Margm

I have gotten into a discussion on another arm of this grief forum (I am sure there is a better word than arm), and I felt out of place. Perhaps that is good. Right now I felt I had left my cocoon. Okay, it has been six months, maybe I ought to branch out and see what the other "arms" of this one big forum on grief offer. Maybe that is growing in the grief, I definitely feel the grief is growing, often. Maybe I will meet new people and not become so dependent on the wonderful people here. I guess there are still possibilities for old people. Maybe there is a geriatrics forum. Maybe there should be one for people married 50 years or longer. I will look. No one has personal messaged me that I am too old yet. Possibly I could be though. I have missed members that introduced themselves and I thought that grief is the same the world over. We had Brussels, I think someone from Ireland, South Africa, England, and I don't see them anymore. Maybe there is an "international" wing, or "arm" to the forums. I will explore.

(I wrote this last night about midnight. I was so sleepy, tired of wrestling with Billy's memories in mental and physical form with the moving, that I did not send it. I left it in this little box thing. I see Kevin has decided to relocate. Once before, George decided to relocate (thank goodness he reconsidered). I hate for any of you to relocate because in these six months I have made strides just watching you. Kevin, I have seen you grow/expand your life, and I think there might be hope for me. I have admitted to being selfish, but I don't want to see anyone go and feel "let down" that someone would be allowed to run off, so to speak, any one of us. I would feel more vulnerable than ever if Kay were to leave just because she has more years grieving, Steve, or Kevin. We are all dealing with losses, like Marty said, and it does not matter what or who that loss was from, it is still grief. Sure, there are other forums, but why in the world would someone want to break up this one or send other people, people who are grieving to their "proper forums." I felt this was a proper forum. I always thought of the John Donne poem when I thought of death, and I think of it even more now. No man is an island,Entire of itself,Every man is a piece of the continent,A part of the main.If a clod be washed away by the sea,Europe is the less.As well as if a promontory were.As well as if a manor of thy friend'sOr of thine own were:Any man's death diminishes me,Because I am involved in mankind,And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.

Amen

Patty, I can say too much, but you don't say enough. We bleed on here. Our pain comes through. Your not going to say anything that has not already been said. You are in a business, we are not all in a business, but there are some who are fighting through owning their own business. Yours was just begun and you are facing monumental problems.. I know family dynamics came down on me like Niagara Falls and I did not have time to grieve. Billy and I thought the one left would RV. At first I thought I was letting him down by not taking the RV. But, I could not face RVing without him. Living in an apartment would be the very last thing Billy would do. Am I disappointing him? He did tell me that the one left must live. If I am to live, I have to figure out a way to live. It was not the way Billy would have done it. Oddly enough, this I don't feel guilty about. All I know is there has to be time for you. I do not know how to find that time. But, I do know that you do not have to be afraid to say anything on here or try to hide things. People are here to help.

Well, if I felt bad about hijacking Marty's topic, I guess I would feel bad now. (I don't feel bad, I don't think she cares). Anyhow, I bought myself a new tool box this morning and I put them in the tool box. I don't know why. I don't plan on even using the tools but it makes me feel more like a Ms. Fix-It to have them. Like maybe Billy is in the tool box too.

I'm the worlds worse for getting off topic. In my mind the topic is grief, no matter where we post it. And, sometimes I might post something that is not about grief. In fact, if I can read something from someone that has been on here 10-5-4-3-2-1 years, if I can have a civil conversation about growing roses (which I would never do because next to housework I hate growing things), but I do have run-on fingers and get totally off course. And, I don't know Brad, I think just about any one of us might become very good friends. It is nice to branch out every once in awhile and find out someone likes classical music, even if they are a country redneck. I miss Debbi from Brussels. We had someone from South Africa on here too, and that is one thing we can share with every culture, we all grieve. I like to hear your stories of when you were teaching, or Steve's stories of being a pilot and liking art, Kevin's of living in Canada, Mitch's of his survival instincts and his love for his wife, George for his family, and loving his dad, BillT, for his new grief and helping him, Butch, to follow along with new grandbaby, Joyce, Cookie, Kay, Gwen, Laura, Maryann, Enna, Annew, Polly, Patty, and I have probably spelled half wrong. Have left out people too, but my mind does not remember much at once, even though I type it. But the thing is, we all have something in common and if we can find something besides grief in common, then that is a little help also. I find very many of you interesting people and I am afraid I have become addicted to this when I should be reading my books, or cleaning out another cabinet. Billy hated to wear something new because he was afraid he would wear it out. I just found three pair of leather work gloves I bought him a couple of years ago, he never wore them, he never will. I will quit with my run-on fingers now.

Okay, I won't invade any other's thread with this information. I am finding out the man I was married to for 54 years was a hoarder. No, I don't clean house. How was I to know he kept a collection of crochet thread and pieces of animal skins? I have so much PVC pipe cement bottles that don't even have anything in them. He has oil bottles for all kinds of engines, I guess, and as much as I hate to throw away Billy's things, somehow I don't think I am going to be doing any crocheting with my shaky hands and I am renting, I will not glue any PVC pipes and won't change my oil, in anything. I know most of those scraps of stuff was used for making fishing flies, but I cannot tell you the crap that he used to make fishing flies. I thought I was through with that. I had a bushel basket/bucket of this stuff but now I find it stuffed back in cabinets. Just what mice need to make their little mouse houses. And, I found a Hot Wheels helicopter. I would sure like to ask him about that.

Butch, I cannot add anything to what has been said, but I feel you have been hit by a Mack truck as a good analogy. So many things have happened to you. We have just gotta say, the only way we can go is up. I'm trying to control my "run on" fingers. We are here.

I like that Marty. I glow so much we don't need the sun.

Sorry girls and guys*, I have always been one to sit around and do nothing. Getting busy does not help me. I do what is necessary. Housework is not exercise for me, it is torture. If I can get outside and walk, I will walk till my shirt is wet with sweat, oh gosh, I am a southern lady and we just perspire. I think we all belong here because I don't know any of us that is really having a good time. *Sorry Mitch, I corrected myself.

Cookie, I go through periods of just turning around in this house, walking forward, going to bed, just being in the kitchen and I think he should be right there and the electrical bolt that hits me each time is just like he is gone again, again, and again. I cannot describe it. The last time I cried breathlessly, losing my breath, I just said that all those tears were not going to bring him back and now I cry, I cry watching a TV show talking about marriage, and reality does not want to be looked in the face. I want to look in his face, but not the one I saw for the last time. I have to shake my head and go no, no, no, just to get it out of my head. I see him in everything I do. But, my tears just fall, they don't come in floods near as often. I don't know how much time I have left, but my biggest goal is not to leave the mess my mother has left, and I just hope I have time to get rid of all this stuff, but it is going slow. I see Billy every time I turn around, pull a drawer out, or anything else. I just do not want to be left for my kids to take care of. Two of my friends are going into assisted living to keep from bothering their kids. So far I can still do everything except lift heavy stuff. I just look forward to quiet times and reading, and wonder if that is something I might should dread. I can support myself and really think my kids should be happy about that, I just cannot support three families. We will just have to see how this turns out. Might be the biggest mistake I ever made, if so, it will have to be a monstrous one because I have made some big ones. As an addendum, if it is a mistake, I cannot see how it will make me feel any worse than I do right now. It will just shift the feeling from one state to another.

Kay, I have said before that he is bipolar. If you look back in history, they believe the people that had the most creative abilities might have been bipolar. I read if Churchill had not had his people holding him down he would have bounced off the walls. Your composers, a lot, I don't know how many, were suspected to be bipolar. I don't know what it does to the brain. My dad could play any musical instrument "by ear." We suspect that is where it came from. Unfortunately, I just have chronic depression, although I believe Billy was obsessive compulsive (we are positive), Nothing creative about me.

He was not inspired by his Voodoo Sally paintings. They were a family of Voodoo dolls and the story was magical. I loved it. But, it has to come from him. Those that I put up were his latest endeavors. They were not his best ones. They are scattered everywhere. He visited the art galleries in Europe and long ago was inspired by Vincent Van Gogh. He could copy him almost exactly, but that was not what he wanted.(And, we know all about Vincent), and I was not impressed. Vincent does not care of course. His pen and inks are great and I am glad he is not feeling the pain that made him paint himself into a corner, mentally and literally. I just know he is missing something. Like the child's song of not hiding your talent under a bush. His relationship right now and for 10 years must make him happy and too distracted (definitely) to draw or paint, yet I see him trying, but the disturbances keep him unfinished. I cannot interfere. One of our doctors wrote children's books. His last published was in our library at the big teaching hospital. I rode the elevator with him (my friend was his administrative assistant) and complimented him. I said that I could write poetry when I was taking the amphetamines. He said his drug of choice was gin. I thought that ironic.

Scott went through different trials throughout his paintings. His pen and ink were by far the best to me. But during his druggy days he would come out with very painful ones. The one he gave me was a lifesize naked (nothing showing) of him in the corner he had painted himself in. It is in some woman's home in Denver. It was beautiful, the best he has done, but it frightened me everytime I saw it. He painted his girlfriend as Alice in the 2nd one. After his drug days his art would have spoke more of people in distress, just like he was. Those were sold and were stolen. They actually talked to pain. Crows are in most of his drawings/paintings. He did a series of Voodoo Sally and wrote a story to go with it that fascinated me to no end. I wanted to hear the rest of the story. He is bipolar and he loses interest and goes to other things, but the painting and drawing haunts him constantly. The drugs and finally the hep-C nearly killed him, but he does not draw upon those dark times. His dark times paintings were what sold to tortured souls though. His whole collection was stole from a place called "The Poet's Loft" in Hot Springs where they were on loan. The first is a pin and ink called "rabbit run." The third, the framework is pen and ink and then painted. His black and white intricate pen and ink are mine and his dad's favorites.

I ordered the book for my Kindle and will start it after Monday night. Thanks. I keep having very intrusive flashback triggers everywhere I go in this house,, this town, Hot Springs, and I would die if I had to go to Little Rock. I am not complaining, I am fearful.

Laura, my son is an artist. He used to go by the name Faderwing, and his paintings had a following, but he has quit painting so much. He was what you really call a "starving" artist and could not make a living that way so, he went into DJing, got into drugs, and his paintings kind of fell by the wayside. It is a shame, he was good, still is, but he has other things on his mind now and does not put time into it like he used to do. I know though, his paintings were like his kids. You don't criticize a person's kids or your asking for trouble. He might take criticism, but they were his kids. He never had a marketing ability, but his paintings took top money put up at auctions in Hot Springs and he had quite a few of them stolen out of galleries. A doctor bought one and put it in his waiting room. They were never of landscapes, happiness, etc., but they did speak to people that needed to be spoken to. The doctor was a neurologist. He showed in quite a few places, a while back in Sedona. He stayed with a friend he graduated with and she had his paintings shown.

Thank you Laura. That was very sweet. My daughter has two dogs and two cats. Cannot seem to warm up to four legged fur babies or two legged people. My family puts up with me pretty well.

I am smiling Butch. It worked. She has such beautiful bright eyes. Gracie, your all of our's miracle baby.

Cookie, there is a blog that Billy and I read every day. RVSue and Crew. It is a lone woman living in a very small RV, maybe a Casita, and she has her two fur babies with her. One passed away and we as her readers grieved right along with her.. She boondocks (single RV parking without landlines) by herself and is never afraid, or does not show it. The two fur babies could not protect her, they are very small. So, when Billy left, I knew that was what I would do. I would go to all the places we were going to go. Our RV is only 23 feet long. The more I thought about it the more fearful I became. She always manages to get her RV hooked and unhooked, and she is no spring chicken either. She has a bull horn, I believe, to scare away animals, and where she parks in various states, any breed of animal could be dangerous. Anyhow, Billy and I knew the other one would carry on in the RV, like RVSue. I had courage the first two or three days and also numbed insanity. I can never live our dream without his physical presence beside me. I am not sure if he could or not. But, he would have a fur baby with him. He loved the big hunting dogs and I think maybe he would have headed for the woods. But, our kids said he would never leave them. I don't know who is right, I only know with all our family dynamics, handling a fur baby would not help me. My daughter has two dogs and two cats. Right now, just like my great grandbaby, I am better off away from them. Selfish, cold, impersonal, mean, irrational, ornery, cranky, well, I think they all describe me right now. I am overwhelmed with family dynamics as it is and I just want a chance to take care of me. I may be so lonesome I cannot stand it. I don't know. Just quiet and reading and watching TV sounds good right now and not having to worry if so-and-so has groceries, gas money, house payment money, just plain living money. I feel most times like those old torture things of being pulled four different ways. Now, if they all leave me alone, I really might be certifiable, but I would like a chance to find out. And, I feel terribly guilty just typing that. Oh, and I never read RVSue anymore. It just brings up pain.

Miracles still happen. I am so happy for you Butch, and little Gracie's whole family.

Marty, my kids and friends want me to get an animal. I just cannot. Right now I cannot manage to take care of myself properly and I would not have an animal that I could not take care of. Besides, apartments charge more for animals and right now, I just don't have the "love" that I need for one. I couldn't even feel close to my great granddaughter. I don't know what stage that is, I don't think I remember "selfish" as a stage, but there it is, but also my care of my kids, my mama and my sister added on to care of a precious pet might just push me right on over. I see my daughter get up in the middle of the night to take her fur babies out. Then they go back to bed and snuggle. I have taken care of so many people the last 54 years that taking care of myself is a big enough chore. Maybe "selfish" is one of the stages.

My friend, I learned this morning, is in the hospital with what she calls a "bum ticker." She moved back to our hometown, she and her sister, and after her husband's death, she and her sister lived alone. They were going to live where they came from for the rest of what we all know is not sometimes as long a life as we want. Her sister was younger than her, but because of her "bum ticker" passed away a year ago. So, she decided to move back to be around her kids, grandkids, and greats. It is not far "down the road." This morning I learned she is in the hospital as above. Meditation tapes might help, I am not sure, I hope they have some subliminal message playing in my ears after I am asleep. Stress can kill a person. And, I would think we all know we have come close to just plain wishing it would take us on over. I already walk around with a ticking time bomb, and if I find something to make that clock tick quieter, I will take it. I cannot take many medicines. I already know, if anything else happens it cannot be fixed and honestly, other than the stress, I don't care to fight anything else. So, what I do is just try to fix it where there is not much to clean up for my kids. I have one friend moving into assisted living one street over from my apartment and another friend of both of ours will follow soon afterwards. She is already deaf. My other friend cannot walk without assistance. I am thankful I can walk, but I cannot pick up heavy objects. "Sometimes when your falling off a cliff you reach for anything." Like my friend grieving her sister, sometimes at our age it is easier to just "take a pill" or give up. You need something to fight for to live. My friend, the stress of losing her husbands (more than one), losing her sister, being in rehab (broken bones from a fall) for months, sometimes it is not enough. She is a gifted technical writer and wrote the book for the Black Hawks, a technical book for them and was asked to write another. I think maybe the stress of that, losing her husbands, her sister, and the new move after the other move less than two years ago might have been too much. She has lots to live for. So do I. Sometimes living seems such a big chore.

The fear comes on me, like someone said, in waves. Sometimes when I feel it coming on I go talk to my neighbor widow. She helps calm me down, she has been widowed near five years. She is my shrink, accountant, friend, and I am going to miss her when I leave here. We will have to write or call. She does not use the computer. I never take more than my allotted two a day, but sometimes I get by with one. I was on them before back in the early 1980s. I got myself off them, tapering off. I do know how to taper off them and I had no withdrawal symptoms.. There was no craving or anything. Now, the amphetamines (and again, yes, legal prescription for seven years), those had me totally hooked. Getting off cold turkey, I went a little crazy and wound up on the psych ward. It took years to stop the craving of those drugs. And, like you, I do not plan on getting off them (Xanax)). They do not bother my colon, in fact, they have saved my life in more ways than one. I know people don't like them because they are addictive, but they do not scare me at all. If I want to I can get off them, I've done it, only I just plain do not want to now, maybe never.

I keep telling myself the Xanax has not lost its power, and it hasn't. And, I will still have panic attacks. I did not have them of this magnitude through the whole cancer journey of my own.

Well, Gwen. I think I am the culprit in this. Damn glad I did not tell anyone what political party I belong to. So, it is a cinch we cannot talk about God, politics, or cigarettes. Hey, I have lived my whole life ignoring politics, allergy from my mom, dad's and Billy's cigarettes, and God..........well, maybe I should not mention him either. I was commiserating the fact that I thought the smokeless tobacco killed Billy. Of course I also think Arkansas killed Billy. I think I stepped on way too many toes. I'M SORRY ABOUT THAT FOLKS. Lets get back to grieving. SORRY AGAIN. Off subject, changing the subject, lets forget the subject......I bought a real page turning book today. One with real paper pages. Cost me 50 cents. It was on Anne Boleyn. She is supposed to be one of my long ago relatives, probably 100th cousin, thrice removed. Anyhow, cannot figure out where it went after that since Elizabeth Ist was her child and that ole gal did no begetting that I have read about. And, Anne had her head lopped off by ole Henry. Lets get back to what the forum is about and again.....I'M SORRY. And politics......I hate that stuff too. Hey, I take Xanax, I love Xanax, people don't approve. I approve and that is all that matters to me, and I don't plan on quitting, but I won't mix it with liquor or Ambien, obviously a dangerous thing. And, I have thrown away all Billy's Dilaudid's. Sorry again folks, I never smoked, but I sure have done a lot worse things.