An Invincible Summer - A Woman's Journey

It happened so slowly that I didn’t really know it had. This little big town has become home. The largest city in Oregon, with less than 650,000 people, has half the population density per sq mile of my home town of Los Angeles. Traffic can get bad but nothing by comparison.  The people are unique, hence the city motto of “Keep Portland Weird”, and they’ve grown on me. In general, they are a little more small town than I’m used to so….a bit kinder. It’s a forest. I love the trees. The food is amazing! Gourmet food carts, hole in the wall restaurants, frequent nominees and winners of the James Beard awards (best new restaurant 2023  Kann ). No need to step foot in a chain restaurant here, there is food on every corner and it’s good. I’m finally feeling connected. It’s taken awhile. I had to get beyond my grief and I have. It doesn’t hurt anymore which is lovely. It helps to be out in the garden after a long winter. The rhodys and azaleas were stunning, as were there dogwood and...

My older brother, John, died the other day at the not ripe old age of 62. He was #4 and I am #5.  I called my little bro, we checked in with each other. We realized that our memories had to be very different from #’s 1, 2 and 3. They got to see John as an infant and toddler. They have memories of him growing up. My little brother and I do not have good memories of our childhood with John. He was difficult, often in trouble, had problematic friends, could be manipulative and had a lot of anger. We also do not have many good memories as an adult because he had been partially estranged with intermittent interaction that wasn’t “easy”. He was not an especially good father or husband but he did try to be a good son to my mom. I decided I wanted to share the good that I do remember…… My mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer around the year 2000. He came home for the first surgery. It was a big one. Gone were her ovaries, cervix, uterus, the top part of her vagina and a good section of he...

She drives past me slowly.  This cemetery is tucked neatly in the mountains of Portland, the roads curve and meander first low towards the newer sections then circling back up the hill, high towards the original well established parts. She goes down the hill a bit and parks her little Subaru near one of the steeper portions in the area. It takes her awhile to get out of her car and then she hobbles, slightly bent, up a strip of grass with a pronounced upward slope. Its not easy for her to get to the top. When she gets there she pauses to steady herself, perhaps catching her breath, then bends over to lay a small bouquet of flowers on the plaque. She stays in that hunched position for quite some time with her two hands on the cold plaque that bears the name she gave her baby boy.  She places a couple of Easter eggs near the bottom. She stays there for quite awhile as the sky reflects her grief and lightly cried with her. He was 46 when he died. A linguist for the Air Force, who...

Grief has no time table.  I feel it lifting, allowing the breath to come easier. Still, my inner teenager is hesitant to let go of it. Grief can easily be cannibalized by victimhood and victimhood is one of the tools she uses to get what she needs or wants. She wants to use it even as I am writing this. I write but she tries to override my thoughts, cogitating on how we can still change the situation using the right words, formulating a plan. She would like to tear me from this moment and pull me back into the scary past where we sat rather low on Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. Where, often times, there was not nearly enough.   “How will we keep the house, afford to repair the car, take care of our medical needs?”, she whispers in my ear.  Those thoughts have nothing to do with the start of another beautiful day. The Great Mystery is LOVE. If I am operating out of love the past are just echoes, the future is nebulous at best and the present is here, right now.  The pas...

It’s rainy and cold. Probably not for my Canadian friends but 40° is cold for this California girl so, for this post, it is cold. The drops are big, fat, squishy and coming down fast. A car goes past me as I sit here in my little refuge. It’s rare that I see a car since I am usually gone by 7am but I slept in a bit and at 9am the car passes. It’s a standard issue Subaru which is the Portland car of choice. There must be 3 for every other model.  The car stops, maybe 150 yards away, three people get out, each with their own umbrella, slowly, separately, they walk to their destination. It’s not far. As they reach the place that is calling their hearts, they stand still, but even in their stillness they are drawn together like magnets, edging closer and closer to each other until they look like a single entity, sheltering under their paltry protection. Are they seeking a barrier from the cold or is it deeper than that? Will the close proximity ease the pain of saying goodbye? There th...

Today, every one of my siblings are together.  For the first time since the day our mother died 15 years ago they are sitting at a table. swapping memories, laughing at old jokes and holding space for our mother who would have been thrilled that they are together. I ache that I am not with them. I feel sad and angry that I am not where I belong. I wish they had told me. Maybe I could have gotten a last minute flight...maybe. The family black sheep, the first boy after three girls, the fearless (perhaps reckless is a better description) playmate of my childhood is dying. 4th stage lung cancer, just like our father. God, he had hated our dad and yet he had carried on the family tradition of abandoning families, lying and manipulation, and that beaut of a characteristic....addiction (although, admittedly, his drug of choice has been far less destructive than that of our father's). I don't know if he's seen the errors of his ways. I don't know if he is still and forever the...

The first time I truly grieved is when I lost my mother. I recognized and allowed that grief to wash over me, to sit with it. Still today, it brings a tightening of the muscles that allow the breath into my lungs, not like it once did, but as a reminder that we do not lose dear ones without them taking a piece of us with them as they go. As if our beloved takes a reminder or a token with them, to hold on to when they need verification that their time here was not a waste. A piece of our heart might bring them comfort in our separation. I had experienced loss before that year, of course I had, but our family was not learned in the ways of feeling hard emotions. A person needs to be taught how to feel. I learned to react and harbor anger but the other things just sat there, ignored instead of processed and allowed. Anger and I have been well acquainted over the years but anger, and mere happiness, are hollow echoes in comparison to the complexities of real feeling like joy and pain, peac...

There is something captivating about the desert in the morning. Today it decided to grace me with a beautiful farewell sunrise. It was fitting as I have made a point of greeting it, nearly everyday, for the last 5 years. It was a perfect 74° with a light breeze that delivered a longing for my grandmother’s house in Yucca Valley. The smells and textures of her home in the dry landscape are lingering on the edges the wind, calling me to conjure memories that slip from my vision before I can see them clearly. I can still feel them though. There was freedom, fun, boredom and acceptance at that home. Grandma Ruth had a twinkle in her eye, chain smoked and chewed chicklets gum. She loved gin rummy and kings corners, had a gravely voice and her laugh was a kind of modified / toned down version of Phyllis Dillar’s cackle. I loved it and her. She tanned naked in the desert sun and with her deep, dark tan, her rather wide nose, black hair and somewhat angled features she looked very Native Ameri...

We have been on the road for 5 days. It has been a roller coaster of a ride. Sometimes light hearted laughter and fun, sometimes fear of the unknown has been too strong and would overtake one or both of us. Honestly, neither of us had ever considered leaving California. It’s home. His, a small paradise called Santa Barbara and mine, the greater Los Angeles area which has its beauty if you know where to look. Together we made our life in Ventura. Truthfully thought we’d die there.  We will leave behind my youngest child, my 5 siblings, their spouses and children, his 2 surviving siblings, dear friends and extended family and basically what we know, the familiar. We will take with us way too much shit and our dog, who will love Washington   Washington/Oregon are quite lovely to look at. We’ve found a few neighborhoods that we think we could call home. Money is not going quite as far as we had hoped but then, when does it ever? A tiny, growing town called Ridgefield is top on our...

My job is ending. I am heartbroken. For two months I have been sending out resumes, even before I knew it was ending, because it had been so slow, and I have received one email back letting me know that I was not selected to move forward.  I am unable to replace my income. My job was so niche that it just doesn't have a place anywhere else in this economy. The boyscout is retired so he is limited on any extra income. We are looking at options but one option does not seem to be staying here. This city is not affordable. I have a good amount of equity built up in this house, equity that would serve me well in a more affordable city. I am angry, so so angry and grieved. All the years of following the rules, giving it my best, being a loyal employee and business owner. I stayed out of debt. I lived well within my means. I've taken 2 vacations in the last 10 years. But it looks like I will be having to walk away from another home that I thought was going to be my last. That's wh...

Right now I am thinking of my sweet little dog who has been loyally by my side for these last 10 years. She has seen me at my best and worst and never once judged me (well, once in awhile she made me feel ashamed of myself). She is slowing down a lot, showing signs of discomfort, walking like an old russian babushka with arthritis in every joint. Her back legs are starting to give out and we've notice episodes of confusion settle over her. She has been well treated by the vet, all options taken in consideration. I'm not one to let nature take its course if nature has sunk her claws in. I want to treat her as humanely as I would like to be treated, which means not dragging out months and months of pain in order to not have to deal with my own feelings of grief or loss. I thought today was going to be the day but she's not ready quite yet. She will tell me when she is.

The other day I was having lunch with my two boys and their partners. It was lovely to be with them. It's been about a year since seeing their faces and, even though we talk on occasion and text often, there was a slight level of discomfort....a little ill at ease, getting to know each other again. One of the partners was talking about something, I cannot remember what it was. I was listening intently, which I have to do all the time if I want to be a part of the conversation, but the mask is a barrier that makes it harder even in the best of situations. I noticed my son move a little and realized that he, on the sly, reminded his partner to remove her mask and speak up a bit. She promptly did so but, admittedly, I felt a little embarrassed. I can't explain just why but it was what I felt. Later, there was talk about how my peeps have to learn to turn down the volume after speaking to me on the phone or in other situations where they find themselves bellowing. It's a bit of...

WORD FOR THE DAY Strength means...acknowledging each of those feelings, your questions and ideas and faith and terror, and meeting what comes with the full force of your heart. BRENDA SHAUGHNESSY When experiencing unpleasant feelings, I would shove, squelch or rage. Mostly rage. Those feelings COULDN'T BE FELT! I would blame the people who were involved in creating those feelings inside instead of dealing with them. There were times that it seemed as if I would die. I know that sounds melodramatic but now I know anxiety and panic can tell my brain lies. I still don't like them and I still don't always act appropriately but I am now more aware and I am doing much better than last year. last month and even yesterday. I am starting to feel the pain of fear and betrayal, grief and sadness and not run around like a crazy woman trying desperately to FIX IT. Do you feel freely or do you avoid and, if so, how do you avoid?

In ACA meetings, we are suppose to talk about our experience, strength and hope in the expectation that relaying our walk will, somehow, help a fellow traveler. It often does. It can bolster my resolve and renew hope when I am despairing. Yesterday my girl texted me that her partner's job ended unexpectedly. So many things are going through my head. I am worried about her. I always worry about her but this layers on a bit more. I am worried they will move. My boys have left this little town and I can't say as I blame them. Ventura is a wonderful place to live if: You can make an above average income. This is a beach town and not very affordable. You have a pretty significant safety net. You need a lot of back up to keep life on track when things go wrong. You do not have a very specialized career. We are a small town and an hour or two from big industry. So, my girl and her man have hunkered down and are talking about options and I am here wanting to scream, to ...

WORD FOR THE DAY By learning to accept and even embrace the inevitable sorrows of life, we can experience a more enduring sense of happiness. SHARON SALZBERG I know this is not referring to it specifically, but I am always surprised by people who lose a pet and decide they will never get another because it hurts too much. Pets enrich life so much, that to shutter the idea of ever getting another because of the pain of grief is so foreign to me. Living means grieving, it is inevitable. There are many studies the show that people who are accepting of all their feelings, whether society deems them good or bad, fare better, both emotionally and psychologically, than those who attempt to repress or avoid. I do, however, understand the idea of the last dog. My sweet auntie and her husband have had dogs for the last 60 years. They had boxers and retrievers over and over and I can remember being particular friends with 2 of the many. Their last one, Gidget, passed and they d...

The Secret Keeper, otherwise known as my ex-husband, texted to asked for some help with his retirement account last week.  I obliged because he keeps pretty good boundaries these days and it doesn’t hurt me to help once in a while.  I had emailed him the information he needed and a few days later I texted just to make sure he had gotten it. I didn’t hear back. A day or two later I texted again with a second “heads up” but nothing in return. I asked my girls if they had heard from him, just to make sure he was OK. They hadn’t heard anything either Tonight, he called, telling me he has been sick. Thinking he had the flu, I asked a few questions. As it turns out it was not the flu. He was shaking. This has happened before in differing degrees from mild to unbelievable. He’s on a lot of meds...A LOT.  For blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes, bi-polar disorder, anxiety and anything else that I am not aware. All that being administered by a mentally ill man. I hardl...

Spoiler Alert! Have the words of a book ever sat atop your chest, making it hard to breathe? The following quote probably has more impact in context. So here goes.... The women of this reluctant missionary family, living in the Belgian Congo, are disillusioned and desperate. The father is rigid, pious and blinded by his own scars. The girls go outside their hut in the early morning to help a fearful friend. The youngest, Ruth Mae, is bitten by a poisonous snake. Starting the next chapter, the mother, Orleana, has realized she has lost her baby and we walk with her in grief. This part of the book is some of the most beautiful writing I have ever read. The words sit inside me, with a life of their own, touching my own grief and reminding me just how human it is. “As long as I kept moving, my grief streamed out behind me like a swimmer's long hair in water. I knew the weight was there but it didn't touch me. Only when I stopped did the slick, dark stuff of it come floating...

I thought I had nothing to write about but low-and-behold I got my daily email from gratefulness.org and thought again. When I feared the horrific feeling of pain that accompanied the loss of my dreams I tried to run from it. In doing so, that bastard grabbed me by the neck and tried to kill me. It whispered horrific things in my ear about what might happen and how unworthy and worthless I was. Grief gets mean when you try to shove it away. When I stopped and realized that every feeling I have is ok, not necessarily good but ok, I could sit with it and see it for what it was....grief. Not being blinded by the grief allowed me to see what was left over from the explosion, the stuff I could still be grateful for. These days, I sit with a lot more of my feelings than ever before. Not always, sometimes I revolt, fight back. It looks a little like two Tom cats with hair flying and dust spewing, it gets pretty damn ugly. But doing better is always a good thing, so I keep trying. I s...

Hi all.... This has been an unusual holiday. Our beautiful city is still blinking their eyes with wonder at the horrific fire that swept through, destroying everything in its path then staying around enough to darken the skies and make the landscape look snow covered for two weeks. I've found myself thrilled beyond belief that we had all four of the kids home for the Christmas. One night, as we ate a delicious dinner that my Boy Scout prepared, I found myself catching my breath and my heart squeezing with love and gratitude (there should be a word for that feeling). The four kids with two of their partners were in the dining room while the Boy Scout and I ate in the living room. They sat and talked and laughed, just enjoying each others company. It was such a sweet moment. In all the good and wonderful, there has been a shadow....a shadow of all the friends and fellow Venturans that have lost everything. It has been a time to grieve. My boy and I went up to our old stre...

I write things here I can't say out loud. Whether it's something not acceptable to society or to my peer group or whether it's the many constraints I bind myself with that prevent me from expressing myself to another person. The "for sale" sign goes up today. The house needs work, one car needs to be sold, paper work to read over, another place to live needs to be found, bills to be paid, people still count on me. Today I'm not strong. Today I ache with lonliness. Today I need my mom (imagine that at 51). Today I will go back to bed and know tomorrow will be better.