Some days good. Some days not.

Beltane and the Moon of Mourning

Wednesday gratefuls: Kate cleaning the goop out of Rigel’s eye. Kate reading in the chair. Kate, “Fuck. What’s he done now?” About 45. Death certificates. (Didn’t think I’d ever be grateful for them. But, I am.) Ruth, who said in a text: “I like reading philosophy. It helps me see things from a different angle.” CBE. I mean, wow. These folks. Friendship, food, love, straight up love.

Sparks of Joy: Death certificates. Sunny beaches. (hah)

Kate’s retirement gift from me.

Grief grinds on. Got me last night around 3 a.m. The worries. What if I never get the death certificates? What if I run out of money? Triggered, I think, by recalling the day Kate said, halting with each word, “Death with dignity.” And, then asked me what I thought of her decision. “I hate it, because it means I’m going to lose you. But, I think it’s the right decision for you.”

The pain of that moment has no parallel in my life after agreeing to let mom go off life support. It sears me, like looking into the sun. Letting go may be right, may be compassionate, may even be noble, but goddamn.

However. Got a call from Evergreen Mortuary at 8:50, about 10 minutes ago. Genevieve. I have the death certificates.

See. Moving into the future, even by a few hours, creates unnecessary chaos in the heart. I couldn’t have done anything about them at 3 am anyhow. And, I knew that. I think, to avoid the memory, I moved to worry. Not. A. Good. Decision. But, also. Be easy with yourself, dude. Because, grief.

Wondering if I’m going to be gone too long. 40 days. And, 40 nights. Good enough for wandering Jews. Good enough for me? I want to rest, restore. Recommit myself to healthier living. Talk with Joe, Seoah, Mary. Play with Murdoch. Swim. See Oahu.

Wouldn’t really wonder if it weren’t for the dogs. I hate to leave them for so long, though leaving them at home eases that burden. I think Emily will be good. Seoah liked her and Joe said he trusted her judgment about people. Just pre-trip jitters, I think. Gonna leave it alone, go.

Mark Koontz called. He’s the gardener/landscaper I’ve contacted to extend the purple Iris bed, plant some lilacs, and do a 5 foot no-ignition zone around the house. He’s coming by on Friday. Maybe he’ll do the work while I’m gone and I’ll come back to a modestly changed yard.

Tasks are the easy part. Doing. Becoming is the hard part. Becoming a new person. A widower. Single. Living by myself with the dogs. In Colorado. Dizzying when I consider those changes alone. There is, though, a taste of excitement, adventure. Never has the canard, It’s the first day of the rest of your life, held such power for me.

I feel lighter knowing I can get death certificates to those who need them. That will free up money, banking accounts, retitle the house and car, change my pension, and our social security accounts. Significant stuff for daily living.

June, 2013

 

 

 

 

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