Lost

"No one's ever lost forever

When they die they go away

But they will visit you occasionally

Do not be afraid

No one's ever lost forever

They are caught inside your heart

If you garden them and water them

They make you what you are"

from the song "Lost" by Amanda Palmer and the Grand THeft ORchestra from the album Theater is Evil

The Moon is Beautiful

4:30 in the morning.  It is nice and cool outside, I can see the quarter moon from my back porch over Georgia Highway 67.

A year after Natasha died, I decided I didn't want to be crazy any longer.  Coincidentally, it was also at 4:30 am that I had this epiphany.

I started going back to Alanon meetings.  At last night's meeting the topic was acceptance.  Halfway through the meeting, I shared that, so far, we had been talking about acceptance in terms of alcohol and the alcoholics in our lives, straight from the first step.  But I was thinking about the Serenity prayer.  In the first third of it, we say God grant me the serenity to accept the things we cannot change.

Acceptance is a gift. And it is a gift that we constantly have to ask God for.  I quit asking after Natasha's death.  It was too painful to revisit that everyday, sometimes many times in one day.  I felt I would be better off just struggling through.  It was not that I thought I could do it better on my own, I just didn't think I could do it at all.

That was kind of like turning up the radio, rolling down the windows, flooring the gas pedal and taking my hands off the steering wheel.  As much fun as it is to do that, it never ends well.

Another song I can't listen to without crying...

Watch "Cat Stevens - Morning Has Broken" on YouTube

today was because the gravestone setting for Natasha's plot.  The group that gathered together in the rain included Adrienne and her family from Boston, Matt, Mercedes,a large group of Nataha's friends and what of our closest friends could make it.

The pastor read a great poem that made me realize it was time to stop thinking about the awful things and start celebrating the gift that was Natasha's life.

I had to turn away when we sang "Morning has Broken.“ Afterwards, Mercedes gave everyone present a rock to place on the gravestone; I am keeping mine.

I was so grateful to see so many of Natasha's friends come. Her friends were one of the most important things in her life. These very beautiful young woman demonstrated to us how they have inspired so much loyalty as they comforted us and gave us some of Natasha's love.  Then they made us laught by telling stories about her teen years

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Good News

It turned out that my potentially new doctor was an even bigger tool than my present one so I decided to stay with the devil I know.  The guy took a phone call during our meeting, badgered me to hurry up, then abruptly ended the appointment, telling me to make a follow up.

Plus his office staff was really rude.

I will  say this for my present doctor, I needed to have five prescriptions refilled this week and his office got four out of the five sent to the pharmacy before they close of business.  Although, of course, all without returning any of my calls.

But, I said there was good news to be told and here it is:

I had asked for a consultation with a pain specialist and yesterday was my appointment.  I was there for three hours before I got to see her-all of that spent waiting.  The only reason I stayed that long was so I could give her a piece of my mind about leaving me waiting so long.

Anyway, I am glad I stayed.  Not only did she have some strategies to help me, she also thinks I can get along with out my AFOs!  It is going to take some therapy, time, and probably some sweat also, but WAHOOOIE!

In other news, I decided to attend the stone setting at Natasha's grave in June.  It will be nice to see Vermont, especially some dear friends there.

If the thunder don't get you, then the lighting will

Tomorrow is the second anniversary of my first hospitalization and since anniversaries are significant, I haven't been able to think of little else this weekend.  I have been grieving my old like, my pre-disability life horribly;  I miss bending over to get something out of the cabinets, walking in a straight line, etc.  Lately, when I think about those early days, I am gripped with horror.

Before CIDP,  I lived my life swinging from pollyanna to panic. I spent half of my life telling myself that I would be lucky and escape the tumult and turmoil others had.  When I wasn't telling myself that, I was paranoid, crippled with fear that the opposite would turn be true.

Excessively Moderate

This is Natasha when she was probably 6.
 I have waited  months to get this picture out of storage.

"Moderation in all things, including moderation."
            Petronius

Didn't see this one coming...

We joined a great, Methodist church yesterday.  We have been going for quite a while and regularly attend the Wednesday night suppers.  I am also going to check out a couple of Bible studies.  I am really looking forward to that.  I just need to find my Bible...

Once again, I had a crying fit during the service.  We sang "Come Ye Sinners Poor and Needy," a favorite of Natasha.  I remembered the sound her singing the chorus, "I will arise and go to Jesus, He will embrace me in His arms. In the arms of my dear Saviour, O, There are ten thousand charms."  She would repeat the last line, slowing it down, weighting each with with it's unique presentation, her voice always going upward on "ten thousand charms."  She sang it all the time when she was a child, at bedtime, on car trips, and she sang it to Mercedes.

"Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me."  Mark 9:37

He Leadeth Me

Sunday, January 8th, we had the pleasure of taking Natasha's daughter, my granddaughter, Mercedes to our new church in Statesboro.  She was very well-behaved and joined in the service to the best of her ability.  She stood when we stood and during the hymns, held hymnal open in front of her, just like the rest of us.  Wow, what a cute kid.  

Time

Last night I dreamed about Natasha's funeral; it was dark and full of people I didn't know.   They asked me difficult questions that I couldn't answer.   The day before, at the gym, some song I had never heard before sent me stumbling and sobbing into the showers, crying that I missed her.  Maybe because the tumult from last month is slowing down, these Natasha bumps (as in bumping up a topic in an Internet forum to keep it active) have been happening. With less to occupy it, my mind goes to her, sometimes unwillingly.

21 Days

Three weeks ago today, I lost my angel.  And even beyond her death, everything else is a crisis.  If life is  journey, then mine has veered so far off into a deep, uncharted and boundless wilderness that I will never find it again. 


One of the things that sustained  me when I was in the hospital last year was The Third Step Prayer.  I told myself that even if I had doubts, as long as I sought God and to do His will, I would be alright.  Not cured, not given vast wealth or any of the other things I was tempted to beg for, all I wanted was to do His will, then I would be alright.

I am not there yet, but the reminder that that place exists is helpful.

Angel Band

It has been a week since my daughter, Natasha, died.  Adrienne, Alex and I arrived home in Georgia on Wednesday afternoon.  After only a few weeks, this is our home now and Vermont is the alien country.  I tremulously wandered around our condo, reacquainting myself to the familiar territory; I was the changed one.