what's the point?

Seriously. What IS the point? I don't know. I don't really care at the moment. I am tired of all of this crap. I am tired of all the painful stuff. It just keeps coming. There is no reprieve.
I don't know what the point is. The meaning. I just want to rest. I want it to be over. I am tired. Fuck. I am tired of fighting. I am tired of trying. It all just sucks anyway. It fucking sucks.

water park fun

We hung out at the waterpark today. The kids had a blast.
I enjoyed talking with Marnie and her mom...
and taking photos (Do I even need to say that?!).
I loved playing with the continuous shutter speed on my camera.
It makes for fun sequence shots of happy, fun things.

musical interpretations

I think I’ve always searched for the ‘real’ meanings behind the poetry in songs. Wondering what the song writer meant by a phrase or word is a bit like a word puzzle. I’ve enjoyed applying my perceived meaning to incidents and occurrences in my life.
Since Jeff’s death, songs that held meaning for certain happenings now mean completely different things. Songs that are most likely written about jilted lovers and affairs now seem to be written about losing the love of your life through death rather than infidelity. A single line in a song can bring on a fresh onslaught of tears…even when the song is about something completely unrelated to my current circumstances.
Lately, I listen to Maroon 5’s latest album and hear so many of the feelings that I am experiencing. I want to know what they were actually writing about. Cause it fits so many of the things that are happening here. Although, I am perfectly aware that Adam Levine is definitely not singing about losing his husband and the ensuing feelings.

farmer's markets and fishing boat dreams

I took the kids to one of the local farmer's markets yesterday. It was lovely to amble through the market checking out everyone's wares. We bought some produce.

And looked at all the clourful and interesting things that we are going to try to make at home...
We walked along the docks nearby.
It was both a beautiful and sad experience.
I loved all the colours, textures and smells of the wharf....But with each of these came so many memories of Jeff.
There are so many stories that Liv wants to relive. I do too. But, oh, it hurts to think about it. I want to hide from them for some reprieve at times.
I have been having incredibly vivid and intense dreams about Jeff. Not the beautiful and comforting dreams that I would love to have. Tortured and stressful dreams. At least they are not about the actual moment of his death, I guess. It's as if my brain is trying to experience every alternate experience except for his death now. I have dreamed that I was hiding from Jeff in a church. I could hear him coming and I hid under one of the carts that carries the coffin. Am I telling myself that I am trying to hide from him and the pain that thoughts of his absense bring?
I've had a dream that he was in jail in Montana. Weird? Oh yes. But I was trying to find someone to take care of the kids so I could drive to the jail and get him out. I needed internet access so I could figure out which jail it was in Montana. Why Montana? I have no bloody idea.
I had a dream that he called me and wanted to find out how much money was in the bank account because he was staying in some hotel called 'The Pacific Coast Cabana' with a girl named Maribu. I was a little bit pissed off that he had pulled this whole death scam on me but mostly, I was happy he was alive and really wanted to see him to make sure it wasn't someone just pretending to be him.
I seem to have one of these types of dreams everytime I lay down. I hate them. They freak me out and make my heart beat so hard that I feel like I have a pulsating egg stcuk in my throat when I wake up. I feel guilty for being the one who is alive. Why? I have no fucking idea. I just wish he was the one here with the kids. Maybe he wouldn't be as messed up. Maybe he could live a semi-normal life without me. I don't know but why am I the one left behind?

no more wishes

Since Jeff died, I don't 'wish' anymore. Partly, it is because there almost seems to be nothing to wish for. But mostly, I really don't want to wish. I am afraid of the wishes that I'd make on fallen eyelashes, birthday cakes and 11:11...When Jeff died, in a horrible and twisted fucking way, they came true. I wished to lose a bit of weight....I can fit all my pre-pregnancy clothes again now. I wished Jeff would quit fishing....He isn't fishing anymore. I wished certain bills would be paid off....some bills that were in his or the business name are gone with his death. There are more but I just creep myself out...
Needless to say, I will never wish again. Wishes do come true. Just definitely NOT how you want or expect them to. If I had thought this would happen, I would have wished that Jeff would be alive forever....Maybe, in some way, he is? Maybe I shouldn't have wished that afterall. I would want it in the physical sense. Not just the spiritual sense....Argh. This makes my head ache.

friday already?

Liv came home last night. Three days without her were mellow...but a bit too quiet. She had a fabulous time with Oma. Water parks, nature sanctuaries, dinosaur IMAX movies, double decker bus rides...a very special time. I found it hard to entertain Briar at times without his favourite buddy running around. He didn't sleep well without her closeby. Consequently, I didn't either. I was determined to have both of us sleep well last night. So I took Briar everywhere I could fit in yesterday. Errands in the AM. A short nap in the car. Groceries, etc.

Then a trip to the beach. Followed by a long walk in the woods. Dinner and bedtime by 6:30pm. I fell asleep at the same time and slept in my clothes all night long (not super comfortable in the AM).

Luckily, Robo is visiting and travelled down island to pick up a little homesick Liv for me. I went to sleep with one child in bed with me and I woke up with two little kiddos tucked under my arms.

I occupied my time while Liv was gone by sorting through toys. Finding missing parts, broken pieces, toys that haven't been played in eons, junky toys, etc. I've been packing some up to deploy to the local second hand store and the consignment store. Although I've taken five big boxes out of the house so far, it does not seem any emptier. It feels wonderful to get rid of 'stuff'....but it is hard to remove anything, even toys, that have any connection to Jeff. I know it's silly keeping a rubber ball with a chunk out of it only because Jeff was the one who got it out of the vending machine with Liv....but I still can't chuck it out.

I found it amazing to listen to Briar while we had our one on one time.
He seems to speak so much more fluently when liv's not here to translate. He doesn't have to rush to get it out and I am not as distracted at times. He uses words and phrases that I had no idea he knew. He's becoming a little boy. I wish Jeff could see him. He'd be so proud of both of them.

not so bad

I'm feeling a little better today. Although, as always missing Jeff, it's not as sharp today...or maybe just this moment. But I'll take it. Liv's going to go visit Oma for a few days. I miss her terribly when she's gone for even a few hours but I think it will be good for her to have some time to have someone's full attention.
We got two more chicks yesterday. They're big enough that they don't fit through the coup mesh...and into Freckles waiting jaws.
We've taken three of our four roosters to Penny's to live. I think we should by a lottery ticket or something. What are the chances of getting four roosters out of five chicks? I've kept the quietest and sweetest rooster for just a little longer so our one chicken, Lucy, doesn't get lonely. I hope the chicks are in fact, chickens and not infant roosters...

I saw this guy the other day. His poor shoulder was looking rather sore. I ho pe he's okay....but not willing to get close enough to check it out. *snicker*

second hand bullshit

I have a love/hate thing with thrift stores.
When I find something I need/want secondhand, I feel as my sister says," that I'm stickin' it to the man". I love that I'm not contributing to the overindulgent consumer driven machine. I get something that was already used and is now about to be used again.
The problem is that Liv loves thrift shopping too. She wants to buy everything...or at least some very ...absurd (in my opinion) things and then has a mega-meltdown when I don't purchase these things for her. (She once spazzed because I would by her a velvet drop waisted dress with poofy taffetta sleeves and skirt that must have been a woman's size 12 from 1983. She was going to 'grow into it'.)
I thought it would be fun to make a scarecrow. I let her decide if we were going to make a man, woman, OR child. She chose child - little girl. I let her pick the outfit. She chose an extremely neon bright floral dress with a dropped waist...I'm seeing a trend suddenly. I let her pick the hair colour. Orange yarn. Then, out of the blue, SHE wants the dress and wants to pick another dress for the scarecrow. In fact, she wants the dress, another for the scarecrow AND wants to make a 'daddy' scarecrow to be with the little girl. Fuck. Do I say 'no' because I can't afford it money or attention wise (two scarecrows is more than I can do right now) or do I say 'yes' because she wants to make a 'daddy' one because she misses Jeff. She freaks out. Cries. Plants her little feet and refuses to leave the store. Briar is getting upset because he wants to check out a different broken used toy from the shelf and wants out of the cart while he's at it. I'm afraid to make a scene because I am already fighting back tears...Our wedding song is playing over the loudspeaker.
It's these moments that I want to spaz too. A big hairy fit. Scream. Throw the fucking drop-waisted ball of tacky neon ugly dress and stomp all over it. Spit on it. Yell "What the fucking fuck did I do to create such a fucking bullshit scene?! I JUST WANTED TO MAKE A SCARECROW! I thought it would be fun for you!"
But I didn't. I swore under my breath. I thought nasty thoughts as I pulled the shopping cart with Liv hanging onto the side dragging her feet and Briar attempted to undo the seat belt. I glowered at the teenage gum-popping clerk as she slowly removed hangers and discussed which day she had off next with some of her friends standing nearby. I put the cart back. Pick up both kids. Stomped to the car. Buckled both screaming and flailing kids into the car. Locked the doors so Liv couldn't escape back to the cesspool of 80's dress rebirth. Put my head on the steering wheel and cried and swore. Thought about what a shit-ass mother I have become and that I am a total hypocrite when it comes to all my child-rearing beliefs. They're nice ideas. I just don't think I am capable of being this mellow zen mommy anymore. I'm a frothing, swearing, temper tantrum having, freak-show who has kids.
I don't think I'll be going to the second hand store anytime soon again. I'm going to have to go without a potato peeler, painting shirt, picnic basket, etc or just let the 'man stick it to me'....

poor little me

Life happens. Death happens. Sometimes I look at this terrible predicament that I hold in my lap and think this must be one of the very worst things that could ever happen in the history of mankind. When I get my self-absorbed head out of my ass, I look at this 'stone' and realize that in the Western world that I am so very lucky to be living in, that, yes, this IS awful and pretty near the worst I can fathom.

But in other parts of the world, this is happening everyday. Widowhood. The loss of your loved one. Your other half. Your support. Your best friend. But they also have to deal with a the loss of financial support to an even greater extent than I do. But they may also be dealing with the loss of their children. War. Rape. Starvation. Disability. Homelessness.

It makes my life seem like a cake walk. To me, it most certainly is not. It is not easy. It's terrifying and lonely. But I can climb into my bed at night, safe and warm. I can keep my children's tummy full of nutritious food. I have a capable body and strong hands.

I can do it. I can pick my sorry ass up and walk forward. I have to.

I should not feel sorry for myself. I should not lower my head to where I can't see the sunrise in the morning. I should not take inventory of all the things that are going wrong in my life. I should rejoice in another day. Another opportunity to learn. Another moment to love the ones that are still around me.

Even with all this realization and knowledge of how bad others have it, I still sit here and cry and wince at the thoughts that engulf my mind. I am not enjoying my life. I am not feeling 'lucky' that I don't live in a third world country. I am a selfish and self-absorbed shit who just wants her best friend back. A 'poor me' suck hole.

went there again

I haven't added a new post in the last few days as we were away...again. I took the kids and the dogs back to the old town where Jeff and I met. The kids are always up for an adventure but my main motivation was to get Eli up there one last time....and to feel surrounded by people who knew Jeff too and had memories to share. Bittersweet.

We went to the small local aquarium to check out the sea life with the kids.

It was very cool. Liv's favourite attraction was the octopus. They fed it a dungenous crab. It actaully took awhile for the octopus to be interested in this tasty meal placed in the tank. It just sat there initially (Did you know that octopus are nocturnal?) allowing me a view out the tank window....Fuck. The Whisky Dock. The dock that I excitedly ran down to so very many times to meet Jeff when they had landed. I looked up and out the window and get a little thrill of anticipation. His possible arrival. We saw a boat come in. Liv asked if it was Jeff's boat and if he was coming home. "I really wish, love," was all I could say.

Staring at that tank and the dock on the other side was a bit of torture. To sound just a tad dramatic, I could identify with that poor crab. Stuck in this small tank with a predator that you know is going to attack at any moment and drag you down. My captor isn't an eight legged sea creature. It's fear, loneliness and even the memories at times. Maybe this trip wasn't such a great idea.

My sweet friend, Jill, was with us, though. It's hard to not giggle when she's around. So I survived.

One of Jeff's very best friends, Robo, was spending the visit with us too. The kids love him like a favourite uncle and it's so calming to have someone else around who loves the kids almost as much as I do...and will happily chase them and play with them without me feeling guilty that someone else is doing 'my job'. We took the dogs to the beach to 'run around'. It was fucking heartbreaking to watch Eli. He so wanted to play. Freckles was bombing up and down the beach. Ziggy, Eli's best buddy for years and years when they were still pups, barked and roamed along the shore. Eli hobbled. Barked in frustration. Tried to follow Freckles out for a swim and had to be 'rescued'....twice. I've been thinking off and on about getting him a doggy cart. I do think he'd be able to get around when he had it on. But what about in the house. What about when I had to run errands and I couldn't attend to him like I would want/need to? What if he flipped in the backyard and I didn't find him until hours later? I want to keep him around. I don't know if I can handle losing him this year so close to the loss of Jeff...but I don't want him to have to suffer because of my situation. I wonder if I just need to be strong and help him to shed his poor broken body. I try to look at it from other people's eyes. To see it objectively. I can see both arguments. I can see a case for not saying good-bye to my pal just yet. He's not in pain. He still wants to run and play. But he doesn't like not getting around. He needs help in/out of the car/stairs/doorways. I always thought these things were cut and dry. I would murmur about it 'being time' when I thought I knew best because the person losing their pet had lost their objectivity. I don't want to do it too soon...for him. I don't want to let him down when it's inconvenient. But I also don't want to do it too late. When he isn't enjoying his life anymore. Will I ever really know? Are we really supposed to be the ones to make this call? Is letting 'nature take it's course' the right thing to do? He'd be dead in the wild if I did that now....

Luckily, my funny little ones inherited their wonderful father's terrific sense of humour. It's hard to dwell and mope when I have two little comedians as my tagalongs. I find the experience of our visit this time much less melancholy...although it has moments, it is different.

We went for dinner at one of the local restaurants on the beach. Liv so enjoyed the story of a date Jeff and I went on here. We were enjoying our dinner with another couple (I don't actually even remember who it was now) when Jeff suddenly got up from the table and walked outside. I watched him run down the boardwalk from this rather fancy eatery to the beach where he quickly stripped off his clothes (except for his underwear) and dashed into the ocean. He swam around for a few minutes and then reemerged colder but with a huge grin on his face. Everyone in the restaurant was transfixed by this odd behaviour and laughed as they watched him pull his clothes back on and come back up the boardwalk to finish up our date. He had tried to impress me and it had worked. Laughing does wonders for a newly budding relationship...actually all relationships.

return of the numbness

I don't know if it's normal to have the vague fuzzy feeling like thinking through a pillow re-emerge four months after a death happens. But it has. I feel as if I'm trying to catch glimpses of things as I spin in circles. I can see that things are there but the edges blur and smudge together. I'm late for things all the time...okay, even later than I was before. I can't keep my bloody mind 'on task' and forget where/what I was doing or going.
It was getting better. Maybe it was the large whiteboard that I stationed in the living room to help remind me of the obligations that need attending to. Maybe I was beginning to heal a minute amount (this is what I was hoping).
But whatever reprieve I had from the chaos and confusion of a muddled mind has ended. Fuck. It makes me crabby. I always think I am forgetting something (which I am) and I can't rest or let my mind cease the constant flurry of thought. It's a numb, yet intense feeling. Like walking barefoot through really deep, COLD mud. Slow but sharp.
My only reasoning for this is that grief is not a steady road upward. There are twists, setbacks and road-blocks. I've hit a big-ass speed bump.

home

We're all home from our week away. The kids spent the weekend with my mom and I headed up alone to the town where Jeff and I met. Fell in love. Had history and many stories. Our town.
The last time I was here was the day before Jeff died. I picked him up and brought him home to go to the doctor.
I avoided the dock where the boat had been docked that day but visited many of the places that contain so many memories...the lighthouse we went to so often in the middle of the night when I had finished my shift....
The pub where we met, that I worked at for so many years and the scene of many of our hilarious stories...
Went to some of the beaches with friends...
Watched some old favourite activities...
And scoped out various things that I remeber looking at with Jeff...so long ago...a different life, it seems....Now all alone.
I felt the lack of his physical presence constantly. I went out dancing with friends...it felt fake and forced. I enjoyed seeing friends. Trying to laugh. But I carried this cynical angry feeling with me as I watched everyone moving and laughing. I tried to pretend to be feeling the same things. The joy. The lack of loneliness.

Don't get me wrong, it was soothing to be there. Like coming home. Feeling wrapped in the familiar. So many memories to relive....
But feeling the hole where all the memories of our future together should have been...
I sat in places that he and I would sit and talk. Crying. Wishing he was with me. Wishing I could have prepared myself for the loneliness of my life without him before he was gone...and it was too late.

I know nothing could have prepared me in all actuality...But I would have sat here with him longer. I would have held his hand harder. Now there is just me. Just me and this lighthouse. In the wind and the sun. Not in the dark watching the strobe of light from tower, listening to the melancholy sound of the 'can-boy' off in the distance while coccooned within Jeff's arms and his jacket.
I saw some of the fisherman and boats that we knew. It was comforting to share the burden of the loss of Jeff with someone else. To have someone who missed him too be close to me.

Someone that I hadn't seen in about six months asked me how Jeff was. Fucking painful and awkward. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to have to tell the story yet again. But I did. I tried not to cry. I told him it was okay. He didn't need to apologize for not knowing. But I just wanted to leave. I wanted to curl up in my bed with my sweet little ones and sleep. Forget. Disappear.
But this difficult encounter was made up for by the constant presence of loving friends who I am so very grateful for...

The reconnection with dear old pals who I hadn't seen in awhile...
And the comfort from those who miss Jeff so very, very much as well.


I will go back 'home' soon now that I've 'ripped the band-aid off'. Liv wants to get up there too and see people we're close to. I want to bring my beloved Eli up there for one last visit to the village he and I spent so very many years in to get his big old paws sandy on the shore he loved to tear around on and to sleep on the lawn of our favourite restaurant while I eat my lunch on the porch.

It was a wonderful, bittersweet weekend. I'm glad I went...It was another 'first' I've conquered without Jeff. I am hoping that subsequent trips won't as painful.