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I Know

Strawberry_Love_by_thewafflekid

Dear Mel,

The one thing I know, is that you wouldn’t want your death to destroy me eternally. I think you would be pretty pissed off at me if I stopped the Love Tour. I know it had come to a slow crawl while dealing with Ginger and then my sister’s stuff with her boys. But at the same time. I kept at it. I was still at the Ginger’s house when I first talked to Mr. Yummy again.

I listened to a good Tedx talk today.

You allowed me, as I allowed you, to be vulnerable with one another. You were also watching me learn to be vulnerable in my life, to experience, and feel worthy of love and happiness. I was watching you become more like I used to be, and steadfastly standing by you…because I understood that feeling of, “WTF?!? I HAVE DONE EVERYTHING RIGHT!!!” But you were angry and I knew it.

I have to allow myself to keep going on my journey. I know you would want that. Mr. Yummy, or not. I do deserve the love I discovered, then incorporated into my life. You were the first person I told when I thought I went crazy. You were there for the drastic change my life took and you were my biggest cheerleader. Regardless of the turns your life was taking, you kept cheering me on. “I’m so happy and proud of you girl.”

Those words meant and still mean so much to me. I wish I could have saved you. I wish I would have known what you were doing. I wish I never got that phone call. I wish you were still here. I can wish in one hand, and shit in the other, I’ll still have two handfuls of shit, because you aren’t coming back.

Do you remember the time you were driving me home from Gig Harbor to Mukilteo? We were in I-5 in your old Blazer. Suddenly a car in the fast lane lost it’s tire and hubcap. The car went ass over teakettle and the tire rolled over four lanes, up the hill, then back down the hill, crossing the lanes right in front of us, almost nailing us. We were so busy looking at the wreckage ahead of us, we didn’t see the peripheral.

Do you remember the time I thought you were dying in front of me after that doctor gave you an Imitrex injection without telling you what it was, then sent you out of the office without the required in office wait time…just in case you were the 2% of the population with a severe reaction? By the time you got to my apartment, I had to load you, my daughter and your son up and rush you to the emergency room.

This isn’t like that.

I can’t get stuck here, and I can’t have your death start me asking, “Am I a good person?”

I question if I made you feel honored through the process you went through as you died? Did I do right by you? Did I have your back? Were you proud of me?

I know your tears were tears of love. But did I honor our friendship? Did I do enough for you? People say I did. People tell me I honored you and that I was a good friend all the way to the end.

Neener and I reconnected. It’s been ten years. I told her everything. She said that the Universe is a funny place. It takes and it gives, and maybe I had Mr. Yummy come back into my life, to be there when you left. I don’t know. Sucky trade off.

I miss you, your laugh, your wit, your speed, your mind and your love. Though I suppose your love for me, hasn’t died, since it is energy. I just have yet to tap back into it. I wish you could help me.

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Questions

questions

I’ve been trolling WordPress blogs using the tag “grief”.

It is comforting, in a really fucked up way to know there are so many people out there, who know what I mean when I say I am FULL of grief that I have never known before. Thank you to all of you who have been open and tried to write your way out of this place that seems like purgatory to me.

To anyone who has read my blog over the course of the last 5 years or so (including my original, dead, freshly and finally deleted yesterday) “Snee Made Me Do It” site, know that I am more spiritual, rather than religious. I don’t feel that because I say Universe or Source, instead of God, that this makes me any lesser than a Christian.

I realized this morning, as I was reading “what i wanted to tell Flo today” that even though we may have different beliefs, we are angry at the same thing. I have read many of you type of an anger at God. I have also seen many of you type about how God has pulled you through it.

I don’t understand how the Universe, could extinguish such an amazing flame. So as I am standing in the kitchen window, staring out at the day rising over my car, I ponder the question, “Am I a bad person?” “Did I somehow do SOMETHING to be dealt such a cruel blow by my beloved Universe?”

There are so many things I saw in my minds eye, clear as day involving Mel. Grand-babies, being grandmas together, being the two little old ladies standing in line at Zippy’s Giant Burgers, shocking young people with how cool we are and what we actually “get”. Wearing purple together, weddings, and basically, always being there by her side, because…she would have moved back home and we would have been together again, thick as thieves, through sick n sin, just like peas and carrots.

And yet Universe took that all away. Even though I can still see these things. In this life, they will never come to fruition and I feel fucking robbed. I’m mad at that. My constant is gone. Fuck you, how dare you. Why do I deserve this absolute soul crushing loss?

Did I have to give up Mel because I asked to Universe to bring Mr. Yummy back into my life? Is this a sick joke? Because my sadness, on top of the absolute freak out that I STILL have scabies after two treatments, and now that Mr. Yummy is clear, there is a divide between us that scares the fucking shit out of me. So really, if it was a sick joke of a fucking trade off…I don’t get it. The punchline makes no sense to me. I am not Christian, yet I feel like Job.

I have to try really hard to ignore that old, old, self defeating voice in my head, that just SCREAMS out at me to “RUN BEFORE HE CAN REJECT YOU!”

Well, that came out of the woodwork.

Sigh

Did I mention, I miss you?

Ummmm, that’s what I did last time, and didn’t even realize it till years later.

Unpacking

Twenty boxes so far. Not sure what to bust out and what to re-pack.

I was standing in the spare room amidst my piles, looking at towels, yet realizing I was unpacking more than just “stuff”. I am unpacking lots and lots of raw emotion. I understand what my sister has gone through, but I know that I will never get the same thing from her. I looked at the calendar yesterday as I was doing some last-minute cleaning and just felt overwhelmed with sadness to realize she ran away and abandoned our agreement, back in June after a trip to Mexico. She came back from that and went East for the first time, and really…hasn’t been back since.

I felt abandoned, because I was.

Of course, I am a big girl, but it hurt that my sister of all people, withdrew on her word.

As I am standing there, looking at towels, wondering what Mr. Yum and I are doing, and feeling like I just need to cry because I am overwhelmed with displacement and insecurity, Mr. Yum pointed to a linen closet and said “Things like that can go in here, though it might need some re-organizing.” Just like that, I smiled and felt calmer. Then he said he needed help wrapping a few presents so he wasn’t late to a family thing.

I was grateful to have a moment to separate me from my emotion. Watching him was happy for my soul. There is something about his face and eyes, that just fills me with happy. I love his warm and toasty body late at night, and the way our legs and feet tangle and touch. My favorite thing is probably when I turn away from the snuggle, and the times he follows and spoons me next to him.

So yeah, I’ll deal with this again and hope neither of us regret this.

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Five Months

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SO MUCH has happened the last five months. I still probably can’t talk about all of it since my sister is still waiting to see if there will ever be charges filed.

Needless to say, she broke up with one boyfriend, and all hell broke loose. Then she started dating a new guy, and another kind of hell broke loose. Meantime, I have been here, working, going to see Mr. Yummy, cursing my sister, waiting for the power to go out, wishing I had internet (I pay for it), and being threatened with eviction from the landlord, even though (MY) rent is paid. (In fairness, hers is too now.) It’s been lots of drama and trauma, and for once, I had nothing to do with it, other than it permeated every aspect of my life.

Once the landlord threatened to evict, I really panicked, because since July, my sister really hasn’t been here. She has been out of town for the better part of the time, coming home for a week or so and then leaving for 4-6 weeks.

I turned 50. I had a dinner on Halloween with my tribe to celebrate and I actually got a little toasted. Toasted enough I dropped my credit card on the patio where we had the dinner (my dear friend, the spoon wielding tax preparer let me use her house) and Mr. Yummy found it and picked it up. He came home with me that night, but for some reason…forgot to give it to me before he left the next day. I was a hurting unit for a few weeks, but didn’t want to “bother him” so I just roughed it out in silence. The day he came to meet me and give it back, was the day after the landlord informed me how bad things were and I was told if it wasn’t made right in so many days, I would have to leave. Mr. Yummy took me to lunch and I told him what was going on and just like that, he offered up his spare room for my things and his room, for me.

I was stunned, yet not surprised because, he has always been kind to me. I was sick to my stomach, because I have spent since 2001 trying to figure out how to get back to him and what we had, and were supposed be. But not like this. I want to be with him in every way, no doubt about that, but I had hoped it would be him saying, “I love you and want to be with you”. I’ve been willing to wait for it. I hurt him so badly when I went to Alaska and he thought I was leaving him.

So here I sit, blogging instead of packing. I started packing a week ago. I stayed at Mr. Yummy’s a few nights last week so my sister could come home and we didn’t kill one another. The first night as I was drifting off to a blissfully satiated sleep, I mumbled I would ask him the thousands of questions running through my head tomorrow, to which he replied that he knew. The next night, I asked how much space I had, is there storage close, how long do I have and what will you expect me to pay to stay with you? He pretty much said, “Hmmm,  I don’t know.” to it all, and I just left it at that. I got back to his house the third night, and he took me out to his motorcycle hut (his sacred man cave) and 1/2 – 3/4 of the shelves were empty! The night before they were ALL full of parts. I was gobsmacked, to say the least. I was also grateful, touched and for some reason, just felt really, really humble.

Part of me is really excited, and part of me is really scared, and even though he hasn’t said he loves me, or that we were eventually headed here, or even that he might just want me to stay there…I know him well enough to know that he isn’t doing anything he doesn’t want to do, and nothing with me is done without thought. Just like nothing I do with him is insignificant. He is what he is and he knows it.

I only know, that the last ten months, I have been so happy. Life has been hard, trying, my sister and I almost lost what we have worked so hard to repair, my car was broken into (bypassing my locks, and alarm, then re-locking it) and I am moving again way, way before I planned on it. ALL SHITTY THINGS according to the plans I HAD, but…I am happy and though Mr. Yummy is definitely part of it, he is not the reason why. I kept my wits. I stayed calm and kept my head.

You know what?

I did it because on 18, December, 2011 I went crazy.

My life fell apart, I’ve blogged all about it. I’ve been putting my life back together and for the most part, it is quite manageable these days. I like love my job, love the person I have become, the changes I have made, the choices I have made and the people I allow in my space.

The world is still crazy, another young black life was taken, people are angry, I am angry and I want change, but the world doesn’t have permission to take me down, and I plan on making the world a better place than it is.

I leave you with this…

Who are you?

Really.

Not what are you, not what is your ethnicity. I heard a smart guy ask, Who are you and I don’t mean race, because we were taught race by the system.

Who are you?

I know who I am, and I know what I lost by admitting who I am.

If you want to know who I am, and what I lost, come back next week when I have more time, and I’ll tell you. Right now, I have to go get ingredients for stuffing, after all tomorrow is that genocide day and I have plenty to be thankful for.

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