ok,
so i started into this past weekend, sometime in june, 2012.

we started down the whole road that last couple days in July 2010.

seems like such a short time if you really look at it,
and what else is there to do.

there are things i wanted to do, from the beginning, (or is that from the end)
i wanted to keep my thoughts, so that i would be able to look back and remember things.

i didn't want to lose some of the things that have gotten away, but hey that's what memories are for, aren't they, to sort of almost keep the things that you can't physically put you hands on.

i kept a slightly running list, on my evernote account, maybe it's best just to cut and paste, then to edit them in my june 13th view.


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How to begin.

The first morning
Waking up, realizing that she was gone.
5:30am, roaming around the house.
Ending up in her hospital bed wrapped in all of her pillows and blankets.
Slept like a baby.

The first 'wait til I tell her' moment
Tuesday after, lunch with Rebekah and Steve from MS.
They still didn't know how much money, or who was playing.
When I was leaving the parking lot, it hit me.
Since then, it does happen a lot.

Why am I so fucking calm?
I do miss her and wish she was here, I do cry when I'm talking about things, but my acceptance is scary sometimes.


Why am I such a crying baby?

"It is crucial to know when it is appropriate to withdraw our attention from things that disturb our mind. However, if the only way we know how to deal with certain objects is to avoid them, there will be a severe limit as to how far our spiritual practice can take us."
- Lama Thubten Yeshe, "Introduction to Tantra"


isn't it funny, the last two entries?
'too calm', followed by 'crying like a baby'
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now back to june,
i'm still astounded by how i felt the morning of march 25th, how quiet the house was, how i sort of drifted through it like i had no substance either.

it was good, that much calm is always good.
it helped me sort of start planning what i had ahead of me,
start spreadsheets, break them down, this room, that room, category A, you know...

here we are, almost three months later, some's been done, some's still waiting.
although the addition of room mates wasn't an expected thing, and kind of threw the refiguring wrench into things.
and it's not finished it's twisting's and turnings.

"the wait til i tell her".

there sure have been a lot of those, from what people have done, to what nations have done, to how a story line followed through on one of our tv shows.

it wasn't traumatic the first time, and when it hits now, it still isn't.
most times it doesn't really matter anyway,
or i guess i'll tell her the next time i see her.

ok that's as much of the catching up as i can do right now.



the real deal falls back to the whole 'what the hell do i do now' phase of things.
don't remember that in any of my self help books, or ms. kubler ross's list of levels!

there was a thought that stuck in my mind early this year, the old "you're born alone, you die alone"
don't really remember the first part, i might have been alone, might have been in the middle of the circus.

but the last part i wanted to do everything i could do to make sure it wasn't true.

i've heard, and seen, and read, that people say, (those pesky people), that hearing is one of the last things we lose at the end.
it might just be something said, to make the living feel better, but it was high on the list of things i wanted to push.

i tried very hard, especially in the final weeks, to always be close by, to sit with jackie, to keep in contact with her.
if i was near her, i wanted her to feel my touch.
to know i was there, if she was sleeping, or under the fog of the drugs, or wide awake.

i would just be as close as possible, and always in contact.

same with the hearing part, if she was sleeping poorly, fidgeting, restless, i would be as close to her as i could, and i would talk to her, constantly.
(yea, i can hear some of you saying, big surprise, the problem has always been to get you to shut your mouth)

at the suggestion of my counselor, when i told him i wouldn't be going back to work until it was all over, i told her that i was using my vacation time so we could just have a vacation for the two of us, to be together, and to remember all the fun and good times.
she did like that idea.

we would sit and talk about things, sometimes the not so fun upcoming thing, and sometimes just stuff that we did, or remembered.
i know it helped me, i like to think that it helped her as much.

earlier we had kind of come across a combination of a healing touch, coupled with a hands on meditation to draw down her pain, her fears.
she liked it, really felt that it helped calm her, ease her burden.

often i would just hold her, and quietly whisper to her.
"i love you, i'll love you forever"
it became almost a mantra, just to say it, just for her to hear it, to know that no matter how far she was, i was touching her, talking to her, not holding her back, but trying to stay with her as far down the path as i could be.


when the pain hits now, i know it is my pain, my sorrow.
i know she is beyond all of that, and is at peace.

a lot of people talk about our lost ones looking down on us, watching over us, i don't know that i can believe that.

someone filled with love, filled with compassion couldn't be in that place of eternal peace and still see the day to day life of us living.
i don't know how they could do it, and not be filled with compassion with sorrow to see their friends, and family.

that's a big reason that i follow what i do, to know that she is in a place of total peace, and compassion for all souls, all living energy.
her energy goes out to the world, the universe, washing each and all with compassion, the hurting, the happy, the loved, the complete unknown.

the old T-shirt, showing the Buddha on the front at the hot dog vendor's cart. "i'll take one with everything"

so, there you have the truth of it all.

jackie is truly our little hot dog in the sky!

namaste

If I don’t put down my thoughts, do they go away?

Maybe, who knows?

But why not, if you get tired, take a day off.

(I promise to do the same)

I find my mind racing constantly; maybe it’s one of the unknown levels of grief, or a refocusing of the energy that would otherwise funnel into grief. (I’d rather have the fun myself)

Maybe I just like to hear myself think?

For years the ideas have been bouncing around inside, it’s not like a head will explode, I think they eventually melt into other thoughts that are also bouncing around.

In the earlier days, I think I tried to control some of it, just a bit, at society’s request.

(I had a job review a week after Nick was born in 1980. My boss at the time said that he was hoping that being a parent might finally cause a maturity that he had hoped for in hiring me, but had not seen.  Guess again, asshat!)

One of the ideas that made Buddhism appealing to me was the premise that we should never lose that ‘childlike’ wonder at the things we see and experience each and every day.  (I certainly have run with that one)

(WARNING: DEEPLY PERSONAL STUFF AHEAD)

As the realization of the shortness of time came to us, Jackie and I had a lot of deep personal discussions.

Once she asked me what I was going to do when she was gone.

I told her that I intended to use our remaining time to squeeze all of the love, and Jackie-ness out of her, so that I’d have it inside always, to carry forever.

But her being the ever practical Jackie, the week before the end, we were sitting on the couch, just the two of us, and she told me she wanted me to promise her one thing.

(Since she shared my life, she was well aware of the depression that haunted me through the recent years.

Post 9/11, post Dottie, the uncertainty of the contracting years.)

She made me promise to “go on living after I’m gone”.

She knew how easy it was for me to dig myself deeper into the basement room the longer I was allowed to stay there.

Of course I promised her, who could say no to Jackie.

And of course, the practical side of her did manage to ‘warn’ her siblings to “keep an eye on him, don’t let him get too crazy”.

(OK, NOW BACK TO JUST NORMAL PERSONAL STUFF)

Jackie had a way of focusing the wild, and frantic thoughts that live in here with me.

She wasn’t restrictive, or constraining.

It was like if you had a string, (say a long guitar string), that was just vibrating rapidly, randomly, willy nilly.

(and you all remember willy nilly, the illegitimate offspring of that red haired country singer, and those dreadlocked lip sync-ers of the 80’s)

If you hold two fingers on either side of that vibrating string, one finger an inch above, one an inch below, you don’t stop the vibration, you just keep it within the normal hearing range of the average, functioning adult.

She was the rock, of the family, and all who knew her.

So often that rock could focus my thoughts with that look, and the simple “Reallly?” that she would use only when necessary.

That rock has shifted over the last several months.

At times it’s been the shallow depression, to catch and hold my tears.

It’s been rounded, and rugged, to deflect the strange, out of control feelings.

At least for now, it’s become a very smooth, very shiny, concave surface, to gather the random, wild thoughts, and concentrate them, to allow them that much more power to go farther, and be stronger.

Thanks Jackie, for always being here.

And a special shout out to the ebel family…

Thanks for the use of your wonderful sister!

I didn’t sleep much last night at all,

The head was spinning, there’s so much going on.

(remember the Disney vacation ad from several years ago, the little boy the night before the trip, "i'm too excited to sleep!")

Jackie and I had a long talk last night,

She’s very happy with the progress, and direction!

what did i uncork?

now, all the babble that has been roaming around inside my head is trying to get out, all at once.

it's like one of the pesky, bratty thoughts, yelled, "FIRE", and all the others are looking for any escape route.


books:
yea, we all got em,

some of us still buy them and read them.
although like everything else today, the 'substance' of books seems to be strictly their thoughts, not the cover and page setup of old.
(is that a bad idea, in certain ways have we distilled them down to just the essential?)

now i download my books, like i download my music.

it's easier to carry around, it doesn't hurt as much when i fall asleep and it falls onto my face.
and when i do fall asleep, i don't lose my place?

is the kindle doing to bookmarks what john Kennedy did to hats?



but still, with this year being what it has been, how could i not go for the "how to go on living when someone you love dies".

i forgot the basic premise, it's yet another self-help book.

i think the only self-help book left to write would be, "chicken soup for your chicken soup", because it's all been done and redone, and watered down so far that it all makes the red and white labeled stuff look gourmet!
(and believe me, having been born in soup-town, i'm not putting down the company that keeps on souping.)
one of my faves will always be that nice, smooth, tomato variety that goes so well with a good old grilled american cheese sandwich.

an aside: (isn't that all this is?)
once, in a bar, in toronto, when ordering a burger, i asked for american cheese. - ok sneer if you must.
the lady taking our order, kind of looked at me funny, then the lights went on.
"oh, you mean processed cheese" (long 'O' sound)
"we call that Kraft Plastic cheese"

i went for swiss.


back to the books,
i think i'm going to partner with the older, artistic bodmo' brother and come up with the ultimate self-help book.
pop-up book.
each page will contain a single platitude, (and some with the fancier duck-billed platitudes), and
as you read it, a cardboard hand will rise from the page, slapping you in the forehead with a loud 'duh' sound.

how DO you go on living when someone you love has died.

the same way you go on living:

• when someone you love is getting close to the end
• when someone you love (and you) are blissfully ignorant of just how short a time you have left together.

you put one foot in front of the other, you hope for the best, you take what you get.
you have good days, you have bad days,
you have days where you think things can't possibly get any worse, and they do.
or the days when there is no way but down, and suddenly, out of nowhere, there is such a blinding, bright, warm flash of sunshine that you can't help but say, "this is what it's all about"

you go on by remembering things that live inside you.

when you dump the laundry basket of towels on the bed and stop to think...
"what is that special folding technique that she came up with that is the only way to get all the towels in that little closet.

you go on by whatever means you have,
often, pop culture generated?

Red to Andy: "get busy living, or get busy dying"

at times like this, the old rolling stones song, "you can't always get what you want" comes to mind.
although now it always brings me to 'the big chill", especially since the other week's perfect recreation of the glenn close shower scene, after an afternoon of clearing away old hair brushes, perfume, oils, lotions, night guards, and all the other essentials that aren't any longer.

it's like when you finally realize you can't spend the entire day on the couch, and you sit up and say to yourself,
"now what are you going to do, dumb ass"
(celebrity voice supplied by Kurtwood Smith)

like every single day since you can remember.

mary, mary, how does that garden grow

wow,
been a long time since i put anything up here.


it's almost halfway into 2012, nothing has happened, you ask?


no, too much,
there was a marriage.,
then a death,
then the end of a marriage, (yes, same one as two lines above...)


billions of people in this world, yet still we somehow manage to do most of our traveling alone.


we all have out little space, and we cultivate what we want around us.  
for good of for bad.


some keep their space bare, and desolate, so as not to let any weeds grow.
if you don't know what it is, it must be a week, so you pull it, nothing grows.


most of us, have a nice little plot, a few favorite plants, and various others, some weeds, some not.
(often the weeds are the most fun, and can get you into the most trouble,
but you wouldn't live without them)


but for most of us, there is at least one of two favorites.
when it's nice and sunny, we can go out and sit under the branches, and feel warm, sheltered, loved and taken care of.


when the weather goes south, maybe it's raining hard, you get closer to the faves, their leaves and branches break the momentum of the rain.
you are both still getting wet, but together it's not as bad.


then something happens and that favorite is gone.
there is just a hole where your soul used to be.


you look down into the hole, wondering what happened, why it happened, how you can get your favorite back.


there are so many possible solutions:

• sit and look down into the hole, crying each day until the moss around you grows up over you
• climb down into the hole, swearing not to come out until your special one comes back. eventually you get buried and there isn't even a lump for people to remember you by.
• some run out really quickly, almost always too quickly, and buy a new favorite plant and put it in the open, scary looking hole in your space.  rarely it works, but still we try
• some buy all kind of really neat, and cool ornaments, bird baths, whirlygigs, fountains, place them all around the hole, make it look festive, look nice. (we all know the hole is still there)

 so many options, as usual the proper chapters are left out of the guide book, our 'helping friendly book'


 what i think is that you have to honor the hole in your garden,
acknowledge it, but don't fall in.
 (a wise woman once warned her friends and family to keep their eye on a certain husband to make sure he didn't just go into the hole and pull the dirt down on top of him)


 i think the only option is to honor the hole, not decorate it, or fill it in, it will be there forever.
 the seasons, the weather will soften the edges of the hole, make them look less like a scar in your garden, and more like just part of the plan.


 you can find other plants that could become the new important plant, but that takes time.
 and care, very special care.


 it's hard to plant something, next to a big hole...
 the tendency is for it to kind of encroach on the hole, and care must be taken to make sure that doesn't happen.


 no matter how important the new plant, it is not there to replace the one that is gone,
 it cannot replace the missing one, and shouldn't.


but it can grow and prosper, and compliment the space, eventually casting it's shade and cover  to you, and to the the vacancy next to it in the garden.


 or maybe i'm nuts?
 (or else i've dug myself into a hole that i just can't seem to write myself out of?)


 oh well,
 maybe next entry won't take so long.

Welcome to my world (view)

so, why all the religions?
and why do they all hate each other so much???

i remember hearing the old story, people loved god, wanted to do something special for him.
(does god have birthdays? did they know it was coming up and wanted to surprise him?)

they all decide to build a giant tower up to see him.

good idea.

god looks out his kitchen window, see's what is going on, has the same reaction our moms had when they saw us in the backyard, with shovels, trying to dig a hole down to china.
well, a similar reaction, our mom didn't make us wake up the next day all speaking a different language!

so, no one can communicate, they all kind of stumble around until they find the people who are speaking the same lanugage as they are, then they all go off and start new cities and such.

great story, supposed to teach us...
well not exactly sure on that one.

but, for our modern world, to me anyway, the story ended too soon.

so all of these people roam off, start up their own societies, and speak their new langauge and have to kind of start from scratch.

so, god, being all knowing and all loving, kind of figures out that all these new societies will kind of look at things diferently.
(kind of like why do we english speaking people need 26 letters to say the same things that hawaiians can say with 12, or 13?)

god didn't want to punish everyone, he just wanted them to stop building that darned tower.

so, when they make up their brand new societies, and their brand new rules and such, they also come up with their new religions that are easier to understand in the new language.

so, there still seems to only be one god, but there now needs to be new religious practices, and mythologies, that can nestle comfortably into the new societies.

god solves the problem, the tower is stopped, everyone wanders off and kind of starts over.

so why, if we don't mind there being different languages, do we all of the sudden come up with the idea that "my religion is the one true religion and everyone else is going to hell"?
(that's always been one of my favorites, can you condemn someone to hell who doesn't believe in it? where the hell would they go, the quad cities?)

we don't hate people because they speak a different langauge, but we sure as hell want to kill them for not believing like us!

and for the most part, fancy stories and mythologies aside, don't they all just seem to say we should be nice to each other and not screw stuff up?

will the prayer circle be unbroken?

why do bad things happen to good people?
was a book, i think, or close to one.
but it's one of the biggest questions i've been hearing lately.

"oh no, not her" people say, like being good, wonderful, well liked, should keep bad things from happening.

so, bad things happen, to absolutely wonderful people, and everyone wonders why god can allow it.

but then, the prayer circles spring up!
(kind of like witches dancing in the moonlight? don't know)

how does this work exactly.

god, all knowing and all that, should know who is good and who isn't.
(hell, even santa knows that)

so, somewhere there is a disconnect, and good people have bad luck, bad health.

but then, as if somehow it will change events, up pops the prayer circles.

as if god, not realizing just how wonderful someone is, needs a reminder.

kind of brings back memories of high school, prom week.
the vote for prom queen!

is there an "opps" factor in heaven?
a lit up board above god's desk?

"oh, wow, look at the numbers, i let that one get sick, and i didn't realize how many people liked her.
look at those nubmers, the vote is really piling up.
maybe i should fix this...

oh wait, nope, last minute surge in st. louis for that other one!"

what does it all mean.

hell if i know!

buddhist healing mantra, for jackie

Tayata
Om Bekandze Bekandze
Maha Bekandze
Radza Samudgate Soha

The mantra means:

May the many sentient beings
who are sick,
quickly be freed from sickness.
And may all the sicknesses of beings
Never arise again.