Clematis

I love this and went down to the children's section of the local library to check it out. It's a beautiful little book!

Maybe no one noticed my shirt. It was a black scoop-neck T-shirt. Maybe it doesn't matter if they did notice.

I was thinking this morning that I'm starting to get it together a little more at work. And then I realized on the way home that my shirt was inside out.

Yes! And a LOT more than was realistic!

The first day of fall!!! How did that happen? It's funny, my dad died in the winter and everything seemed so cold - the whole world was cold and that was just how it was. Then it seemed unnatural when things warmed up, although I certainly enjoyed the flowers of spring and summer. Now it's getting cool again. For some dumb reason I had this idea that I would feel better when it cooled off, like it would be turning back time to when he was last alive. How dumb is that? Now it just seems like a bad thing.

I'm with Marg! My mother was a total narcissist and it was unclear if she actually liked her kids - although she did take care of us. But she was enraptured by her grandchildren - all the cuteness and none of the responsibility - and they're relatives? What's not to fall in love with? I don't know, JJ - people do grieve differently, and they certainly can be really nasty about it. Maybe they'll come around in time...

I feel - I'm not sure that it is hopeless - it's more like meaninglessness. I think it's an existential crisis -or an existential swamp. I used to feel like school psychology was meaningful work - that by these evaluations I could help at-risk kids to get help in school so that they did not end up in prison. I still work just as hard, but I'm not sure I can help anyone to avoid a life of incarceration or if I really care about it. Other people do the same work - does it make a difference that it is specifically me? Well there is an extreme shortage of school psychologists - there is always a chance I might be helping someone that wouldn't be helped otherwise. But maybe not. At this point I have a stellar resume between social work and school psych; working in rural communities, it gets employers' attention. But does it matter? Is my art or music or anything else I do essential to the world in any way? I used to run around saying that I believed that everyone's ultimate job description was to make whatever little corner of the world they find themselves in better - just because they were there, sharing whatever gifts they had. I still think that's true, but I'm not jumping up and down about it now. I have had previous times when I wondered if there was any meaning in my life. But no matter what was going on, I was relentlessly driven by my art, my curiosity, and sheer energy. But now I don't feel driven. Maybe it's the car accident and the endless fatigue in between the head injury and grief. Maybe I'm a different person now - I have no idea. It seems very likely that I will never have another love and that I will have a life - long or short - alone. It's a depressing thought. It was very different when my dad was alive. It made such a difference to have someone who was always interested and supportive. He was always always happy to see me and always happy to hear from me. To me, that was like a drug. And for him, there was never any doubt that I was utterly irreplaceable. No one else could have or would have done what I did for him. No one doubted that he lived as long and as well as he did because of me. What can follow that? Maybe nothing will ever be as good. But the truth is that I really don't know. I don't think eating Lucky Charms for breakfast is doing any favors for my health but it does get me out of bed in the morning. Ditto for macaroni and cheese, but at least now I am making it from scratch and eating small amounts of it with tons of steamed veggies. I am trying to take reasonable care of myself because I don't know what's around the corner and I want to be in reasonable shape for it just in case it's something good. Just in case. Meanwhile, I guess I'll live for Lena. Here she is, on my dad's lap right before I adopted her and took her home. Every night when Lena and I left my dad's house to go home, he would stroke her head and tell her, "Take care of Laura"

Thank you, Kay! And I really appreciate your comments, Marty - I think you are right. When I was going through my stuff this summer while trying to consolidate it with my dad's stuff, I came across something interesting. I had developed the view looking back that when I lost my job in 2009 I had been so paralyzed that I was really doing nothing. I remember lying on the floor with my cello or guitar feeling so despondent that I was waiting to stop breathing. Then I would get bored, get up and resume practicing. That's all I remembered - and my amazement that my dad helped me financially and didn't think I was a lazy slug. But while cleaning I came across the evidence of what I had actually been doing when I lost my job. In a panic and desperation I was trying everything to find a new path. I was in a long term, maniacal frenzy of activity. I got up at 4:30 every morning and practiced jazz guitar for three hours, hoping to get work playing restaurant gigs. (I had done a little of this but not much.) I ended up with a serious hand injury and was unable to play the guitar for years. I also decided to go to nursing school and did the CNA course one summer, followed by doing all the prerequisites in one year. One semester I had 21 credit hours of math and science. I was also playing in three music groups, taking care of my dad, and working part time. I barely slept. I felt horribly guilty when I realized nursing was not for me and quit the program. I dreaded telling my dad, but he didn't care about that. This time, I couldn't do that. Not with a head injury. I have been boxed into handling this in a reasonable manner. I keep struggling with guilt and fear. I have been trying very hard to do my new part time and temporary work without a hitch and it's hard to not fret about every little thing. My computer was off to Tennessee for repairs for six days, three of which I was camping. I tried to use my dad's computer when I got back and that was awkward using different programs. I got mine back and it was an exhausting mess with many long phone calls to Apple to get it running. I couldn't access my email and calendar from the school district and Tuesday was unable to get to a meeting due to my computer struggles, so I participated by phone. Although I have seen people do this for over a decade - it has never been me and I was horrified that I wasn't there. But today I was at that particular school and realized that no one was bothered by that and furthermore everyone is overwhelmed and scrambled - not just me. Sorry - that was kind of wordy. But I really appreciate the support from both of you and the perspective - it's really helpful.

That is so true, Kay, and I had no idea. I really thought that I'd miss him and then I'd go on and do all of the things I hadn't been doing because I was so involved in taking care of him and just spending time with him. But the truth is, that's what I wanted to be doing - it wasn't like it was a sacrifice and I'd give anything to have it back. I had no idea it would be so hard. Of course it compounded the grief issues that within four months of his death, my beloved aunt died, I essentially lost my sisters, and was in a car accident. It's funny - when I write that and look at it, it's readily apparent that I have been knocked down repeatedly and anyone would be staggering. But I seem to keep wondering what is wrong with me that I don't have my old energy and stamina, and it's so hard to get going with things - working full time, cleaning out my dad's house, and everything else.

I think you're right, Marg, about the choices. My father outlived my mother by 11 years. He was devastated by her loss and I remember him saying to me many times in the beginning that it made no sense to him that she was gone and he was still alive. How could that even be? I just tried to be there for him and to listen to anything he had to say. He liked to listen to music, especially to a guy playing a guitar and singing songs that were very familiar. Certain songs would make him openly weep, in a restaurant or wherever he was. When he took a break, musician would come over to check on my dad and ask if he should not play the songs. My dad would say "oh no”, and say that those were his favorite songs. We were both tip the guy on the way out. These musicians got to know us and kept track of the songs that my dad responded to, playing them every time they saw us This happened in a favorite restaurant and also in a bar on a cruise my dad and I went on twice…same cruise, same guitar player. At some point Daddy moved into saying that he didn't want to die, but didn't see how he could keep on living if he had no purpose. Before, his purpose in life had been my mother, but she was gone and he needed a new purpose. One day, two or three years after my mother died, He told me he had found a new purpose. He looked at me and said, "my purpose in living now is you”, and explained that he wanted to be family to me, be there for me, and help me in anyway he could. I was stunned and honored that he felt that way and openly said so. I had made the same commitment to him when I ask him to move across the country, because to me it would've been cool to do otherwise. How could I ask a faltering man of almost 80 to move across the country to live two minutes from my door and not absolutely commit to never abandoning him? But don't force him to reciprocate. Little did I know until he died how totally taking care of him and trying to save him had become my purpose, and that it would make me feel so lost after his death. It's funny – people used to think we had this idyllic relationship and I thought they were nuts because we sometimes got irritated with each other. Now I realize they were right – I just couldn't see the ocean because I was in the middle of it. Maybe now my purpose is Lena…

I'm with Billy; I had my dad's love as well as his friendship, especially during those last ten years. My sisters will never understand, but it's not my problem. My sisters got all there was to be gotten for the thirty years they lived an hour away from our parents and both had husbands that provided very well for them, while I was out west alone struggling to make a living and keep a car on the road and a roof over my head. Now that I am the recipient of something they are totally bent out of shape. Functionally, they are adolescents. Neither has ever had to carry an adult load. They both have children- college age and beyond, but they are a mess because my sisters didn't want to ever be the "bad guy" (take an adult role). Not my problem. But hard to watch.

I have heard that sometimes people draw closer together after a death, but all I see is the opposite. And it's not just in-laws - it's just as frequently within the family, like siblings. It really makes me wonder how many people are all about the money and really don't care about the other people.

Right - and she didn't. I was sorry that I wasn't able to see more of her at the festival, but I wasn't the one she was avoiding. I just happened to be camping down there where we have all camped for years. My other friends also camp down there at that end. I think I would have been a lot more angry with his friends - than she - when he was alive as well as now. But the whole situation is very sad - both then and now. Well, I'll keep trying to contact her every now and then - like with a text message that's easy to ignore if she doesn't want to deal with it. What do you think?

I don't know about bees - other than they like sweet stuff. Do you use a sweet bait for that? My sister - the one who used to love me - made traps for mosquitoes the last time we went camping together and it seemed to work. She made three and put them in a triangle around our tent & kitchen, and they seemed to keep the mosquitoes away. She made them ahead of time and wouldn't tell me what was in them. I built a gnat trap from directions on the internet last summer for inside because I was being eaten alive by biting gnats.The traps had cider vinegar and dish soap in a jar with plastic wrap on the top secured wit ha rubber band and with some holes punched in it. I collected hundreds of them. My dad built his career on work with pesticides, in the lab, selling them, patenting them, and using them with abandon at home. He thought DDT was about the greatest thing ever and would rave about how it had changed the world. I think his exposure to pesticides was probably related to his developing Parkinson's. I thought pesticides were dangerous from a young age; I remember telling my parents there was no need to spray my closet for spiders because I had smashed them all and none were left. I don't think they believed me, but I was trying. I have made it a habit to research any pest I wanted to get rid of, and find the most effective but least toxic (to me) method. My favorite personal invention for bugs is for black widows I find close to the house. Inside a vacuum is good, but outside I hunt them down by spotting their tough ugly webs in the day time and going back to the web at night, armed with a flashlight and can of spray adhesive or some other sticky stuff like hair spray. I spray them with the sticky stuff so they can't move while I stomp them. They are pretty fast and can escape otherwise.

It's a kind of geranium and it smells like citronella but actually is not. I think the best way to deal with mosquitos - other than slathering yourself with poison - is to make a mosquito trap out of plastic soda bottles. I don't know if the plants do anything - and it was actually too cold already in Flagstaff to have any mosquitoes (7000 ft) - but I like the idea of them and they smell nice and are pretty, albeit with no flowers. They were fun to have at my campsite because a lot of people walking by recognized them and greeted them with enthusiasm..."Hey - mosquito plants!"

I have been in a similar situation with my sisters, who also lost their father, but don't seem to really care about his death or about me - I took care of him in his last ten years of Parkinson's, and am now taking care of his estate. My two sisters are primarily concerned with his money - while he was alive they only contacted him as related to getting hold of his money, and now they have pretty much stopped speaking to me. It was really hard for me to accept that more contact would only lead to more pain for me. I feel like I have lost my entire family as well as my previous best friends - dad and older sister. In truth, I have. At least for now. I am hurt and very angry with my sisters' treatment of me; it has been excruciatingly painful. It is tortuous to have people with whom you have had a long term relationship of any kind be cruel to you and cut you out. When there is obviously no hope for any change, it seems like No Contact is the best path, but that is tortuous as well and it is really hard to pull off when you still have hopes - however irrational - that you could get back what you had. Or even a piece of it. Sometimes people change, but for the most part they keep doing what they have been doing.

Yes - it's a hammock. It was pretty cush aside from the cold - hammock, cot, air bed, bike and deluxe kitchen. And all that stuff fit in my Corolla! I also had some potted mosquito plants - they are in front of the bike. I didn't see any mosquitos, but I thought they were a nice touch. I loved having my dad's roses there with me - like having a little piece of him with me.

I can understand why she would have very mixed feelings, although I wish she had been closer, which would have enabled me to see more of her. Nevertheless, most of the group that we camped with were his friends more than hers and they encouraged him in the excesses of drinking, drugging, and junk food binging that were part of his undoing. These are people who can do some partying and go back to their lives and function, but as an addict with serious health problems, he could not. She tried desperately for years to get him to lead a healthier lifestyle, but as soon as there was some success, some friend would come around with some temptation and he would fall right back in. I can understand their desire to want him to party with them since he was the life of any party anytime, anywhere, and with anybody, but I don't think there is any excuse for tempting someone like him into behaviors that ultimately killed him. I was talking to the some of these people yesterday, the last day of the festival, and said something about having missed the Chili memorial and jam session and missing seeing Jill. There were some comments about how it was rather far away, especially in the dark and on foot. Then one of them, a woman, looked at me and said, "Oh yeah - that's right - you guys used to really hang out together". I think they still don't get it - understand why it's a problem to encourage an alcoholic/addict friend with diabetes and a huge excess of weight to binge on everything imaginable.

As it turned out, I hardly saw Jill at the Pickin' In The Pines festival campout. Her dad came out from Michigan to go camping with her, which was really nice. Unfortunately, she decided that camping with all of Tim's friends might be too much, and she camped at the far end of the campground. She came down to our end for awhile on Friday night and we got to talk a little. She said she couldn't decide if it was good or bad to be so far away from everyone. Saturday night they had a memorial jam session and chili feast; Chili was Tim's nickname and he LOVED the stuff! But I didn't get to go because it started really late and was so far away. I wasn't confident about stumbling through the campground carrying a cello by myself late at night. It was packed with tents and campers and roots and rocks and stray ropes. I was hoping that I could tag along with someone from my corner, but I never saw them come back. They probably went straight over there from the last show. I didn't go to the "Headliner" event either night because it was so much louder than the other shows and I am still having noise-triggered headaches. It was weird to be at a music festival going to bed relatively early - rather than staying up as late as humanly possible jamming in the campground - and avoiding excessive noise and all that. I was also really really careful about the bike and cello. Nevertheless, it was really good to see friends and just be there doing something normal. I'm glad I went, and took the bike and all of that

There they are, finally - my camping pictures! You can see my tent, my kitchen in the screen house, and "Mister Cello" my cello in his case lying on the cot. The roses are the last blooms of the summer from my dad's rosebush. They seem to have appreciated the cool nights more than I did...

My pictures don't seem to have shown up...or maybe they just don't show on my phone

Mister Cello and I are getting a little break from the sociopathic neighbors, camping at a bluegrass festival

I'm definitely going to suggest that she do so. She lives in Surprise...maybe she'll come to our show. I kind of doubt it, but I'll tell her about it

I wonder what he'll do when I am camping at the music festival this weekend. When he was alive - some years ago - I tried to get him to go with me. He wouldn't even discuss that or how it could work. I think it just seemed too daunting, given his health problems. But he always wanted to hear all about it when I got back. It would have been right up his alley when he was younger - a lot younger. Well I hope he'll come with me in his spirit form. Keep listening and maybe you'll hear more of him. I think it's more a matter of not writing off what might be him talking to you than trying. To me it seems like if you think you might hear him or feel him near you, it's probably true.