It's the Little Things

How freaking petty can you get? It was just a bottle of Perrier. Why did that piss you off so much? It wasn't as if she asked for your last bottle of San Pellegrino.

When you were working, you would have gladly given a friend the last bottle of whatever in your fridge without a second thought. You’re ordinarily generous to a fault; why get so uptight about someone coming in your house, opening your fridge and asking for the not last bottle of your best water?

Money’s tight, living on a budget takes discipline. You went to San Juan spending money like a drunk, so it’s your fault you were down to the last three bottles of mineral water for the month.  

You’re not letting this go; why? It was only a bottle of water. You make spritzers with the mineral water and juice when friends visit. Why is this different? Don’t you think you’re making something out of nothing?

Yeah, this is a stupid little shit nothing. Granted mineral water is expensive at twenty bucks a case, but you serve it to your friends all the time. What’s so different?

Being on a fixed income I offer my guests the best I have when I have a full supply or can afford more. Sometimes I offer mineral water; that’s a flush month. When times are tight, I offer the filtered water I drink when I’m home. Had I not been occupied with another friend; I would have offered her a glass of my filtered water because finances are crap for me at the moment.

So am I really being crabby about my lack of handling my finances better? 

Kirt would have told me to open up my mouth and tell her to have some filtered or regular bottled water that I was running low. What was wrong with me that I didn't do that? His feedback kept my head on straight; what am I going to do?  

Sights N Sounds of a Widowhood Side Street

Recently, I ran into a woman I hadn't seen since I was fat and happily married. “You look so wonderful,” she chirped. “Really, you look marvelous; what are you doing? What kind of diet are you on?”

“No diet,” I replied.

“Seriously, you have to be doing something. You look so good.”

“My husband died last year. I've had no appetite.”

She knew he passed. I saw her shortly after. Mourning will do that; she should understand. She sent me a condolence, surely she knew why; didn't she? Sometimes I find it so difficult to be sweet. Attempts to mask my pain fall short on me. I thanked her and walked away.

This conversation opened the door to my sorrow, so I sat on a ledge overlooking the ocean collecting my thoughts.

A few years ago I saw a friend some months after her husband died. She’d lost a lot of weight also. As long as I’d known her, she’d been fat like me. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She looked so little and fragile, somewhat broken. Behind wire rim glasses her eyes looked huge, like a deer’s.

Never before had I seen her as tiny and cute. My emotions conflicted between wanting to tell her how good she looked and sadness for the lost little girl I saw. This dichotomy disoriented me. She still attempted her standard: it’s no big deal, I have everything under control persona.

Damn, it’s my turn on the other side of that equation.

God, you give strange, yet wonderful gifts. I’m still thanking you for that man you made to be my mate, and have finally forgiven you for taking him away. 

Relationships Harmony, Hmmm

Relationships are never easy for me. Dealing with myself is difficult enough without embracing a strange soul’s behavior. God, how quirky you've made me.

Love’s goal, our highest ideal offers challenges at every turn. With one human being I managed love. We knew each other, accepting faults as part of package. That didn't come freaking easy, but we did it. All I wanted was to be with him, pushing his wheel chair or in his hospital room; it didn't matter.

One Sunday you took him and that life away from me. My niece called it a new chapter for me to write. She’s a good girl. I wish I knew her better. 
The one person with whom I achieved a truly loving relationship died despite all of my efforts. My heart and soul are traumatized, battered into what?

I still don’t know, but finally calmed down enough to look around without frantic fear lost in space deer in a head lights, oh shit on my face. So God, I’m here for a reason. Right?!

What is it? Forgive me if I’m too stupid to figure this out. Whose idea was it that humans only use 10% of their brains? Okay, bottom line is I have difficulty with my concept of God, the Universe, or the big parent of it all. I've had your help in the past, so I do believe, but I don’t get you.

Perhaps it a question of harmony; Kirt and I became harmonious over a lifetime. When I quit bouncing off other beings, I may have my answer. Shit, this sounds so hard.

Today I will practice gliding, being in harmony with myself, not bumping into other beings. The lesson for the day shopping in harmony, egad; I’m going to the mall. 

Widowhood Phase Two or 15 Months Later

Days filled with activity live better than those uncluttered. No matter how beautiful the scenery, sadness is my background. Darkness slipped into the window in my head. It tiptoed across the bottom corner. In the depth of my sorrow I saw it. Warning! My subconscious said.

Life as I knew it, loved it died; how could it get worse? Worse how? I die; bring my relief. And yet, that void scared me, even in the depth of my grief. The possibility of my life spiraling down the hopper gave me something else to think about whenever I had a lull in thoughts of my honey, my husband’s death.

When happily ever after ended, I felt stuck in the you don’t know what you've got until it’s gone, but I did know what I had. We found love, polished and took care of it for the most part.

Realing with few things to disrupt my morass, the lurking void frightened me out of chaos. Not to over-dramatize, but this was the dark night of my soul and darkness in a sinister cloak infiltrated broken defenses.

Have you ever met a bitter widow? A woman previously benign becomes so mean that you think of her in terms of hell on wheels has been taken by this void.

My heart ached when I’d see old couples in the mall, remembering when my honey and me used to be. One day I stared at a woman, who looked a little impatient with her old guy, with savage hate in my eye. Where the hell did that come from? Another look told me the woman did not deserve that; it came from me.

The first step to Motherfukerville begs a second, before you know it a capped conductor welcomes you with All Aboard!!

A plan with goals, that’s what I needed. I always handle things better when I have a plan.

My sweet man required much of my time for so long that without him I had little to do. As the lone survivor, I deserve some care. Taking better care of me, a concept whose time arrived, seemed strange, but in a good way.

Goal #1 Personal: I joined a gym. A ton of toiletries followed me home. Even the bags under my eyes felt threatened.

Beach front parking for gym 

Goal #2: Be good to my dogs; the cat has me well trained.

Goal #3: Be the advocate the animals of Puerto Rico need me to be. As my darling Kirt would say, “Do something even if it is wrong.”

Goal #4: Write, my story is worthwhile. I must learn to write it well.

Goal #5: Living well isn't the best revenge; it’s the best plan. Learn to live my new life by applying the lessons learned; hold on to the love and be open to what the universe offers.

Days filled with activity live better than those uncluttered. No matter how beautiful the scenery, sadness is my background. Darkness slipped into the window in my head. It tiptoed across the bottom corner. In the depth of my sorrow I saw it. Warning! My subconscious said.

Life as I knew it, loved it had died; how could it get worse? Worse how? I die; bring my relief. And yet, that void scared me, even in the depth of my grief. The possibility of my life spiraling down the hopper gave me something else to think about whenever I had a lull in thoughts of my honey, my husband’s death.

When happily ever after ended, I felt stuck in the you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, but I did know what I had. We had found love, polished and took care of it for the most part.

Realing with few things to disrupt my morass, the void lurking in the corner frightened me out of my chaos. Not to over dramatize, but this was the dark night of my soul and darkness in a sinister cloak infiltrated broken defenses.

Have you ever met a bitter widow? A woman previously benign becomes so mean that you think of her in terms of hell on wheels has been taken by this void.

My heart ached when I’d see old couples in the mall, remembering when my honey and me used to be. One day I stared at a woman, who looked a little impatient with her old guy, with savage hate in my eye. Where the hell did that come from? Another look told me the woman did not deserve that; it came from me.

The first step to Motherfukerville begs a second, before you know it a capped conductor welcomes you with All Aboard!!

A plan with goals, that’s what I needed. I always handle things better when I have a plan.

My sweet man required much of my time for so long that without him I had little to do. As the lone survivor, I deserve some care. Taking better care of me, a concept whose time arrived, seemed strange, but in a good way.

Goal #1 Personal: I joined a gym. A ton of toiletries followed me home. Even the bags under my eyes felt threatened.

Goal #2: Be good to my dogs; the cat has me well trained.

Goal #3: Be the advocate the animals of Puerto Rico need me to be. As my darling Kirt would say, “Do something even if it is wrong.”

Goal #4: Write, my story is worthwhile. I must learn to write it well.

Goal #5: Living well isn't the best revenge; it’s the best plan. Learn to live my new life by applying lessons learned; hold on to the love and be open to what the universe offers.

Working on this plan is saving me from the abyss. Am I being a drama queen? Maybe, but the world doesn't need another bitter old bitch. Some days I feel good again, happy to be alive, enjoying this gift.

Recent anniversaries: 1st of Kirt’s death and 2^nd wedding anniversary without him knocked the crap out of me. The lows don’t rival the early days after he died, which doesn't reduce my… Misery comes to mind, but it’s an overstatement these days; unless you catch me on a bad day.

Days filled with activity are followed by nights slept soundly more often than not. I believe in karma so I know this to be penance. Please, God give me the grace.

Thank you to my friends. I am blessed with wonderful friends. I have love in my life thanks to my friends.

Thanks to my best buddy in his incarnation as Kirt.