Clematis

Lena is very photogenic. I also have a trick or two. I try to get the lighting right and get a good background without too much clutter. I get the camera ready and say "chicken". It's her favorite food and she looks right at me. Also, my condo is kind of dark, even in the daytime, so her big round eyes almost always look dilated and dramatic. I especially love this photo - she looks very lovey and trusting. My dad's condo is much sunnier and better lit - and also much warmer - I think it was probably good for me to be in there for the first six months after he died, and during last winter when everything seemed so cold. But in Arizona, even at 4500 feet in Sedona, the heat is more dominant than the cold. So I have always liked my cool little cave. And now, added to its coolness I have all this blue...my mother's paintings (lots of blue), my dad's stuff, the blue Persian rug, and the blue carpet I had put in to tie it all together. I'm getting a little more used to it, but I am not really using the whole house. Kind of an odd statement for a condo that is less than 900 sq ft, but it's true. I sleep in the small bedroom and only go into the bigger bedroom to get my clothes. I have yet to sleep in the bed - even with its fabulous new mattress - and I'm not sure why - because it still seems like my dad's bed? I'm still sleeping in the cozy little day bed that I was sleeping in at my dad's house when he died. I also only use 1/3 of the great room - the dining table area, where I eat, use the computer and write my reports. The other end of the room, with my dad's chair and all of the other nice furniture - well, I walk through it to go water the plants out back and that's it. In the back of my mind I still think I'm going to walk into those rooms and find things in pieces of furniture that I no longer own. It's like it's not my house. My house is gone and in its place is this strange place that looks about like a mirror image of my dad's house, and of course it's within the same walls where I have lived for 11 years.

Thanks! We were both very lucky to have found each other!

I know what you mean - it's hard looking at growing old alone with no family. On the other hand, I can't be certain what the future may bring and I want to be in as good a condition as I can be for whatever it is. I don't want to have neglected myself in some way that would make me unable to have choices if they present themselves. Meanwhile, I have Lena and it makes such a difference to have her companionship and love. And isn't she gorgeous?

Lena has been extra attentive lately. If I call her she comes running and she is spending more time close to me, napping close by and that sort of thing. It's really sweet; she knows I need her more than ever right now. I'm lucky to have her! =^. .^=

I'm trying to go to bed earlier, but it's hard. I have started back at the gym again and am hoping that exercising will help me sleep more soundly, have more energy, and lose some weight, which would be really good for my health.

My attorney is waiting until my treatment is completed. The chiropractor says I have about two more weeks with him and he'll discharge me. He also told me that the soft tissue work would take longer. I have finally gone back to the gym and am hoping that exercising helps me get my energy back. I made another positive change last night as well. Every time I get an email or some other notification the computer makes a tiny ping, as does my iPad, and my iPhone, and all three matching devices that were my dad's, which are now on my Apple ID. It occurred to me that all of these little pings could be disrupting my sleep and I figured out how to set them all on "Do Not Disturb" from 10pm to 7am. This morning I counted how many emails came in during those hours and there were 31, mostly between 4 and 7:00, which would be starting at 7:00am on the east coast. That's 31 times six pings. I just wasn't aware of them, but it could have a lot to do with why I had such trouble sleeping until 7:00, which seemed like a good idea. I also turned off the printer and copier in the room where I am now sleeping, and it occurred to me that perhaps I should turn off the router in the room where I sleep so that radio signal isn't going all night long, along with three sets of flashing lights. Maybe I could get them on a timer so they go off late at night and come back on in the morning. It seems kind of dumb now that I think about it, but I used to have three devices and I slept in the bedroom. Now I am sleeping in the cozy little day bed in the office, right next to the dining room, and so all of that electronic stuff in the house is going on within 12 feet of where I sleep. I guess I've had a lot of other stuff on my mind...

I don't know...5-7 years? Something like that. And then I had thought that I would work as a seasonal park ranger so I could get to wear one of those cool hats. But that was before the head injury when I still had endless energy - before my dad died and the car accident. I think it was really the car accident that did me in. Last night I was reading some things I wrote on here in late April and when I read it, it's hard to believe it was me. It seems like I was bubbling over with energy, even though I was certainly grieving. I don't know what it will take to get back where I was, or if I ever will. I don't think anyone knows

Thank you, my friends, for your kind words and thoughtfulness. That is what I was afraid of. I was hoping that this was some temporary twist. I've heard a lot about how things get worse at a year. Being rather concrete I was hoping that things would keep feeling better until mid January, which would be a year. But we're heading into the holidays, my dad's birthday, and the anniversary of his final decline. Saying goodbye to his house is also daunting. I took care of his house for about six months after he bought it and painted his garage, which was bare drywall and concrete. Then there were the ten years together, in which he would slip a little and then pull himself back up, but never quite to where he was. When he went into the rehab hospital his doctor said that he would be stronger than he had been in years and even though I know there was a lot of hope in that statement, I was greatly encouraged. Then the hospital staff had a meeting with my dad and me and everyone involved in his care; they were telling me that he was not getting stronger - the opposite was happening. He had given up and 12 hours later he was gone. It's funny - every time I say, write, or even think those words "he's gone", I hear him say to me, "I'm not gone - I'm right here". I know he's trying to help me, but it sure feels like he is gone. Back to his house. Maybe he's not gone, but he sure isn't down at his house eating pudding. I keep walking down there, collecting the mail, watering the flowers, and looking for things that may or may not be there. More and more I feel him with me on these little trips. Monday I went down there hoping I'd find a ream of paper, since mine was gone and I had stuff to print. No paper, and I could feel my dad's disappointment that he had no paper to give me. It felt like the end of the book The Giving Tree, in which the tree sadly declares at the end, "I have nothing left to give". Of course, in the book and for me that is far from the truth. I hope he doesn't feel that way. I'll miss all those trips down to his house, even if the only thing I bring back is memories and tears.

It's getting close to a year now since my dad died and it is fully a year since he began really declining near the end. I feel like I am skidding towards the edge of a cliff I've fallen over before, but like a recurring nightmare there is nothing I can do to stop it. A year ago in October I remember trying so hard to save him and hoping fervently that what looked like a downturn was actually a dip from which he would rise. A year ago in November was his birthday and I wanted so much for him to have a nice birthday, but we had takeout at his house because he wasn't up to going out. I hoped he was just having a bad day. I was in a frenzy to get my sisters to get at least a little involved in creating a nice birthday for him, but they wouldn't do it. Then it was Thanksgiving and we did go out to dinner at a nice restaurant, and my poor dad with his Parkinson's swallowing problems coughed on his pie like he was going to cough up his entire insides and it seemed utterly unbearable. Looking back on it and how they fed him at the rehab hospital, I guess it was outlandish that he was eating pie at that point. But it was Thanksgiving and he wanted pie and I wasn't going to object if he thought he could enjoy some pie. A year ago in December he was totally falling apart by the end of the month and I was frantic trying to find a solution that didn't exist. He had a series of falls, hospice got involved, he was in and out of this place and that, while I was sure he could get better if he could just hang on until that compression fracture healed. But then it was January and he was gone. He had been adamant that he live at home until the end, and it seems like once he got to a place where he was incontinent and couldn't transfer himself, he realized that he couldn't live like that at home and therefore it was the end. It seems suddenly like I am reliving last year and it seems unbearable because this time I know how the story ends. I guess it's worse because I am going to be cutting loose of his house sometime soon - probably a short sale - and there is something so terribly final about that. The buyer, Cary, is the uncle of a friend of mine and he promises to flex around what I need in the way of getting things resolved. I really appreciate Cary's assistance and involvement in this transaction, but I feel like I am being crushed. As I get ready to head over the cliff. Again. I hear my dad talking to me all through the day these last few days, but I'm not sure it's really helping. I feel like my life is over, even as I think that is a crazy thought. Or is it? Maybe it's true... I remember being terrified that my dad would follow my mother to the grave within a year of her passing and was thrilled that he agreed to move to Arizona and continue to live. For a decade! He decided that he had a purpose in living because we had each other. But now I am alone with Lena and I'm not sure what I am living for. Lena, maybe =^. .^= I'm just not sure why I get out of bed in the morning, other than knowing there are Lucky Charms in the kitchen, of course. Is this just how it is?

I know what you mean, and she certainly deserves it! Only problem is that I live in a small town surrounded by other small towns and people talk, especially about scintillating topics! Could be that I never worked again in this neck of the woods. Who wants to hire someone who sued their last boss? And who would corroborate anything I said when there is such widespread fear of this woman?

Just imagine what it would be like if I had a yard! As is, here is my front door, and you've already walked through a jungle to get this far...

OMG - I should make a pilgrimage to your house!!!

Anne - these are for you - photos of this year's blooms from the rosebush of your painting. Last year this bush didn't do much and I feared I had neglected it, but this year it was well-fed and turned into a monster of seven feet. I guess it's a climber! The part of the bush that gets more shade has darker blossoms, but they are all lovely. This bush really needs more space and more sun - living in a small condo with no yard really cramps my gardening...

Steve, I loved meeting your sister - she is really terrific!

The pictures are wonderful, Steve - thank you for posting them!

Steve, you really did a tremendous job of bringing your vision to fruition. It was a marvelous way for us to get together and contribute to a common purpose. It was so good at so many levels. I really appreciate what you did for all of us.

I'm so glad you liked the little bird, Karen, and it was great to get to meet you. I missed Brad as well, and had no idea he was there. I ended up leaving in a rush - Maryann, I'm sorry I didn't see you to say goodbye when I left. Thank you for sharing your room with me - it was really nice. It was an amazing event; the whole feeling of it was of love and support - of each other, of the art, and the whole project. Meeting people from the site who we didn't know and yet are friends from the site nonetheless, was something hard to describe. It was a small group of us that actually met, but a fraction of the whole gestalt - a reminder that this site is a genuine community of real people who genuinely care about each other, even though most of us may never have the opportunity to share physical space together.

It was so much fun-there was something really magical about the whole thing. I loved meeting everyone and I'm glad I was able to be helpful. I had fun making the origami birds, too.

'Tis true!

What a sweet story, Kay! I am so glad you shared it -it's one of the nicest kitty stories I've ever heard. This is what happened with my Freya. She drove me crazy howling and carrying on at night when I tried to make her be an inside cat. I felt terribly guilty about having ever let her out when I lost her not much later. But I didn't have much of a choice. She wouldn't tolerate it. I think if I was in that situation now I would at least try doing a leash/harness and going with her outdoors, but that wasn't what she wanted - or needed. She was a mostly wild animal, and that what was part of what I loved most about her. I think many cats can do the leash/harness thing, but not all of them. Not Freya, and probably not Kitty. We fell in love with some wild things, huh?

I think you're probably right, Kay. I'm trying to get hold of my friend Paula, a retired vet who helped me train Lena in the beginning. I had taken graduate classes in animal learning, but by working with someone who really knew animals and combing through the relevant literature together, we made a lot of progress. We did a lot of "exposure" work, by gradual exposure to things she was moderately afraid of, and supporting her through the experiences and rewarding her so that she would have a positive experience and lose her fears so that she could be more comfortable in life situations she would face. I remember Paula telling me that Lena was very fortunate in having the opportunity to successfully work through her fears - that most animals never get to do that. I'm not sure if taking her to my dad's house is unnecessarily painful for her or if it is something I should help her work through. Lena and I volunteer out at a skilled nursing facility where my dad stayed for five days respite (courtesy of hospice), when he was near the end. Lena and I visited him together and the other residents loved it. I didn't go back for about two months, but I decided to add it to her other Sunday job, only one block away because it would mean so much to the residents, many of whom are bed/wheelchair bound. When we walk in, we always go past the room where my father stayed. In the beginning, Lena would really pull on the lead to go in there but the man who has been in that bed ever since is not a cat lover, and so we must walk by. She hasn't forgotten and always slows down and has a little sniff at the door, but she seems to know that he's not there anymore. I think that means she's working through things, but I don't know. I certainly don't want to cause her unnecessary distress - like you say. But if it would be good to help her work through it, I don't want to block that because her feelings are painful for me. I want to help her, and the truth is that the three of us were a little family and now we are only two. I think there is zero chance she has forgotten him, and I sure have leaned heavily on her this year. I really want to do what's right for her and don't know what to do. I don't think anyone really knows a lot about animal grief, although it's clear they do grieve. I really appreciate your story about Arlie and Skye. Most of the stories I have run across are very short term - like a few days or maybe weeks. Who knows what they experience over months or years. They certainly remember people they haven't seen for years but in between the reminders we see, who knows what is going on in their fuzzy little heads? Maybe it's like us - on the outside we look ok after awhile because we aren't crying all the time, but underneath the grief is far from resolved for a long time.

No, it was a terrible situation, and I think I was more traumatized by it than I knew. I think I still have not really recovered from it. The woman who ran the department was truly sociopathic and she really seemed to live to destroy people, especially competent women. She would hire some woman from out of town with a great resume - someone you'd be lucky to attract to a small town, and then set about dismantling her. I saw her do it repeatedly over four years. She was the champion of anyone she saw as damaged or unfit, and she would protect people who were incompetent, but she would basically build teams to go after someone, stopping at nothing to destroy them and then separate them from their job, many miles from their home and support system. When I started work there, I was over the moon to have landed my dream job, but really didn't know what I was doing and I didn't have the computer software to write my reports. By the time I got what I needed to do my job, I was three months behind. I worked tirelessly and got caught up in another three months, which really was Herculean. As soon as I had proved myself she got on my back and never got off until I was jobless. First she tried to get me to quit via verbal abuse. Then she fabricated documents in my personnel file and forged my signature on them to build a case against me. When that failed she tried to eliminate my position and contract out the work, which costs more. The first year, the board totally shut her down, but the second year she was successful because the new board and superintendent didn't know what they were doing. Had I not seen her do the same thing to other people, and had it spelled out to me more than once by people who knew the situation, I wouldn't have believed it was possible for someone to do what she did. I couldn't sleep for a long time, and would just about take to frothing at the mouth any time it came up anywhere, but there was nothing I could do. People either knew all about her- and they could tell me other versions or the same story, or they didn't believe anyone was capable of so much deliberate damage. I eventually stopped talking about it, because I decided it made me look paranoid to relate more than the tiniest piece of my story. My dad carried me financially while I struggled to get back on my feet. But now he's gone and I am still looking over my shoulder every where I go to see if I am about to be crucified, fired for a small error, talked about maliciously, or something else. I worry more than I ever did and am always incredibly relieved when I find that most people can and do forgive mistakes and lapses because no one is free of them.

Thank you Marty

I was out running some errands with my cat today and stopped by my dad's house about dusk to get the mail and water the flowers. Lena and I used to go over to my dad's house to make him dinner, and she was always SO eager to get into his house, yelling her head off and pulling at the leash as I fumbled to get out of the car with the keys and whatever groceries I had. Then she would drag me to the door, and if we didn't get in immediately, there would be more impatient meowing at the door. I tried really hard to give her a gradual adjustment to all the changes - painting and carpeting our condo, and then our move back into our own house, while taking all of his furniture and discarding most of mine. I kept taking her back and forth, but it's hard to know what a cat can make of all that. So we went over there tonight and she hadn't been there in awhile. She was as eager as ever, dragging me to the door while meowing impatiently. Then we went in and she seemed immediately distressed, looking around in all of the mostly empty rooms and meowing plaintively while thrashing her tail. It really seemed like she was looking for my dad, and it was heartbreaking all over again to see her looking for him. I guess I had thought that somehow she understood that he had died and was in a spirit form only now, because I have seen her apparently interacting with him as if he was teasing her or playing with her. But who really knows what a cat really understands. I guess it must be confusing. I think she misses him and doesn't know where he went, but how does one help a cat with that?

I still haven't written thank-you notes and I haven't written an obituary either. Do you get to a point where it's just too late? It's been eight months, and I still can't do either of these things. Then again I still haven't taken his ashes to Pennsylvania yet either.