Adrift

Adrift 

 Everything is beautiful and I am so sad.
 

This is how the heart makes a duet of
 wonder and grief. 

The light spraying 
through the lace of the fern is as delicate


as the fibers of memory forming their web


around the knot in my throat. The breeze


makes the birds move from branch to branch


as this ache makes me look for those I’ve lost


in the next room, in the next song, in the laugh


of the next stranger. In the very center, under


it all, what we have that no one can take


away and all that we’ve lost face each other.


It is there that I’m adrift, feeling punctured


by a holiness that exists inside everything.


I am so sad and everything is beautiful. 

(Mark Nepo)

My friend Marlene sent me this poem and it so describes my head and heart for the past year and nearly an half. I am only now pausing and listening to myself, observing what I choose to do without comment from the part of me that likes to criticize. 

In my email to Marlene, I wrote:

I have been struggling being alone, struggling with all the work it takes to run a household, keep myself alive. As well as my usual chores, I now have to shop, cook, figure out how things work - so many things that I would just call “Rob” and he would solve the issue. I never realised that he did so much...

I have been researching aging, trying to find the good part about aging. I turned to Simone de Beauvoir and her book “Old Age”. How depressing. I want sunshine. I want to understand why Ann Truitt said that it was the best time in her life. I thought of Helen Luke who said something like “to die a good death, you have to live a good life.”...  At every time in my life that I have been uncertain where to turn, a book has fallen into my lap. I am still waiting... 

I have led such an interesting life. I think now of times with grouchy old Rob and I am astonished and delighted at his words, his actions. And yet he was often a difficult man. And yet I trusted him to be there for me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Where do I go from here? I intend to go somewhere.

I intend to go somewhere!

In the meanwhile, I am readying my house for my children and their families who arrive at the end of October when we will celebrate Rob and scatter his ashes. 

Freedom and Loneliness

When nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness? ~ Milan Kundera

The Passing of Time

Growing, ripening, aging, dying — the passing of time is predestined, inevitable. There is only one solution if old age is not to be an absurd parody of our former life, and that is to go on pursuing ends that give our existence a meaning — devotion to individuals, to groups or to causes, social, political, intellectual or creative work. In old age we should wish still to have passions strong enough to prevent us turning in on ourselves. One’s life has value so long as one attributes value to the life of others, by means of love, friendship, indignation, compassion. ~Simone de Beauvoir (Book: The Coming of Age.)

I no longer know what I was doing before Rob died. Since his death - 1 year, 3 months, 15 days - I walk around in a daze, lightly drugged with nerve medicine to still the shingles that refuse to leave me in peace. I am trying to find value in my life and like a woman in her forties who hears her biological clock ticking, I hear mine. I figure that I have five to eight good years left and I don't want to waste them. And yet what to do? I have always found solutions about where to take my life in books but one hasn't fallen into my lap lately. I don't know if I'm still grieving or if I'm becoming senile. I am scared. I have always been prone to melodrama so I hope that's what I am doing now.

First Son's Birthday

Happy Birthday, Brendan! I didn't know that Rob and I could make a human being until you were born. Rob used to say "the pleasure was all mine." The joy you felt holding your newborn son in your arms was ours when we held you. You grew. You tested us. (As Seb will do for you.) When you were a teenager, you said, "I don't appreciate your feeble attempts to make me happy." ( A sign that you were developing your father's sense of humour.) You grew older. You were unique. You were creative. Oh so smart and yet so self-contained. And then you met wild and wonderful Jane. To put it mildly, you both flourished and continue to flourish under each other's care. As you now know, a parent learns from a child as much as the child learns from the parent. Thank you, my beautiful son. You make me proud!

More "Glimpses of Beauty"

I have just reread a script by Jonas Mekas about "brief glimpses of beauty" that has saved me from out and utter despair this past year and a half. I had dinner with friends on a level of grass beyond their house last night. The air was warm, the mood was light, the wine and food more than satisfactory. "To have a glass of wine with friends, old friends and new friends, is beauty... we all look for something more important... But, as life goes on... we realise that one day follows another, and things that we felt were so important yesterday we feel we have forgotten them already today." In my mind, Mekas point is that some of the most beautiful times are those spent with family and friends. (I am posting some of my Facebook entries as some of my friends are not on social media.)

Scattering Susan's Ashes

Susan called cremation "the burning". She wanted the scattering of her ashes to happen after a picnic on an elevated plain near her village. She wanted the occasion to be joyful. Is that asking too much? she asked. No Susan, I think you would have loved the event which took place two nights ago. Your granddaughter performed a flower ballet. Your grand-niece recited poetry. A university friend spoke of feminism and friendship two subjects close to your heart. Another grandson mimiced a wild animal, while anotther did a magic trick. Your eldest grandson played the guitar accompanied by your granddaughter on the oboe. Your new daughter sang. You would have had the biggest smile on your face. I spoke of your love of the body and sex. (You, my darling Susan opened my world and gave me permission to say what I hadn't dared.) After the expressions of love and devotion, David had each member of the family, beginning with himself, followed by the eldest son all the wy down to the youngest grandchild, scatter Susan's ashes. It was beyond beautiful.

Life Mimics Art

Outside Edinburgh lies Jupiter Artland. It was so beautiful, walking through miles of woodland, listening to birdsong, and studying modern sculptures, and every so often mimicing them. "Weeping Girls"

"Over Here"

"I Lay Here for You"

Our Anniversary #39

I'm not sure why I'm adding this. Perhaps to give an overview of our marriage. On the one hand, I'm still not sure I loved Rob enough. On the other hand, I think I gave him some pretty magnificent moments. And he did the same for me. What's the use of whining and complaining about the times when life was hellish? When we were out of sync? When we challenged the other? In the end, now that I have a real overview of our marriage, I'd say that we never ever fell out of love. We never doubted the other's goodness. We trusted each other with our lives.