Heart Breaking

 

Our hearts can break in so many ways over the years, can't they? Heart breaking is an odd term. A heart can't break, unless it's a heart attack, not emotionally triggered. Though interestingly, the pain can be located near the heart or clench the stomach or go painfully silent with shock as in a brain freeze.

My freshly demented friend came up to my apartment the other night. Her phone wasn't working and she was in pieces.

It turns out it needed a pin number to fire it up. And she had tried many times with various numbers to do so until it shut her down for too many failed attempts. I was "the genius" who could sort it out for her.

I told her we would have to wait 2 hours to try again and I could make coffee and to please tell me the pin number so I could open it for her then. She looked at me, baffled. I wanted to burst into tears. Once upon a time, she was a marketing manager for a large firm, handling government contracts. Three years younger than I.

I said we can't open it without your pin. Please try and think of the four digit number.

Blank. She wanted to access her bank app and had brought all the gear with her, blank cheque, bank card, note from her bank giving her a temporary password to access the app which telegraphed she had had a similar issue with the bank app.

Use that, she instructed me. I said no, this had a long alpha numeric sequence and all we needed for the pin was four numeric digits to get into the phone itself. She read off this bank password again. I jogged her by telling her, her date of birth, her daughter's date of birth?

"I can't remember those!" she laughed.

Maybe tomorrow take the phone to the place where you bought it? I suggested, they could probably crack into it for you?

"I don't want them in my bank account" she huffed.

Slowly I explained to her the difference between accessing the phone itself and accessing the bank app. She smiled at me as if I were a half-wit shaking her head.

And I despaired. I am totally at a loss that I was never at with L my friend who also descended rapidly into dementia and has been in a care home for several years.

I honestly can't believe how rapidly S has descended. 

I phoned her the following day and she had absolutely no recollection of the hours she had spent with me the night before. I said, your phone is fixed? "What?"she said,"It's not broken."

It's frankly terrifying. And I'm lost as to how to help.

Edit: Added later

Tonight, she buzzed me on my intercom and arrived in my apartment with a brand new phone (!!). Her granddaughter had set up the new phone and wrote down the passwords but NONE worked. I think her phone provider has scammed her by selling her a new phone. And her granddaughter should know better and have tested the passwords before releasing her into the wild. Needless to mention I don't have her granddaughter's phone number and neither does S with her phone not working.

Stalemate and I'm exhausted. She stayed about an hour but she can't keep track of any conversation. Even a minute later. She wants to return the new phone fpor "not working". I'm hoping her family are realizing she is seriously cognitively impaired. 

Holding Firm

 

I am goodly. I am avoiding all the podcasts, all the streaming, all the substacks and all the newspapers.

Politics can be a total addiction and I see that clearly now. I wasn't addressing some real issues in my life like another long term friend with dementia and the resulting void in my life that now exists. She was one of my first friends in Newfoundland and was instrumental in getting me into her building (there was a huge waiting list - still is).

I decided to go back into therapy after my doc expressed some concern (again!) that talking to someone might help me.

She got me in to see one lickety split (the following day) and I am thrilled that there was an immediate click with him. In the past I've had a few really poor ones but was canny enough to dispense with them. I was also fortunate to have excellent wise ones.

I realized when talking with him, that things had really shifted for me emotionally last November when I nearly died and my brother died two days later. I also realized that in Newfoundland I have one close friend (now in dementia) but the rest of the friendships were more transactional. And that I hadn't shared this massive loss and its impact on me with anyone. A few times I tried but in one case the friend walked away.

So my conclusion also was that I used politics to fill that massive emotional void. And I could feel myself slipping away.

So onward into a better emotional outcome for me. 

I feel lighter already.

Missing

We had a LOT of snow and I was captivated by the melting centre of the window, itself shaped like a tree.

Andrew wrote about the losses of those we love a few days ago. I had been thinking about that on and off for the last few months having brushed close to the grim reaper myself - and this was not the first time either.

Lately the loneliness has struck me, all the close friends gone, the interesting, lengthy conversations, the extended stays in my house, the pick up of conversations started some time ago as if there were no break. Ideas tossed back and forth, meals cooked together, trips taken, scrabble games, books mailed and read and emailed on. Art reviewed, knitted items made and gifted, tribulations of life shared, sometimes on a daily basis, broken hearts nurtured and healed. Memories relived over and over. New adventures shared. "Remember whens?" relived and fresh little details offered up like Christmas gifts, old friends brought back to life by those outliving them.

And on it goes.  New friends are not the same, the shared history is shorter, the not knowing them in comparative youth and energy. I find it hard to imagine the youth in those elderly faces I see, the romances or the prettiness or handsomeness. And I imagine they only see the old in me too.

I miss them all, the shared confidences of times past, the remembrances of battles fought and won (or lost). But most of all the laughter and the trust and unwavering support for each other, reminders of life back then, of loves back then, of successes back then, of movies and theatre and operas and symphonies.

My orchids never fail to enchant me.

Don't get me wrong, please. I don't spend that much time thumping my chest and bemoaning the past. This is just something I haven't seen written about much. The absolute loneliness of old age when you outlive most of your friends and outliving a beloved partner would also be the same, I would think.

I would point out that making new friends is difficult with the limited capacity of being old, especially with physical challenges. Having uncertain days, joining a new book club or getting season theatre or concert tickets would involve commitment which my health challenges would not allow. Especially in winter. I am always aware of descending into constant "organ recitals" and I have to apply those brakes to myself when I find I can't wait to plunge into a conversation about all my ailments. I mentally slap myself in time. Usually.

Waking Up

Dear Diary:

I am wondering at myself for the past few months there. Wondering why I was not picking up the phone when a friend rang or responding when they texted requesting a lunch date, sometimes white-lying a text back saying I was "too busy," sometimes white-lying further and inventing something.

Lying down for a nap today the phone rings from a friend who's supposed to be on a 3 month cruise, I don't pick up and I lay there and thought, what the hell is going on with my non-answering such calls.

And then the bells went off and I realized that 99% of all recent friend contact made to me out here on The Rock is someone requesting something. With the exception of family and friends from the good old days. 

I wasn't mistaken today. Cruise friend had left a message saying she was leaving on October 1st and there was a new urgency in her life regarding the book I had been helping her with (a memoir) . Apparently she had shared the contents with  a friend and the friend had gone ahead and written her own memoir on the same theme and now maybe I could edit the remaining chapters while she was gone and then fire it off to a publisher forthwith as there was a rush now.

Note there is no offer of payment even though a 3 month cruise must cost a fortune. 

I should add she's not alone in these types of requests. I get request for all kinds of free help, writing, editing, accounting, financial and taxation advice. Usually prefaced with "You're so good at this and it will only take you a few minutes." Note upon requesting the free work they also devalue it.

I took a long hard look at myself after playing this message and thought why am I attracting these kinds of people into my life?

Obviously I'm a people pleaser. But when most of my relationships are transactional in some hidden way it makes me stop and reevaluate all of them. A lunch is cheap when you're looking for hundreds of dollars worth of free work.

My energy is compromised as I have ongoing health issues but I note I am rarely if ever asked how my health is. Most commonly I am told "you don't look sick" or " you look full of beans to me." Why thank you, when did you get your doctorate?" I think.

This morning there was an email from someone who wanted a "bit of training" as she was now a treasurer of a group and had no experience with spreadsheets. I responded, of course before the bells went off in the afternoon.

I feel remarkably stupid for not seeing all this before.

I am currently doing paid work for a writer who respects me and pays me well. So there's the upside.

I need to spend more time with friends who want nothing from me, though they are often distant from me geographically. 

And any free labour from here on in is verboten.

Watch this space.  

Friendships

They become more precious as we age, we lose some and we gain some if we are fortunate. I still grieve the many I have lost to death, a couple to dementia, another long time one through intolerable disrespect and passive aggression.

We can hit breaking points in friendships. For me they have been rare and I'm grateful for that. One broke many years ago when she became angry at me for an offhand remark and she exploded at me in a café in front of others. She didn't speak to me for many years and then at a funeral of a mutual friend she came running into my arms and wept like a baby and kept apologizing for her over- reaction to my comment in the café. It healed the friendship and she said my remark had reflected her own truth about the situation but she wasn't ready to face it.

In another friendship I bore hostility until there was a breaking point. I was always making excuses for a particular friend. "She's having a rough time, I understand she's taking it out on me." "She's fierce odd, I know." But after many years of that, there was a breaking point, a wakeup call that I no longer felt  good around her. In fact, the justifications and excuses were becoming hard work and happening more and more. Chronic lateness for meetups, rudeness to other friends, snide criticisms "you're wearing that?" and on and on until something snapped inside me and I realized this long term friendship was serving neither of us well.

The long term friendships in my life I cherish and I realize the common element is kindness. We are kind to each other. Tolerant. Helpful. There are no hidden agendas. 

I also discovered in old age asking for help can initiate new friendships. I've always been reluctant to ask for help. But recently I mentioned I don't drive at night anymore and the offers of driving me astonished me. This has ignited a few acquaintances into becoming a little more. One is off to Bali for a few months (I know, I'm jealous too) but she told her house sitter, a mutual acquaintance, that I might need rides at night now and again and bingo I'm enjoying this connection now. People love to help. I always love to help. And did a lot of it when younger and older people wanted rides or company. It must be karma.

Blog friends are also wonderful. Sharing our journeys with each other. Writing and tracking each other's lives, our talents and foibles, our struggles and victories.

I truly believe friendships are sustaining us as we age, the daily check-ins, the emails, the WhatsApps, the Facebooks exchanges, the texts, the phone-calls. And yes, postcards, cards, letters.

After all, we are simply walking each other home.

Music and Friends: This is played at the end of gatherings here where everyone gets in a circle and holds hands. I always get emotional. And I do hope you readers outside Canada can see it. It is very, very Newfoundland.

A Huge Worry

Sometimes, I come right up against myself and realize some hard facts.

My best friends, there were only a few, are gone from my life. The ones I could share anything with without judgement or fear, the whole guts of me. And were supportive and loving and unconditionally there in times fraught with danger and minefields and, well, terror.

A massive worry has stalked into my life in the past few days. Involving a person near and dear to me. And in morning meditation today, as this leaped in and out of my head and tended to consume me, this fact of having no one close to share this with on a one to one basis stood starkly in front of me.

My birth family doesn't deal with any kind of serious issues. Everything is a joke. They never even ask about Missing Daughter or my broken heart. They never ask about Daughter's MS which has had a huge impact on her musical talent and crafting and over all ambitions. Health issues are swept under the nearest rug. If there are any family crises, you wouldn't know. I ask about theirs but usually a stinging silence is the answer. And shunning for no reason are an MO. Dysfunction Junction rooted in abuse. Understandable when one goes through the therapy to dig it out but most have not. They are the last people on earth I would run to for comfort in a storm. As trust and unconditional love are absent. Jokes would ensue and honestly? I couldn't bear them.

My good friend R, who is a harbour in any kind of emotional turmoil has had a recurrence of liver cancer and had another operation these past few days and is still in the hospital. Doing remarkably well considering he's down to a small piece of an operating organ now.

My BFF Helen who died in 2014 would have been a solid wall with great advice and most of all love and concern.

My friend D, who died in 2016 would have gently guided me in the right direction.

Lana would have been wonderful, but she's in the throes of dementia, as is another good friend, P, who worries me.

I have many acquaintances here but even reviewing a list in my head which one I could trust and lean on comes up with zero.

Niece comes to mind but I truly don't want to burden her. She has a hugely heavy plate with young children.

I can't be more specific, I'm sorry. I wrote a journal entry just now and am so full of fear I am throwing it out here too in the hopes of alleviating some of it.

And you know? Just writing it all down, one firm harbour light comes to mind just now.

She's at a distance, but I will call her today.

Friday Fumbles

A little note popped up in a knitting sketch book this morning:

"Why do people long for immortality when they don't know what to do with themselves on a wet Sunday afternoon?"

If I ever get to the end of my To-Do list it will be time for me to die.

Looking through some photos, this photo touched my heart. Grandgirl and Ansa laughing together on a rock from 2006. Try not to laugh back at them imagining the shared joke.

I fear for my friend L as her texting to me has stopped completely. Another friend ran into her and said she seemed terribly confused and shouldn't be driving. So she has worsened. I do hope her sons are monitoring the situation. The last text I had from her was her questioning if she should go into a seniors' residence. I supported that, of course. She is more than ready. I wrote about her here, our last time together, in 2018, in 5 parts.

I never tire of photographing the sea in all its thousands of moods. This one I took way back when L visited me here in Newfoundland and life seemed so much simpler then.

Home from Home

I have a couple of dear friends out here. I met him not long after I moved here permanently and subsequently met his wife. They live up a hill in the town where I was resident for 14 years and their gorgeous homey place became like a second home to me. She is a marvellous cook. Their dog Salty was great friends with my beloved Ansa. Salty was and remains a total gentleman. When Ansa arrived he would immediately cede his bed, his toys and his food to her and just about genuflect when he passed her. She was a very humble dog by nature, totally non-aggressive, and would take his grovelling overtures with a slight sense of entitlement and then turn her back on him as she enjoyed his treats. This courtship gave us a vast amount of amusement.

I spent the night out there last night and we chatted till 3 in the morning, dissecting politics and world news, meandering into provincial and then into local and family politics. They are very well read and have keen analytical minds. I am included in their family gatherings and feel utterly blessed that they are like a brother and sister to me.

I am always at a loss as to how to gift them so I make or create things for they break the outer limits of generosity to me always.


I made this shawlette for C and called it after the spectacular sunsets of my former town. She was over the moon.

Here it is being blocked:

I brought B beautiful potted plants for outside. He loves his garden.

I brought Salty sausages, his favourite kind.

I slept in their tiny luxurious guest room on one of those high beds that you float into and then fall asleep instantly. I don't think I've ever known such an incredible bed.

We had sorted our worlds out both global and local and were much satisfied.

And I was completely spoiled.

Thin on the ground

Friendships can get thin on the ground as we age. I imagine mine are more precious and important to me in the absence of a significant other. Who do we we bounce ourselves off unless it's a friend, usually long term, usually a cornucopia of memories enriching the shared experience of our lives.

That's why it's such a shock when a long term friend, supportive, kind, carrying each other through a myriad of downers and uppers and inbetweeners comes out of left field with some rather appalling shyte yesterday.

For instance:

(R) M, you'd be far better off if you weren't so passionate about things, if you weren't so keen on feminism and politics and all that other stuff you do like writing. If you'd let all that stuff go and just confine yourself to a smaller world that would take far less energy, and you wouldn't get so worked up about stuff.

(R)I can think of all sorts of people who are mentally ill. We are far too tolerant of mental illness. For instance gays: gays are mentally ill. They are rebelling against the laws of nature.

(M)I don't know why you're talking like this. One of my children......

(R)Oh yeah, I forgot, one of your kids is gay.

When I am completely shocked I go into withdrawal mode. Yeah, I engage for a while but my bafflement and confusion takes a while to kick in. Usually long after the conversation is over. Today I am saddened and disheartened.

He has never spoken like this before in all the years I have known him.

When I am attacked at a core level, when my very spirit is attacked, the wound runs deep: has he always thought this way and didn't verbalize it? Had contempt for my passions and creativity? He knew and engaged with my gay child since she was 15. Is that how he felt about her for all those years?

Wow, I honestly feel as if I don't want him in my life anymore.

Yeah, I'm devastated and so very sad.

Blog Jam

This is a joke I posted on Facebook. I love jokes that are clever and clean and have a surprise at the end.

Laugh of the day~~~

"You're both in your nineties," said the judge to the elderly couple, "Married 70 years! Why would you want a divorce now?"

Said the old woman: " We were waiting for the children to die."

I have a film crew coming on Sunday to make a short film in my house as it is old and hasn't been drastically renovated but has the original exterior and interior. Interesting, I think. Now I'm thinking it's a huge disruption. Then again......

I had two rejection letters. How do you deal with rejection? I had loved these two submitted pieces, and so did others, so I felt rather very crushed and then got so busy later that I forgot to feel sad but now that I'm here at the end of the day I've got time to brood and flay and tell myself give up, I'm useless. So I'm writing here instead for the 4 or 5 that do read me and appreciate. Thanks guys.

Yesterday, I visited my friends whose daughter died and actually made them laugh helplessly about the first marriage proposal I received out here in the Far East. Have I told you I've had hilarious marriage proposals? I will some day. It could be a book. I always cry in my car when I leave my friends, I can't imagine their suffering. Now they are putting their daughter's Jeep and house on the market. She was only 40 and death stalked in, in the middle of the night, and grabbed her. A congenital heart defect. I discuss books with him, he's an avid reader of all things Newfoundland - he was a coast guard in his time - and make them both laugh. I don't plan it that way but I'm glad it works out that way when I visit. Getting out of bed is their enormous act of courage for the day.

I had this friend, well, she's more of an acquaintance. When I moved here she'd phone me about once a month. Strange conversations. She'd never a ask a question but would launch into a sort of list of people who'd let her down by not phoning/dropping in/not picking her up/not letting her know about events, etc. She had a stroke many years ago, I remember visiting her every day in the hospital, not an easy thing as the location of her hospital was both a subway and streetcar ride away from where I was headquartered then in downtown Toronto. But I knew visits to her would be minimal or zero from others during the day as she lived way out in the outlying suburbs and the hospital was in the west end. And there were other occasions too when I filled in as her caretaker on weekends away. All this to say, I was up against myself in dealing with her. I never felt close to her but I would still feel guilty, the stroke for one, and the fact she didn't establish deep friendships with anyone mainly because her demands never stop when you're with her. There are always extras you have to do and there is no acknowledgement of driving out of your way or picking up extra stuff along the route. And then guilt again for feeling like that. It's a vicious cycle. I dropped my landline months back and now I'm just on mobile. And of course she doesn't have that number. But lawdie, now she's phoned many of my friends to demand my mobile number but none feel they want to give it to her. So today she calls a buddy in Florida and he immediately puts her request for me to phone her right away on my FB wall. She is tenacious. And truthfully, normally I don't think about her at all. Guilt again.

So yes, I will call her. If I don't forget yet again. I need to brace myself. I don't wish for more friends to get harassed by her. There's none as queer as folks. If it were me, I would have given up long ago and put it down to disinterest and move on. But not J.

I take official possession of my home in the city tomorrow. Exciting times. Though I won't be moving there full time until the fall for there's a lot to wind down here over the next few months.

So new pastures, new opportunities await. Sadness too at leaving this little paradise behind.

But I'm ready.

Hangin' with my new friend.

Through a variety of circumstances which I won't get into here I'm spending a huge quantity of time with a 28 year old young woman. To my astonishment, we never run out of conversation and she has invested quite a degree of trust in me which warms my heart. I'd never met her before. And from an initial standoffishness I see how her face lights up when she sees me now and she introduced me to her 4 year old on the phone tonight. (She's lost custody of her babies)

She asks me intelligent questions about my life, how I came to this point, did I like being a mother, my job, my relationships.

She mentioned that she was going to a big birthday party for her grandmother in a few weeks' time and it was the first birthday she would ever attend for a really old person.

I asked her how old her grandmother was.

"Oh," she said, thinking for a minute,"70 or 80 I guess."

I guess we all look the same to the young'uns when we cross that old 40-50-60 mark.

But the sweetest thing, when I dropped her off at her parents' home tonight she says:

"Now you be sure to text me when you're safely in your door, k?"

I seriously can't remember when that was said to me last.

Diversion & Distraction

A view of St. John's, capital city of Newfoundland & Labrador, taken a few days ago by moi.

A friend of over 40 years standing came and visited me for 6 days. Which accounts for my lack of attention to your blogs and to my own.

She couldn't have timed it better as it was her first visit here and I pulled out all the touristy stuff within easy reach. The weather was kind to us and the pace was leisurely. Art galleries, fossil sites (oldest fossils in the world), Signal Hill (see view up above)and Cape Spear - the most eastern point in North America, to name a few. And oh yes Thanksgiving dinner chez moi thrown in there too. We had long conversations into the small hours catching up on all the doings that phone-calling and emailing don't quite cover.

Now that she's gone I am taking the day off to regroup. My new grief counsellor phoned me and we had a lovely chat, he right away went into a recent grief process of his own which resulted also in physical health issues and he won me over. So my first F2F session is next Wednesday.

I can't thank everyone out there enough for all the support, both private and on comments, that has been offered so lovingly and with such compassion.

My sometimes difficult and challenging passages through life are rendered easier because of you, my web gang.

You are truly the family of my heart.

Terminal Technology

So. I write to my friend who is, to all intents and purposes, terminal. In the hospital. With bags and tubes and discomfort and pain and anger and frustration and fear.

These are her wishes. This is her e-mail from last night exactly as written:

Not a great day

Cleaning draining

Dr visits

Intravenus injections daily now - no oral

Learned how to check blood

Endericonolist testing gor cancer now

Sugars still up but coming down

No visitors please right now

No calls

Cannot answer easily

Easier to communicate by email

I am not going anywhere

This is my reply:

I hope today is less painful for you.

I hope your spirit can take little journeys inside you to better places.

I remember an A-Frame near Tweed where we had such a happy weekend sitting by the water. I was knitting. You were cross stitching. And we talked and talked.

I still have your needlework (in a frame) hanging on my wall.

{{{{{Dxxxx}}}}}

I thought to send a shared memory every day. I think that would help me if I were her.

Who's to tell? Who's to know?

I know I wouldn't want anyone around me. Email is good. Very, very good. The right distance.

And PS - this blog is anonymous, otherwise I would never breech her confidence.

Jewels

There's something about good friends who come to stay.

Hard to define.

I've lost a fair whack of them in the last few years, so the remaining are very precious indeed.

So last night, just the sitting and chatting and sharing the "all-of-its" is better than a week at a spa with therapists hand and foot 24/7.

Ya know?

30 Days - Day 19

Before I start my day I lie in bed in the morning and do a mental survey. In spite of myself, my BFF Helen, who passed away in the past few months, springs to mind. I miss her more than words can say. Actually, truth be known, I can't find the words, the pain is so bad. I ask for her advice on challenging familial situations, like I always did. As she did me. But the answers don't come anymore. We were very good at "Remember when that happened and you did ......" or "you were such a star when you represented Ireland at Bridge....". Various validations of each other's worth. Self-validation is never enough, in spite of the gurus. Unless you're delusional.

My soul-friends are thin on the ground now. Many deaths. Others living far away. And here? I'm only known for the past 10 years basically. No historical setting for me. Just that I'm from magical Ireland and thus I'm viewed as if fairy dust was sprinkled all over me. No one wants to hear of the Ireland that betrayed me and mine in so many ways I can't even count them. How could I leave such a Utopia, they cry, baffled.

My lived experience, my truth, my very authenticity to use the fad word, is denied. Over and over again.

And there's something awfully lonely about that.

Room

It occurs to me that a deep friendship always boils down to a room. A sharing of one's space, planning breakfast, taking out the spare robe and slippers, laying the nice fluffy towels just so on the bed. None of these extra touches are necessary of course. The room is good as it is, stark naked as it might be. It's the space offered, the shelter from the storm.

A metaphorical "there's room in my heart." Yeah, sentimental, mushy old me. But think about it.

I was reflecting on my two recently deceased friends - how they always had a room for me, and I for them.

In my time of grief in Dublin in January, another dear friend most unexpectedly prepared my room for me. It was my second time staying there and it touches my heart that she always puts fresh flowers in my room. And extra blankies. This time, I hadn't expected to stay there at all as I had the use of an empty apartment in Dublin as long as I wanted. But she went out and got me underwear and a toothbrush and socks and lent me a nightie and insisted on taking care of me for 24 hours. An oasis in a desert of anguish and loss.

In sharing one's personal space there is the bonus of getting to know a person a little better, all sorts of topics come up, the books on their shelves, special lamps, the contents of the fridge, pictures on the walls, mementoes from Granny, music on their systems. Somehow, it makes them all the dearer to me, looking at their china, commenting on the cutlery or place mats or candles.

It's remarkable, this special room of friendship. It says so much about the beauty and warmth and depth and intimacy of kindred spirits sharing space and food and domestic conversation.
And I feel so very lucky that I have a few rooms on both close and distant shores where I can hang my hat.

And a few rooms to offer in return.

Laura

I don't think I can stand anymore.

Another friend, a very dear friend, dies this afternoon after a very brief illness. Yeah, her name was Laura. I've known her for nearly 30 years. She was 14 years older than me but we spent a lot of time together. Concentrated time as she'd moved away and I'd spend weekends with her and she stayed one time with me out here on the Edge.

I spoke to her last about 10 days ago. She'd had a few health issues but was recovering beautifully.

I posted the picture of the movie up there as we both loved that movie and we each had a copy.

The memories are crowding in on me now, so very, very many. We spent a huge amount of time together and she was enormous fun, I loved her laugh. She was dedicated to the colour purple and to a husband who typified the "Long Goodbye" - he had 20 years of Alzheimer's.

She embraced technology quite late in life and I loved her cheerful emails. And her cards. She'd find a card and think of me and pretend it was my birthday and send it to me. It became a long standing joke.

I did a post about her finding and loving a son she'd given up for adoption when she was 15 - 60 years later.

And I can't find it which distresses me.

It's as if I could hold on to her longer if I found it.

Healing Gifts 2

One might never meet someone or talk to them but when you do, pow, in the first 20 seconds you have an ease and comfort that is astonishing.

It was this way with a young woman who came up to me at the removal of my BFF from her home to the church.

"I know you. " she said simply.

"Yes," I said, "Of course. You're Gillian."

And we hugged and cried.

BFF had loved the ex-partner of her elder son's. Like we do. We hate to witness the breakup of our children with those we become fond of and whom we consider "ideal".  For us, the elders, perhaps, but not for those who move on.

Against the odds BFF remained close to Gillian as both her son and Gillian moved on to other partners and started families.

BFF was a tower of strength when Gillian ' s 1st daughter died at 5 months. I remember the daily emails from that period (BFF & I exchanged 1000s of emails). I had two miscarriages so understood a little of the grief and relayed words of understanding through BFF to Gillian.

So to finally meet her was wonderful. She adored BFF and was devastated by her death.

And the best news of all was that she's now the mother of two healthy little girls.

And yes, we're staying in touch.

Healing Gifts

Three to be precise.

The first is a very old friend and in the way of busy,  we lost track of each other. She had 6 children and I, single working parent pre-interwebz what does one do to sustain a palship?

She wasn't a friend of my now deceased BFF but felt driven to trek down to the south side of Dublin from her north side home to the funeral. She's never done anything like this in her life as she doesn't drive and finds the complicated 3 system transit necessary to do this daunting to say the least.

But she did it. And here we were today at Wynn's old hotel in Dublin catching up for 5 hours. Her children are all scattered, her husband dropped dead on the El Camino 4 years ago and she rattles around her big old house by herself. A traditional housewife,  she had to learn how to write cheques after her husband died.

I always knew even when she was 18 that she would be an Irish mammy. She always knew I was far too independent in my thinking to ever settle for that.

And you know what? After 40 years, the love was there, the openness and the honesty.

And yes, the laughter. And the memories she has of my beloved mum are priceless.

"I could have you come live with me forever," she says.

So next time I'm in Dublin,  yeah, I'll have her give me a test drive. Forever can change to never in a heartbeat.

There's something so healing about all of these events and that's just my 1st story.

Words

I have a clearer understanding now of the old expression "words fail me." The inadequacy of language to convey the depth of sadness, the never-agains of death, the disbelief, the overwhelming loss, the guilty rage of the eternal screaming of WHY?

Why not? Is flung back against me. Why do we consider ourselves and our beloveds so immune from the chilly skeletal fingers of the Reaper?

I am glad I returned to Ireland. Glad I was there for family and friends. Glad I let myself be comforted by dear ones. Glad to hook up with a long lost friend who showed up at the funeral with the dim hope I'd be there.

But the enormous loss. Words are completely inadequate.