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Sunday, July 25, 2010

Without a Net - Bitter Air

You know, no one taught me how to be a wife or a mother. Like most people, I started off a bit like a fish out of water, flopping around, sometimes gasping for the familiarity of my uncomplicated, past life. But slowly I adapted. I learned to breathe a little differently and things began to make sense and become "easy." The fish grew legs & lungs and stood upright, proudly taking on it's new environment.

The thing in my life I've always been most proud of is the deep commitment, love and loyalty my family has always been known for. It was always recognized by other family members, family friends, coworkers and even my own childrens' friends. We knew we had a level of dysfunctionality (who doesn't?) but we recognized it, embraced it and proudly were The Navarro's. We took in a number of our kids' friends & boyfriends/girlfriends and welcomed them in to the tight folds of our family and treated them as if they were our own. I think of many of those "kids" as family still.

So how is it that I'm back to being that fish? Flopping around, struggling for the cool water to take the place of the dry, miserable oxygen that has been filling me lately? What causes a family to fall apart? Was Al really the glue that held us all together? I honestly thought most of it was due to me and my unfailing love and dedication to my family. But it's turning out to seem that it wasn't me at all, I had fooled myself all these years. How else can I explain why my family has become something I don't recognize at all? Damn, it really hurts too. It's almost like the tears I cry lately are no longer just tears of grief for my deceased husband but also, for the seemingly "death" of my family. That's exactly how it feels. I feel like everything I've sacrificed over the years, every time I defended my children, every time I stood up for them and gave when there was no more to give, was all for nothing. It's like a slap in the face. Love and respect? I thought it was there for me. I didn't know it would disappear as if I don't exist.

Yeah, I put it here because I guess I'm too much of a coward to say this outloud. That would make it real. This is MY blog, MY raw emotions, MY pain. I'm entitled to feel what I feel. And right now, nothing feels right. NOTHING.

I don't feel like that little fish gently placed in a loving, little net and moved from one familiar tank to a strange one but still surrounded by those who mean the most to me. Yeah, more like a fish tossed roughly to the shore, all without a net left to let the bitter air burn me as I gasp and flop around.

But tomorrow is another day. I'll find a way to move past this feeling. What that way is, I don't yet know. But I'll be damned if I let Al "see" how scared I am for my family. We told him it was okay to go, that we'd be OK. Do you think he sees the truth?

Thursday, July 22, 2010

My confessions.....please absolve me of my guilt

Guilt. Such an ugly, nasty, hollow word. It conjures up images of cheating, scandel and inappropriate actions.

My guilt doesn't come from any of that. It's different but nonetheless, it's my guilt. Was I a Jew in a different life? Is that infamous Catholic guilt somehow embedded in me? It's there, there is no denying it. I am guilty. I don't ask for forgiveness. It is part of who I am right now. A widow. Huh? Wha? Widow? Aren't they old ladies dressed in black who mope around with hankies tucked in their sleeves? What the fuck. It's me.
  • I feel guilty that I'm here and Al isn't.
  • I feel guilty that my family isn't respecting Al's strong belief in his FAMILY and putting judgements and feelings aside to be just that....family.
  • I feel guilty that I try to avoid being at home so much because I miss him so much and don't like to be there without him.
  • I feel guilty that we're going to a family reunion for Al's side of the family and we were never financially able to attend while he was alive.
  • I feel guilty that I feel weird about even considering bringing his urn & ashes to this reunion as my sister-in-law requested.
  • I feel guilty that Al's high school buddies' annual golf trip wasn't what it should have been and they probably had some sadness during what should be an amazing, ridiculous, fun-filled, alcohol-infused golf-fest.
  • I feel guilty that I may have influenced his decision to go to hospice where he died so quickly. (omg, I said "died". Is it becoming easier to say that???)
  • I feel guilty that I've gotten to know his long lost son and he didn't have that opportunity.
  • I feel guilty that I'm going to Puerto Penasco next month and he'll never go again.
  • I feel guilty that I'm going to have a Tommy's burger when I go to LA next weekend and he'll never go there again.
  • I feel guilty that Brian doesn't have his best friend anymore.
  • I feel guilty that last year he told me he thought he was dying and I told him he was crazy and dismissed it all.
  • I feel guilty that I experienced my first crazy, monsoon downpour today and I know it was his favorite thing about summer.
  • I feel guilty that the pirate will never be heard again.
  • I feel guilty that I emptied out his medicine cabinet and threw away all his prescriptions.
  • I feel guilty that I'm sleeping on his side of the bed when it was his "protected territory".
  • I feel guilty that I'm getting air-conditioning in OUR house and he hated air-conditioning and swore to never have it.
  • I feel guilty that people who loved and cherished their friendship with him miss him and will never see his face again.
  • I feel guilty enjoying Big Brother, our favorite show that we loved watching together.
  • I feel guilty that he doesn't get to experience the joy of watching Isla progress, grow and change before our very eyes.
  • I feel guilty that he'll never meet Marshall's baby girl.
  • I feel guilty that he won't be there to watch all his grandchildren and future granchildren reach their milestones like kindegarten graduation, getting their driver's license and just watching them grow up.
  • I feel guilty that I'm sad because he would want me to be happy and not dwell on the fact that he's gone but rather be joyous over the life and love we had.

Oh hell. I just realized that this list is never ending. More wine please.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Really, over a AAA card???

Wow. I sure didn’t expect to fall apart over something so simple. About a month after Al passed, I began changing my bills over in to my name. Electric, gas, cable, phone, etc. I recently received our renewal for AAA. I called to change the account to just my name, remove Al and make me primary, thus decreasing my yearly bill. No problem – they took care of it and said they would send me a new card as account holder. Got the new card in the mail and opened my wallet to rifle through my little stack of various cards….my AAA card, Al’s AAA card….toss ‘em in the trash….couldn’t release my grip on Al’s card….couldn’t throw his card away. Then I started to cry….OVER A DAMN AAA CARD. I feel like I’m slowly removing everything that is and was Al. Soon, all I’ll have left will be memories and pictures. I don’t like this, I don’t want this, I didn’t sign up for this. It’s not fair, damn it.

I had drinks recently with a work friend (male….all very innocent, I assure you) who also lost his partner very recently, actually more recent than Al’s passing. His girlfriend of seven or eight years lost her battle with her disease and he finds it difficult to get through some days and needed to find someone who understands what he feels, someone who is going through the same thing, someone who might be a sounding board when he’s having a particularly rough day. We had a really great time, talked about things in general touching on each of our losses, laughed a lot, drank a bit and said we’d do it again. Towards the end of the evening he admitted that he wants to move forward and is ready to start dating again. I admire him for being able to take that leap and get back out there and find companionship and someday, love. But I’m a million miles away from taking that step. In fact, I don’t see it happening for a very, very long time….if ever. I’d been with Al since I was 18 years old. I basically “grew up” alongside him. I mean, he was by my side from young adulthood when it was just the two of us, through the birth and raising of three amazing children, through the empty nest syndrome, to accepting and loving that we had returned to a life and household with just the two of us. We had really begun to settle in and were definitely renewing our love and commitment to each other. So many plans, so many dreams, so many things for me to keep in my heart. Think I’ll be content to just be the mom, “Masita”, “Grandma”, “Gramamma” in my family for now, maybe forever.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Hope, Love & Remembrance

I've always known about the hospice Celebration of Life services that Peppi's House holds each quarter. I've always worked for a TMC executive that would receive the invitations to attend and I guess I pretty much paid very little attention to these so called celebrations. That is until I got one at home. I remember seeing the envelope in my mailbox and subconsciously knew what it was. But it caught me at a vulnerable moment so I set it aside and didn't open it for a day or two, finally opening it and actually throwing it away. I thought about it and knew it was the last thing I could handle. Didn't those people know I've been avoiding putting myself in situations where I may openly cry and grieve for my husband?

Well as it would figure, my kids all received the same invitation and Alison & Lesley encouraged me to attend with them. I agreed but felt kind of nervous about the whole thing because seriously, avoidance seems to work pretty well for me. They reminded me the morning of the celebration and I asked Marshall to attend too. He said he had to work but would come by when he got off.

I was nervous going in and the girls were right by my side feeling the same. We got to the conference center, signed in and were greeted by one of the volunteers I've known for many years. She asked if we were there for someone, maybe my father. I told her no, my husband passed recently in Hospice and we were there for him. I saw a tear in her eye and she got up and hugged me. And so it flowed. The tears rolled down my cheeks and I wasn't even in the door! We put our framed picture of Al playing golf on the table with the other pictures of loved ones who'd recently passed and then sat down. The celebration was actually beautiful and opened with an emotional, ethnic, haunting type of song performed by a trio all dressed in white with the main "chanter" reaching all of us with his rhythmic song and all-feeling/seeing spirit although he was blind.

The celebration finished off with the reading of each person's name who had passed in Hospice over the quarter. Family members of the deceased (ugh, still hate saying that!) would come forward when their loved one's name was read and they would light a candle from the single candle of hope, love and remembrance that was at the front of the room and carry their candle back to their seat until each person in the room was holding a lit candle. As the names were called out Alison, Lesley & I grew nervous as they neared his name. And then there it was. Alfonso Navarro. It hit us like a ton of bricks. He's gone. His name is included in the list of those who are gone. Really? Is this what he has become? A name in a list? A name where no more moments in life will be added? That's it. No more funny stories, no more silly songs, no more wrapping his arms around us, no more telling me how much he loves me and how my love saved him, no more. The three of us rose nervously from our seats and walked single file to the front and lit our candles. "I love you Al" came from my mouth and the girls murmured something similar. At the end of the reading of names, the chaplain asked if anyone else would like to come up and light a candle. The girls each got up and lit a candle for Al for Marshall and Peter. Marshall arrived as the service was ending and we gave him his candle and program. Peter got his when I got home.

I am so sad for the lives of those whose names were called and no one came forward to honor them and light a candle of hope, love and remembrance. But those people meant something to someone. We all mean something to someone. So cling to that. Even in our darkest hour, we are all special to someone. Maybe years ago, maybe in a way we never knew but we existed and we impacted someone's life....somewhere....sometime.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Batshit crazy or normal?

Do you ever wonder what it is that brings people together, that makes them connect to each other? I'm thankful for those people who come in to my life, many times they come to me through work. After all, it's where we spend most of our waking hours. I had dinner with one of those people tonight. I'm old enough to be her mother but I don't think she sees me that way, just like I don't see her as young enough to be my daughter. She's someone I know I can trust, someone I can tell stuff to (work or personal) and she "gets it". In her way, she makes me feel less crazy when I tell her some of my random stuff by giving me examples of how she's crazy too. Either we're both batshit crazy or else we're completely normal. I prefer to believe the latter.

I left dinner to meet my daughter Alison and one of her friends. I've known this friend for many years, dating back to Alison's junior high days. I never really "knew" her like I knew some of Alison's closer friends from back then but I always liked her. She and Alison reconnected a while back and Alison thinks the world of her. This sweet girl "friended" me on Facebook and I've enjoyed following her life and funny quirks. Because all three of my kids have a rather large circle of friends that are all intertwined, I've seen this girl on rare occasion at a party here, a wedding there, etc. When Al died, she sent me a wonderful message of comfort. This person ...this amazing girl...brought me such comfort tonight. Sure, she made me cry too (Three years???? Really???) ~ but she is so genuine and caring. It's obvious that her heart is true and real. You see, she has been through more than her fair share of pain. She has been through a horrible family tragedy and come out on the other side, dedicating her life and future to helping people who struggle with what her family has gone through. She reminded me that it's okay to hurt, to cry, to WANT to feel and talk about memories of our lives before our world as we knew it was forever changed and frankly, fuck those who judge you for it. What we feel, is what we feel...no apologies.

So don't be afraid to let go and give a little piece of yourself to someone. You never know, that five minutes of caring and compassion could lead to something you didn't expect. A connection with someone who's walked the path you're walking. What you give, you'll get back tenfold.