by something. I had a way of talking to my pets, not really a ‘baby’ voice, but definitely a different kind of voice where I used funny, made-up words and sounds and lots of nicknames, singing little songs that I made up on the spot. In that moment, I worried that I might forget what I said to Scout in our countless interactions during the day, every day, for sixteen years. So I grabbed my phone and recorded them.
I don’t want to forget them, you see. It was our own little language. She put up with it, of course; she indulged me. For that I am very grateful.
Ah, well.
• First bunny sighting: an adorable little bunny dining on grass right outside the kitchen window.
I wonder if we’ll have baby groundhogs again this year?
The winner of a copy of Beneath Still Waters is Maureen. Maureen, I’ve sent you an email. Please send me your mailing address and congratulations!
Happy Sunday.
Happy Sunday, Claudia, still crying with you each time I think about your loss. From one sensitive woman to another.
Thank you, Patricia.
Sorry for the snow you had, the weather doesn’t seem to know when it needs to “winter” nor “spring” anymore! I believe in the power of words and that writing about your grief and your feelings, remembering what happened will help you understand with time and ease the pain… The green grass must be delicious for the little bunny! I think this Sunday I will treat myself with some chocolate as well, I can only recommend to do the same :) Hugs, Susi
Thank you, Susi. I am absolutely sure I’ll indulge in a bit of chocolate!
It sure does take forever to get past the death of a loved one. I was at a basketball game a year after my mom died and looked around and couldn’t believe all of the color that was out there. I think I just could’t recognize it or it didn’t register or something until I was ready. I think you can get through the day but part of you just shuts down. They say it’s a process……a rough one I think.
It’s always interesting to see what your plants are doing. Ours are still sleeping.
Love you,
Eileen
Love you, too. I just ran out and tried to get the snow and ice off the plants. Not sure what this crappy weather will do to them!
Snow????????????
Claudia, you have got to be kidding! Hope this is the last cold snap and that spring will arrive pronto for your garden.
We are on the road in Destin with spring/summer clothes, and the temp has dropped enough that I now need a jacket. Guess I will have to go out and buy something. Who knew! :-/
On a different note, be on the lookout for your little happy. It is winging its way to you and will hopefully bring you some cheer. Will shut up now before I tell you what it is, LOL
Looking forward to hearing what your neighbor says about the Russian names.
Stay warm!
xo
Sheila
April is the cruelest month…courtesy T. S. Eliot. He was right!
I love Elliot, but that quote is new to me, Claudia. I guess I never thought of April that way as I grew up in a warm climate. In terms of rain storms, we get that pretty much monthly.
For us, August can be a cruel month, actually brutal, whereas April is the last reprieve before the heat and humidity make it uncomfortable to be outside between ten and four. In other words, all day.
I keep thinking I need to move to Canada in the summer!
That snow was not welcome. I hope it doesn’t hurt your plants too much. I understand your grief. We are both in the same place with grief and the way it just keeps running through our minds. Tears are very cathartic. I have some photos that I took of Charlie his last night at home and moments before the Vet came back into the room. They are private just for me photos. How sad and ill he was, it helps me to know it was his time, but I still cry (like I am now). Time will help but the loss will never end. I think about the moments when my brother looked at me and said goodbye with his eyes. Yes grief that will never end, just ease up I hope.
Sharing your grief and also the hope for better days.
Linda
Thank you dear friend. I know you share those same feelings of loss and, at times, despair. We do the best we can in the face of loss.
I also wanted to say that I understand what you are going through more than you will ever know. I lost my mother and less than two years later my grandmother. My father had been gone for years. While I was burying my grandmother, our beloved 16 year old cat was in the hospital fighting for his life. A couple of weeks later, we had to make that same agonizing choice. It is wrenching. Years later, we were faced with another decision that upset me so much I went to bed for a month. Whatever it takes, and it took that for me that time. And we still tear up. I’m doing it now. Just be kind to yourself. Grief is definitely a process. Just as moments of happiness in the days after are not a betrayal of those we’ve lost. Somewhere, there’s a balance, but people used to wear mourning clothes to signal that others should deal kindly with them. Maybe in this push and shove world with instant this and that we should go back to that custom.
To that end, tender hugs being sent your way. xoxo
Thank you so much for those kind words. Wearing black would be so helpful, wouldn’t it?
Yes, indeed, it would. And they wore shades of purple as the mourning progressed. Another of life’s civilities gone by the wayside… xo
xo
Grief takes such a toll on our emotions and so many losses in such a short time make dealing with our feelings even harder. I am thinking of you today Claudia and I hope you feel better soon. It’s cool here today but not raining.
Thank you so very much, Janie. xo
Yesterday was a strange weather day…in the morning the snow was so heavy…with the wind, it looked like a blizzard. Twenty minutes later…the sun would be shining. This cycle of snow squalls followed by sunshine, repeated itself all day, until late afternoon. Today…sunny, windy, 60! I didn’t check my plants…I was hoping MotherNature would protect them. Guess we’ll see what happens…I’m hoping for the best! ;)
We’re supposed to be in the thirties through Tuesday. I’m afraid for my plants!
I understand…fingers crossed! I found myself daydreaming this morning, about what annuals I was going to plant in my pots this year…one of these days! ;)
We’re due for 3+ inches tomorrow. “Winter Weather Advisory” – ummm…. is it really April?
No…..really? You are so creative…I can not wait to see the title of tomorrow’s post! LOL!! ;)
Grief is a journey. It never ends, but it ebbs and flows. Our hearts won’t ever heal completely; they are covered in scar tissue. Let the tears come…yes, they are exhausting, but healing. My dad’s been gone over 17 years and I still miss him terribly. And then there’s my son…but there’s not even any words for that kind of grief.
We have the same BS weather going on as you do. We had snow and hail on and off all day yesterday, with 50 mph winds. Today is actually supposed to warm up into the 60’s but here it is 10:30 and it’s only 35. So, we’ll see. But then back to high of 39 tomorrow. And rain most of the week, too. Yucky weather.
Very yucky, Melanie. xoxo
My heart goes out to you, Claudia. There is no time limit for grief. When my dad died suddenly, it took me a year, after making a series of impulsive and wacky reactive decisions. Be kind to yourself, while the world seems surreal. Best, Heather
I promise to be kind to myself, Heather. Thank you.
Claudia, I enjoy your blog very much. We have the same old farmhouse/cottage places to live
in on a little piece of land to enjoy our gardening and critters that visit. Mother Nature is
punishing Michigan too with the erratic weather. I check on my gardens too. Please survive my pretties as I need your loveliness again in my life.
I ask my parents and my only sibling, a younger brother to please, please visit me somehow
and assure me you’re together and at peace. Take care of my fur babies that you loved.
Perhaps I’m not able to detect their signs? I try hard to, maybe that’s the problem?
I told my Don yesterday that I miss my “silly corgi boys” so much and even look out into their
little “yard” area and oh the tears start up again. He said he missed little Roscoe who was blind and basically Down Syndrome, who would run to the mud room with his little nose
pointed up because he heard “daddy’s home”. I too drive by our vet’s and have to look the
other way so as not to see the place they finally had to leave us. I am sorry to vent like this
to you, but I feel like we are kindred spirits in many ways.
Take care and so glad your Don is feeling better. Cellulitis is very painful, and can recur. Be
careful.
Penny
You’re not venting at all! I understand. It never goes away, does it? We miss them so.
Oh Claudia, I wish I could wave a magic wand and make your sorrow disappear. Sadly, that is not possible. My Daddy left us in 2010, Mom in 2014, my beloved Aunt Susan in July 2015, just eight days before my birthday. I cry every day, some days more than others. On Friday I sobbed for about an hour. My favorite place to cry is in the shower. I vividly remember the deaths of each of my beloved dogs, one cat and one horse. Some days I am a total sobbing mess. I don’t know how David puts up with me, but he does. I have always talked in a different language to my pets and made up a special song for each one. Bentley has his own song and I sing to him every day. We have our own way to communicate. This is how I cope. I talk to my parents every day, my aunties and grandparents too. When David and I go on vacations, I pretend Mom and Daddy are in the back seat. I always tuck in framed photos of my beloved pets in my luggage. It’s how I cope. Most importantly, I remind myself every day that their memory lives on in me. Each cell in my body come from my family. It gives me comfort. By the way, my closest friend from my NYC days is a huge Villanova fan. All three of her kids are alumni. I was cheering for them too!
Lots of Love,
Susan and Bentley
Thank you, Susan. There I was, sobbing away, and Don was holding me in his lap (with such a painful leg!) and rocking me back and forth. We are blessed with understanding mates. Scout’s photo is the wallpaper on my phone, so I see her every day. And every time I look at the blog, I see Riley and Winston, as well. I love them all so!
“When someone you love becomes a memory, that memory becomes a treasure.” I read that recently (as a quote), but no one was attributed. But it is so true, because as we grow older, our collection of treasures grow and grow. We find comfort in those treasures, but also pain. No way to get through it other than one foot in front of the other, one day at a time. And, sadly, there is no “finish” line.
Sorry about your snow. And the wind which never seems to end…. We have sun today, and it is supposed to get into the 60’s, but I am doubting that as we still have wind, so I’m sure it won’t feel like 60 no matter what the thermometer says.
Hope Don is feeling better and that the snow blows away for you as it did for us yesterday. ♡
We supposedly have more coming tomorrow. Enough already!
I talk to my cats in that same special way Claudia…I also make up sweet little songs about each one…they must enjoy it because they love to follow me around the house..I said recently that it’s hard to remember the last time I went to the bathroom alone…lol…I am hoping that once you get back to working in your gardens and see your flowers blooming it will help to lift your spirits some…Hold on to those sweet memories Claudia…
Thank you, Nancy.
I am so happy you are finding your way forward. All the advice and kind words are like blankets that cuddle us when we are hurting, but no one can help you move forward but yourself. You find your way and you will remember all the kindnesses given to you making it possible for you to find your way forward. Bless you and Don. Enjoy the Spring. Even with the snow (LOL)!
Thank you so much, Tana!
I cry with you, Claudia. I was with my husband as he died. I was with my father as he breathed his last. And with my beloved dog, Sooner as he was sent on to a place without pain. I still cry for all of them; I guess I always will. Queen Elizabeth summed it up when she said “grief is the price we pay for love.”
Exactly. And we wouldn’t give up the chance to love and be loved.
Hang in there.
Whenever I’m especially tired a lot of those sad thoughts come crowding in.
I find going for a walk helpful if I can’t settle to anything else. It’s sunny here today, but we are due for snow this week as well so I’m off for a brisk 15 minutes before I have to work this afternoon. I hope Henry/Henri resurfaces this year.
Too windy for any sort of walk today! Gusts of up to 50 mph. Thanks Barbara.
I’m so glad you recorded your language with Scout. That is so important… I remember asking to keep my Grand-dads message machine tape after he died. It helps.
These things take time Claudia– you’ve been hit with a rough few years. Don’t be hard on yourself.
I have my brother’s voice on an old answering machine tape, Patricia. I’ve kept it all these years. (Sent you a message on IG)
Thinking of you, Claudia, today and every day.
Thank you, Nancy.
Go right on talking to your loved ones, Claudia. I do it often myself, and believe it to be every bit as cathartic as tears. Love doesn’t end when our loved ones leave us – why should our communication with them end? When I see a movie I know my Dad would enjoy, I tell him. When I can’t find something in the house, I ask my Mom to show me where it is. And I tell ALL the dogs I’ve loved and lost how much I wish they were up on the sofa, watching TV with me on this whacky-weather April afternoon. So be easy on yourself, and go get that chocolate too… ?
Thank you, Janet. I’ll keep on talking to them.
I still have things happen or see something in a store that I think my Mother would love and think – oh, I need to call Mom and tell her. And it’s been 13 years. I still cry over the loss of her, my Dad and my sister – all many years ago. And then there was John. It’s been almost 16 months and I still think several times a day that he’s going to walk in the room. But, he does give me signs almost every day and they are little things but I know they are from him. The new house has helped keep me busy and for that I am grateful.
Praying for peace for you as you mourn, How is Don doing? Better I hope,
Love,
Judy
I haven’t had any signs from my dad, at least, not that I’ve recognized. But I sure had signs from my mom. Don is doing better, slowly but surely.
I love the bunny photo. In our California drought, the bunnies have disappeared. Maybe they’ll come back this year.
Can’t BELIEVE how quickly your landscape changes with the weather! Dramatic.
You have rough edges to your life right now, Claudia. When so much isn’t feeling right, it’s stressful. I hope things will…I know they will…change for you sooner than later. I wish I could say or do something to make you feel better but it’s very understandable what you’re going through and it’s easy enough for any one of us to say ‘you’ll get through this” and “it takes time” but in the interim, it’s hard.
My parents have been gone 8 years and 3 years; you’re right, it’s that loop. The looping thoughts in the brain; you said it succinctly. I can get swallowed up in it. My most beloved dog has been gone now almost 4 years. Then we lost his adorable canine mate after the next year, so she’s now been gone almost 2 years. And my 19-year-old cat just died about six months ago. I think about all of them a whole lot…humans, canines, felines. My family; my friends. I miss everybody. I have fewer loved ones in my life at this stage than earlier in my life. When I was young, I felt like I had a pretty big family. It felt good.
I don’t think adjusting to this stuff is a breeze. Not at all. I am acutely aware as I age that I have indeed lost more loved ones than I’ve gained…that goes for my health, too…and, looking at it coldly in terms of ‘numbers’, maybe I should have worked harder to add, to make up for the taking away. Taken better care of myself all the way around, emotionally and physically, with new relationships and respect of my body (keeping the engine running in good condition). But I’ve never been a great one for foresight. I’m ‘way too much into hindsight. I’m flawed.
I’ve wondered if this is all less noticeable if you’ve had children. On average, if in the course of one’s life you’ve had children, the old people drop off but then you get grandchildren. Not that you can replace one with the other. But it’s perpetuity…life goes on, continues in its rhythm. It doesn’t just stop. In that sense, I have too much of an awareness of endings rather than beginnings because the branch of the family tree dies with me. Since my grandfather was born in 1887, the branch from there to here, all these years, will break off…because of me. I’m the last. Boughs break. There’s no one following to remember who we were or care about who we were and how we lived. For some reason, that’s a validation I’ve needed. I feel badly I didn’t carry the torch; that I didn’t continue the line. But I can’t do anything about it. And my husband is quite unsentimental; thinks it’s all a bunch of morbid, pointless hogwash!
I have started to keep a daily ‘blessings’ journal…actually writing out everything I am grateful for in the day…because people who live with gratitude (and also a lot of prayer) are said to be happier. I’m always feeling better when I look at my long list of blessings. I feel blessed every day but the reminder list is very beneficial. My ‘pro’ list is consistently bigger than my ‘con’ one. I know that amid all the negative emotions right now, you are by nature an optimistic person. I know you have the intelligence to know how you’ve been blessed. You probably don’t need a gratitude-reminder diary like I do. But I’m just trying to think of anything and I’m sure it also may help to post here on your blog, getting the thoughts out of your head and onto words on a page. Sort it out when the thoughts begin to jumble and be too much. You have a right to go through every emotion you’re having, Claudia. You’ve been through so much of late. We’re human. And although we’re mostly strong, we are also fragile. Be gentle with yourself.
Maybe after Don heals and you’re done with this next ‘Russian’ gig, you two can take another little trip, even a day trip; a half-day trip. Go somewhere ‘different’ for a few hours…find a body of water, the river, the ocean. I want that snow to melt off and leave you for good this season! Then, your garden will resume its ‘springing alive’ and every day you’ll be hit with color and scent, sunshine and blue skies when you start the day. We need to move around and be out in the air (with no big winds!).
My own personal experience with grief, especially fresh grief, is that you have to let it come. It’s like your brain is trying to work it out. Give it the time it needs to do that. Keep to your routine, one foot in front of the other. Later, the only thing that has worked for me is to distract myself. (Being outside, awake and alive and in tune with the senses is a great distraction.) Because I can torture myself pretty easily by questioning if I could have done anything differently or why something had to go down the way it did…and I just wish when that happens that I could have a stronger sense of self and accept that it’s a ‘way bigger thing than just me, and probably has very little to do with me. Life and death is big stuff. Huge on the stress ladder. Complicated. I keep working on it. We’re all a work in progress.
I hope you got lots of good, hot comfort food when you went out to the store. I hope you wrap up in a big quilt or one of your lovely scarves as you cuddle next to Don in the evening. Find a new movie to watch. Try to get some good sleep. As you’re falling asleep, vow to empty your thoughts for a little while. Relax your whole face; drop your jaw. Tomorrow will be a better day!
Wonderful thoughts and advice, as always, Vicki. Not having any children, I understand what you’re talking about. I never really wanted any, but you do feel their absence as you get older, don’t you? I have lots of nieces and nephews, but it’s not the same. Death is huge and I’ve really had to think about it with the deaths of my parents. I’ve lost a lot of people, starting when I was just a kid and two different children I babysat died of cancer. Classmates died young. Students died unexpectedly, including one, who I adored, who was murdered by a handgun. And on and on – I lost my brother in 1991. And several friends and colleagues to AIDS. It’s all heartbreaking, but it really hits you when you realize you’re not young anymore, and you’re not immortal, as it’s easy to think when you ARE young. Ah well. The circle of life, and all that.
We had snow last Monday and yesterday I got a horrible sunburn! The weather is quite crazy this spring. Tomorrow heavy rain, but at least no snow predicted. I’m sorry about the day you had. I wish I could help. I know I can say I’ve been in a similar situation as you know and you just have to get through each day. I like that you recorded your memories. That sounds like just the right thing to do.
Blessings always,
Betsy
Just a day at a time, Betsy. That’s all we can do!