my backwards grief

Grief is a funny thing. Mom died two months ago, Dad two years and two months ago. In my day-to-day life, thoughts of them arise regularly. These memories range from the time immediately before their deaths to the farthest edge of my childhood horizons. Most times, my brain seems ever reasonable in its reaction. Almost Spock-like on the emotive scale. The same is true when Mom & Dad come up in conversation. I can easily talk about them -- about nearly every aspect of them -- without becoming sad. In fact, so many stories are happy that laughter isn't out of the question.

I've wondered if maybe my ability to grieve correctly is broken. I mean, Mom's only been gone a few weeks. Shouldn't sadness be the norm for me at this time? Why am I able to go about living my life with any modicum of cheer in my smile and sunshine in my heart? Am I doing it wrong?

My friend, Maria, is originally from Croatia. Even though she's lived in the U.S. for many years now, her family still follows Croatian custom closely. When her father died, it was expected that she would mourn for three years. Three years of wearing a black scarf. Three years of not attending any social events like weddings. Three years lamenting the loss.

My Mom had been gone three days, and I was back at my office. Three months will pass, and I'll have Christmas decorations adorning my home when I invite family and friends in for a holiday party. I can barely imagine how well I'll be three years from now.

Yet, I do have grief. And without fail, it catches me by surprise. It's when I'm just strolling along living my life, and an unexpected reminder pops up. Tonight, it was this note above - the message on the back of a photograph of my brother when he was an infant. Dad had written, "Little Gerry... He will hate us for this... ." Seeing Dad's handwriting pushed me off a cliff and into an ocean of grief. Even though what he wrote was funny! How does this make sense?

I always loved my father's handwriting. It was artistic, graceful, individual, carefree. It may as well have been a picture of his soul. I still have letters he wrote to me when I was in college and after I'd moved to Seattle. Some of them barely say anything at all. "Enclosed are photos of some of the latest bird carvings." "The grandkids are getting big." "We can't wait to see you at Christmas." But the elegant, sweeping script written with pen and ink was beautiful and unique. More importantly, he was beautiful and unique. And tonight, I miss him so painfully that I'm nearly drowning in tears.

Why this reaction? Why now? It's been more than two years? Shouldn't big sadness like this be reserved for Mom moments because she's so recently departed? Shouldn't Dad moments be more reserved reflections because I've had a couple more years to adjust to the idea that he's gone?

I don't get this grief thing.

happiness is...

Four schmumfy kitties all sleeping within arm's reach. Three on desktop afghans, one on an afghan-topped hammock below. Truly, I am blessed.

Of course, actually getting a photograph of all four of them together proves too challenging for me. Maybe some day.

Art by Ann Mroczenski

hakuna matata

My friends, Rina and Alia, took me to see "The Lion King" tonight at the Boston Opera House. It was a birthday gift. What a wonderful show. Beautiful costumes. Amazing puppetry. Great music, of course. A stunning venue. And the chance to spend an enjoyable evening with two lovely friends.

tchaikovsky would be proud

This is my little friend, Alia. For Christmas*, we gave her a kit of unadorned wooden nutcrackers along with a paint set. Without any direction, and with amazing determination and drive, she had completed them all in less than two days. Zoom in on this picture. They have handlebar mustaches. It's all very cool.

* We celebrated Christmas with Alia's family weekend before last. Three previous attempts had to be rescheduled for various reasons. If you're wondering, yes, it's fun to have Christmas in almost-March.

six short weeks more

My niece, Sammi, and her mother came out to visit us yesterday. It was sunny and wonderful, so a visit to the Peirce* Island swimming pool was in order. This facility is truly awesome. Built in 1945, the pool is 100 yards long. Can you imagine swimming the length of a football field? At its widest part, it's 33 yards across. At the shallow end, it's 14" deep, and it very slowly tapers to a modest 6' at the other end. The picture at left shows the pool and its location on the narrow strip of island.

During the free swim time, there were about 10 lanes set up in the deep end for laps, and the remaining space was in four big sections. There were nine lifeguards alternately walking the deck, sitting high on umbrella-covered chairs, or blowing whistles to instruct those who dared roughhouse. There was also a good number of swimmers, swimmer-hanger-ons, and sun worshippers.

Grounded without appropriate swimwear, I relaxed in a would-be Adirondack chair (it was plastic, and therefore, not genuine) between a small stand of trees which shaded me nicely and the pool's edge where I could watch Sammi demonstrate her swimming techniques and show off some amazing contortions (she can make her toes touch her ears, just to give you an idea). It was fun to watch and listen to the crowd, and just soak up the general summertime glee that was thick in the air.

The pool is only open until the end of August. So I don't miss out on the fun this year, I'm now tending to my swimwear issue, and will definitely go back soon. And Sammi has volunteered to come back anytime. I'll have to take her up on that offer.

* Really. It's spelled "Peirce." It goes against every grain of my spelling-bee brain to write it that way, but what can I do? And yes, the street on the satellite map picture of the pool is spelled incorrectly! It should be "Peirce!"

wonderful

Proof that people are good-hearted.

slide show

The above picture was taken just shy of 42 years ago. How can I be so certain as to its date? It was snapped in the living room of my childhood home, shortly after I was born (I'm the one sporting the swaddling wrap). Today is my 42nd birthday.

I have no great insight to share. No deep, meaningful wisdom culled from my four-plus decades on Earth. No sage advice to impart. Just a little then-and-now slide show. Above, from left to right, are my sister Cathy, and brothers Gerry, Chris, and Sean. Below, current pictures of each, in order oldest to youngest.

This is Gerry. He's lived in California for almost 30 years. He's an adaptive physical education teacher, and he climbs anything vertical (hence the rock in the background). He's game to try anything -- surfing, cycling, astronomy, geocaching, drumming, spelunking... you name it, and if he hasn't already tried it, he probably will.


This is Chris. He bought the house next door to the one we grew up in, and has been there making extensive home improvements and raising a family ever since. He's a database administrator for a truly massive corporation, and spends his spare time as a Boy Scout leader and watching any vehicle that comfortably goes 200 miles per hour. He and Shirley will celebrate their 21st anniversary this summer.


This is Sean. Also one who stayed relatively close to home (a mere five miles away from the homestead), he is a science/health teacher and athletic trainer for a rival high school (though he still has the good conscience to be conflicted when they play our alma mater). His kids keep him elbow deep in activities like camping, maintaining their personal wildlife preserve, and rooting on the Red Sox and Patriots. He and Debbi celebrated their 25th anniversary last summer with an Alaskan adventure.


This is Cathy. She's the first in the family with two kids in college and the third on the cusp. Cathy lives a bit further from home base, in a house that bears remarkable resemblance to our Grandma Cox's house (right down to the attic accessed through a miniature door in a bedroom, and a cold shed behind the kitchen). She manages a large call center for an insurance company, and is very involved in her church community which, of late, is working to acclimate several families of Congolese refugees to life in very cold New Hampshire. Cathy and Tim will celebrate their 23rd anniversary this year.


Words can't really describe how much I love these people. And not just because their my siblings and I'm obligated to say that. I guess the difference is that I not only love them, I really like them.

With that, I need to do some work for the store before I go to bed. Happy birthday to me. One more shot. Wasn't I cute?

i don't have to dream

And here in New Hampshire, it will definitely be a white one. Despite my earlier rant on the bombardment of stormy weather, it's always nice to have snow for Christmas.

Listening to lots of my favorite Christmas songs these days. Just heard this upbeat little number, and decided to share it with you. I've actually put video of Bianca Ryan here before. Well, here she is again.

If I'm not back blogging before Tuesday, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

good tidings

It's the night before Thanksgiving, and I got out of work two hours early! What will I do with this extra time?

1. Re-sync my iPod to include only the HOLIDAY MUSIC playlist. In progress right now.

2. Write our holiday newsletter. In one night. Really.

If you know me well, you can stop laughing about that second one. I will not be doing the typical elaborate desktop publishing style newsletter as is my habit. Next year. For now, I just need to send holiday cheer and give a quick update.

So, no more blogging for me. I have things to do!

Happy Thanksgiving.

funny in any language

Is there anything better than baby laughs? I don't think so!

climb up my rainbow

Another beautiful day, another lunch with a friend, and a new twist on playing. Ted only had to work three hours this morning. We scheduled a last minute brunch with our friend, Sarah, whose friend from Atlanta was in town for a long weekend. When they headed out for the airport, we headed to White Plains, New York to go to the Container Store in search of a 48" airtight box in which to store a sword collection (it's a long story). We didn't find it, but we did find a few other things, making up for what I didn't spend at Christmas Tree Shoppe yesterday. We then headed up the Merritt Parkway back to Connecticut.

While enjoying the tree-lined drive, we were inspired to do something spontaneous that would, once again, allow us to enjoy the outdoors on such a wonderful day. I suggested the zoo, and Ted, once again, eagerly agreed. I have been to this zoo several times, as it is a regular activity any time a niece or nephew visits us. Any time I'd gone with the kids, however, Ted always had to work. So, he'd never been!

It turned out to be the perfect way to "do" the zoo! The weather was ideal -- warm with a light breeze, sunny with a few clouds. Every other time I'd gone, it was July and hot (or hotter). The crowds were perfect. That is to say, there were no crowds to speak of; only various Moms, Dads, and grandparents with children too young to be in school. We took our time, lingered looking at animals we particularly liked, read the information boards, and snapped some photos.

We saw boy peacocks in various states of showiness, startled into full plumage when a girl peacock ran noisily by. A California condor was walking in the old bald eagle enclosure (a seriously big bird). It's been a couple years since I was here. I wonder where the eagle went. Timber and red wolves. A family of Siberian tigers, with Papa in one enclosure, and Mama with two one-year old (basically full-size) cubs in the other. An Andean bear. A Canada lynx. Lots of turtles, piling up traffic jam style on a couple logs. Alligators sitting very still. Herons and wood ducks and egrets and all sorts of other birds flying around and preening in a walk-through aviary. River otters whose river wasn't running, so they frolicked in a water-filled basin at the top of the hill. A red fox. A white-tailed deer. You know, zoo residents.

In all, we were there for a little over two hours. I stopped at the gift store on the way out and procured a few more stocking stuffers. We got cold beverages from the vending machine before walking out the entrance just as they were closing it up for the day. It really worked out just right. We loaded ourselves back into the car, adding one more bag of goodies to the Container Store bag, and headed home. The fresh air, sunshine, and exercise conspired to lure us asleep. I napped so deeply (and for about 90 minutes) that I was a bit confused when Ted woke me up with dinner! He'd made chicken Parmesan and broccoli. Yum.

I'm really loving these great Spring days. Tomorrow, although we have plans for another trek (weather permitting), we do also have plans to actually do some projects, and will be working much of the day. But I'll have more pictures to post regardless.

~~~
Song: None, believe it or not. It's raining, and I love the sound of rain. So the music is off, and the window is open.

slide down my cellar door

After lunch with my friend, we lingered in the Olive Garden parking lot, extending our conversation so as to soak up the sun and admire the flowering apple trees. After a quick and fruitless jaunt to Christmas Tree Shoppe (a first -- I have never left that store without buying something), I trekked back home on this, the most beautiful day the year so far. Windows down, hair up, music on. The air's movement was too eager to be called a breeze, but not so zealous as to be frightening. The construction delays that frustrated me on the way to lunch were gone now that the afternoon was growing late. It was a glorious half hour of driving.

As I neared the house, I longed not to go inside. I called Ted and asked him to come out and play. He eagerly agreed. I stopped at the house to gather him in my happy Boom Box (which was spiffy and shined after a nice car wash yesterday), and off we went. We stopped at the post office to drop a letter, then wandered around town looking for nothing in particular, figuring we'd know it when we found it.

We ended up at a park on Long Island Sound that we've never entered in the 7½ years living here. Large, twisty sculptures punctuated the walk along the water. A girls' lacrosse team practiced on a fraction of the immense field across the lot from the shore. The walking path still bore the signs of the recent Nor'easter which, when combined with increased high tide, flooded much of the area. Seashell shrapnel co-mingled with pebbles, seaweed, and old dead leaves. Moss-filled clams were vertically embedded in the mud.

We walked for a bit, then sat on a bench to watch the ripples on the water and the variety of birds. There were seagulls, of course, but also swans, mallards, a singular and seemingly baby sandpiper, a singular and very tall crane, and a few unidentifiable birds floating on both air and water. I took some pictures. The rock island where four, five, or six of them had taken up residence slowly disappeared below an incoming tide. Not that it dissuaded the birds from perching there.

Ted and I talked about our day, our projects, our plans for the future. Then we'd walk some more and stop at another bench to enjoy a different angle, look at the waterfront houses, watch two crew boats and their coach practicing on the windy-topped waves, and wander out onto the thick, crunchy sand of a boat launch.

This occupied three hours of our time. Only a chill slight enough to make fingers shiver convinced us to head back home. What a lovely way to spend the afternoon.

~~~
Song: "Palo Santo" by Shearwater. Pretty music.
Other: Taking pictures with my fun-but-simplistic camera, on a day when every angle of life was picturesque, made me long for a better camera.

some spring

Before I get too deep into (shudder) working, here's one of my photos. I love flowers, especially on trees. Yay, Spring!

kittehs, puppehs, et cetera

It should be a requirement for every person on the planet to make a daily visit to Cute Overload. Go there. Now. And later today. And again tomorrow, and every day thereafter. Go, I beg you. Go. You won't regret it.



You cannot resist!

"She Can't Help Herself" by Level 42. One of my favorite bands of all time. This is a great track from their 1991 album, "Guaranteed." They just released their first new record since then. I paid $30+ for it because it's only available as a British import. Well worth every penny. Follow the link on their name above and listen closely to words of the intro. They're so clever!

the answer

The number of questions I have asked in the last couple months is incalculable. I've wondered and doubted and worried, considering possible outcomes and repeating them countless times. The truth is that the answer has been amongst my ruminations the whole time. I just didn't recognize it as the right answer until last night. When I did, it felt like I had been released from inevitability. I thought about blogging at that moment -- to revel in my discovery, share my exuberance, quote a Queen song.

I decided to file our taxes instead.

Anyway, it was too late to talk with Ted about it: he was already asleep. So, when he headed out for work at 5:30 this morning, despite my mere 3½ hours of sleep, I bounded out of bed, became instantly focused, and followed him through the house and out to the garage, telling him every detail. He must have thought I was sleepwalking. I wasn't. I was so energized, I almost stayed awake. But I decided it made more sense to get a full night's sleep. A decision made easy by my discovery of the answer. I slept incredibly well, and woke up (again) energized by the thoughts of my next steps.

It's still scary. Don't get me wrong. I've been through major life decisions in the past, and my experience has been that the longest and most excruciating part of them is the constant contemplation leading up to the decision. Everything that follows -- as uncertain as it may be -- eventually leads to the right direction.

So, most of all, I'm relieved to have made the decision. Now, I'm also excited, nervous, petrified, and excited. Did I say that twice? The second time is for maybe being able to actually reveal all this mystery here on sanguinary blue. It may come sooner than I ever thought it would.

january's dust

Windows schmindows. The two (potentially three) major life changes about which I bemoaned one month ago today are mere flies splattered on the windshield compared to the moose we just hit.

Ted got sick. Ted got big sick. The kind of sick that requires lots of initials -- DVT, PE, RHF. In layman's terms, he had a blood clot in his leg that broke off and went into his lung, causing his heart to work too hard.

The morning I took him to the emergency room was the fifth day in a row he hadn't felt well enough to go to work. That morning was different because, sitting still, he was panting for air and his lips were purple. Later that day in the emergency room, two doctors told him if he had just rolled over and gone back to sleep (as he had done every other day that week), the clot would have killed him.

When I told my family and friends this piece of information, most everyone was shocked and horrified. Me? I was instantly happy. Because we did go the ER. Because I did not allow him to just go back to bed. Because the clot did not kill him. Call me crazy, but that made me extremely grateful.

All in all, he spent 16 days in the hospital. He hasn't worked in over a month, and he's still on oxygen. Since returning home about 10 days ago, he's had his blood drawn and tested twice, and will go to his fourth doctor appointment tomorrow. He has two more appointments scheduled after that. I did reschedule his six-month dental cleaning, though. A person can only take so much.

Anyway, the tests and appointments thus far indicate that he is making progress, although it is very slow. He's lost 45 lbs. in less than a month (the right heart failure caused massive edema). We call this the "Near Death Diet" and strongly urge people against trying it for themselves.

The doctors continue to tweak, add, and discontinue a variety of medications to try and make everything balance. They are not certain he'll ever be able to go off oxygen all together.

We work on things that need constant attention now, to make sure that we're doing our part to get him as healthy as possible. He goes back to work next week, and I'm not sure how we're going to be able to continue to give enough time to the increased maintenance. The upside of his being home is that he has had plenty of time to do all this stuff. I guess we'll just figure it all out.

So, forgive me for not blogging. It was all I could do to continue functioning for a while there. I spent so much time in the hospital that the aides counted on me doing certain things. I went to work sporadically, missing six days. Days when I was there, I spent a lot of time answering well intentioned co-workers' questions about how my husband was. Those days were the hardest because I followed my regular daily routine and then spent 4-5 hours in the hospital with Ted. Somewhere in there, I'd have to make time to feed the cats, clean the litter boxes, fill my car with gas, do laundry, etc. It sounds stupid, but it really became quite overwhelming.

My sister, Cathy, and her youngest daughter, Ariel, came to my rescue the second weekend Ted was hospitalized. They helped me do stuff like organize and put away Christmas paraphernalia, shred old bills that were clogging up my file cabinet, vacuum every nook and cranny of the house, reorganize the linen closet. We threw away so much stuff, we had to start putting the trash bags on the ground outside the Dumpster. Ariel re-alphabetized my entire CD collection. Whoa.

They had meals with me and they came with me to visit Ted and they let me talk incessantly and they generally took care of my fragile soul for a few days. Words can't describe how much that meant to me.

So now, God willing, the big drama is behind us, and we can concentrate on the process of returning Ted to health. Oh yeah, and cleaning up the glass shards from those broken windows. Maybe in between, I can find a little more time to blog.

"Body and Soul" by Dianne Reeves

happy holidays

simply the best

I've said it before, and I'm saying it again. No offense to other great vocal groups of the world, Take 6 is just head-and-shoulders above the rest. I was lucky enough to hear about them when their first album was released in 1988, which has allowed me to follow their career and quickly procure each album as it came out. I also had the great good fortune to see them perform live at the Puyallup Fair in 1994. Despite the down-home atmosphere of the venue and inexplicable poor turnout, their performance was stunning. The harmony was spot-on, their energy was unequalled, and the arrangements were absolutely incredible.

I'm effusing all over the place here, aren't I? Are you getting the idea that I love these guys? Part of the reason for the timing of this rave is that they have a good deal of Christmas music, so they are regularly intermingled as I immerse myself in the shuffle of 1171 holiday songs. Theirs is uplifting, joyful, and reverent music (even when it's not Christmas-specific) which allows me to sing along loudly and badly and still feel accomplished and connected. Thank God for Take 6.

believe

The Four Phases of Life

1. You believe in Santa Claus
2. You don't believe in Santa Claus
3. You are Santa Claus
4. You look like Santa Claus

I told this to my Dad last year around this time. A veteran Santa, he laughed heartily. Then he said, "except one thing... I never stopped believing."

Me neither, Dad.

"Song for a Winter's Night" by Sarah McLachlan

we are elves: we dance

I have requested -- nay, demanded -- that all of my nieces and nephews perform this task. The first four are in, and I must post them here. In a pre-emptive attempt to avoid their potential claims that I'm embarrassing them on the internet, I'm posting my own final product first. See? It's all in good fun!

OK, so here's Aunt Kelly's elf dance.

Now, here's Andrew's.

And here's Caitlin's.

Here's Dan's.

Here's Sammi's.

Is it worthwhile to note that the college students were the first to reply? I wonder if they have some spare time on their hands. ::wink:: The second phase of elves include Dan, who is a high school junior, and Sammi, who is in 8th grade. Now Josh, Megan, Ariel, Courtney, and Ryan must all comply with my demand! *UPDATED - Don't you guys realize that I'm still in possession of your gifts? Bend to my will and elf thyself! Or I shall be forced to keep the goodies for myself! Or use the worst possible photo I have of you and make your elf myself!

Sadie is intrigued by the on-screen dancing (to the right). She watches the monitor closely as I view Sammi in full elf regalia.

This little blog of mine (I'm a-gonna' let it shine? just kidding) has a few regular readers. Hi Regular Readers, and thanks so much for visiting regularly! And there are a few passersby who happen across sanguinary blue by hitting the "next blog" button, going to Connecticut Weblogs or Forty Faces, or coming from a blog that links to mine. Hi Passersby, thanks for taking the time to peruse. And then there are the searchers who end up reading one of my silly little posts when they've entered keywords into one of a zillion engines. Hi All!

To this wonderful melting pot assemblage of an audience, I'd like to request that you, too, make your own dancing elf. It's easy! And it's fun! And when you're done, please post the URL in the comments section of this entry. Christmas is all about sharing.

Thanks to Whitney at USA Today's Pop Candy for blogging about The Elfamorphosis. Otherwise, we never would have had so much fun becoming elves!

Happy Holidays!

"Christmas Don't Be Late" by Powder (a kick-butt cover of the Chipmunks' song, which was simply called "The Chipmunk Song")

Originally posted 12/6/2006 at 11:53PM
Second posting 12/8/06 at 6:17AM
Third positing 12/9/06 at 11:45AM