Slept like a baby.

There are truly generous people in this world. Some are generous of spirit. Some are generous of time. My friend wNs is one of those people. Somewhere in the past ten months I have come to know a wonderful group of people online. One of those people is wNs. I'm not sure when our paths crossed through cyber space, but I am glad we did. It has been a relationship of mutual care and support.

In the recent past I shared how I had commissioned her to make a beautiful quilt for my mother in law, made with the clothing of my husband, Michael. When the quilt was completed, she sent it to me so that I could then present it as a birthday gift to my mother in law. I opened the box, and laid it out on my bed,and quite quickly, it took my breath away. I was amazed. Not surprised, as I already knew how talented wNs was. I was amazed at how she was able to tell a story of love, and capture Michael's essence in it's pattern. When my children came down to my bedroom to see the quilt there were three full gasps in unison. They then looked to me with concern. Finally my daughter was brave enough to say what they were all thinking. "How are you going to part with that Daddy?"

I began to panic, and quickly my hands began to gently brush across every stitch. My fingers picked up the love that these pieces of cloth contained. Each piece had specific memories of Michael for me. Some pieces of clothing were very difficult for me to part with. I told myself that I would benefit further by being selfless, and giving it to Michael's mother. I am younger, and I have the good fortune of having many friends that can offer me support. I have contact with many of Michael's friends, who can always share more of their Michael stories with me. And I have all of our things, which each also contain pieces of his DNA, with happy memories coded into each of them.

I will be honest in saying that I cried when I carefully folded the quilt and placed it back in the box for mailing. I know this pleased Michael, as he was very worried about how his mother would manage after he was gone. I love Michael very much, and so his wishes, his concerns, are now mine.

I do have a quilt that is often on our bed. It isn't made with his things, but is a prayer quilt that was sent to him by some women I met through an online brain tumor caregiver support group. It meant a lot to Michael, and brought me peace whenever I laid it across him. Yet the quilt wNs made, it reached me on a far deeper level.

This weekend I was blessed to meet my friend wNs. I was able to sit with her, hug her, and look into her eyes as she spoke. She is a shy person, yet one that conveys such sincere appreciation and love. When I went to check in with her at one point this weekend she reached in front of her and handed me a pillow case quilted out of Michael's clothing. It contained parts of a light blue Polo shirt that Michael wore when we first met. It touched me beyond belief. I wish I wasn't so guarded with me feelings, as what I wanted to do was cry with joy. I have learned to harness my tears during the day, as they can bring me down so deep that I begin to fear not getting back up. By the end of the night though, when I returned to my room, I had no reason to hold back, and let them fall into the beautiful quilted pillow case.

Yesterday I went out to buy a fresh new pillow to place in the case. I placed in on our bed, and as you can see, it matched our bedding perfectly. Michael was the perfect match for me. We truly complimented each other. These small swatches of fabric, made up of Michael's history, also compliment each other.

Now many of my readers know that I suffer greatly from insomnia. I have come to expect it each night, and just lay there, waiting for sleep to arrive patiently. Last night I laid my head on the soft quilted pillow case, and gently allowed my fingers to feel the various textures that each possessed. I could feel their differences, and quickly I appreciated all the complexities that Michael possessed. Just as I was thinking about these, I fell fast asleep.

Thank you.

Family Feud

Tomorrow is our big FAMILY FEUD audition (!!!) - wish us luck!
Originally uploaded by dpstyles™

Tonight was another in what seems like a summer of weekly blow ups with my 16 year old son.

(signal beginning of theme song in my playlist to the right)

Announcer: Welcome to...the family feud!

Announcer: On tonight's show we have Dan, in real time. 51 year old father of three. Dan resides in sunny San Diego, after giving his children the ultimate ultimatum, pack your bags and move with me or hit the streets kids. I don't care if San Francisco is all you know. I don't care if I always said I would never move from the Bay Area. Dan can be a miserable son of a bitch when life doesn't go as planned. You want to see what he is like after losing the love of his life, his partner in parenting, and his once in a lifetime legal husband. What you see is an excellent micro manager. A compulsively controlling, and somewhat rigid, parent who is said to have "ruined my life!" according to one son Dante.

Announcer: On our other side we have the sweet, and quite lazy, 16 year old slacker, oh, I mean even tempered, and ever so helpful and dutiful son. According to Dante, he is very tired, and doesn't want to do anything. Well, any thing other than play Playstation, drink diet sodas, and eat plenty of chips and ice cream. Up until February of this year, Dante resided in a home for adolescent boys with emotional problems. Dante had made enough progress, and success during his home visits, that the staff and his dad, decided he was ready to move home. That was five months ago. And, five months prior to that, Dante lost his step father to brain cancer. Since then Dante has wondered what the hell is wrong with his dad.

Announcer: Are you ready!? Let's start the family feud!

Host: Come on over. Dan, Dante, we surveyed 100 people, top 5 answers on the board, here's your question. Hands next to your buzzers. What is a legitimate expectation of a 16 year old teenager?

(buzz)

Dan: To do what his father tells him.

(Applause, applause.)

Host: To do what his father tells him. And, the board says 25 percent!

(Applause, applause)

Dante: To stay out of his father's way while playing Playstation all day?

Host: To stay out of his father's way while playing Playstation all day? And the board says, 10 percent.

(Applause, applause.)

Dante: That's not fair! That is bull crap!

Dan: Dante, don't talk like that!

Dante: What do you want from me!

Dan: To do what I tell you to do, and to tell the truth!

Dante: I did do what you wanted me to do.

Dan: But you only did half of it, then you lied about the rest. Plus I missed a class tonight so I could pick you up rather than having you take the train home.

Dante: What are you so angry about. Your nuts. This is so not fair dude!

Dan: Life is not fair. If you want fair, do what I say, and stop lying about everything else.

Dante: I did do what you wanted me to do. This is bull crap! I hate my life! You have ruined my life! Fuck you!

Dan: Oh, you think that saying things like that is going to help you out? I don't think so.

Dante: Well, I'm not doing what you ask. I'm going to bed, because this is bull crap.

Dan: Well, go to bed. I will still have your Playstation tomorrow morning.! What the fuck just happened?

Host: Well folks, it looks like we don't have a winner here. Stay tuned to tomorrow morning's show when Dante will go upstairs to his father's room to apologize, then without even taking a breath, will ask...Can I have my Playstation back?



Oh how I love parenting the kids on my own again. I am trying to stop being so rigid, and try to be a little more empathetic, but I just get more angry when they don't follow my instructions. Of course I know, and you know, that anger is always just below the surface with me. Most of the time I am able to control it. Yet, I am also aware that I can't possibly do all this on my own, while grieving the loss of Michael, without letting my anger get the best of me. It should be no wonder then why Dante can get so angry that he ends up just self-sabotaging.

I don't like this. I don't like it at all. Why can't every thing go back to normal? Michael was the calm voice around the house. He is what calmed me. Or excited me. He was is sadly missed. And now, I must get some sleep so I can graciously accepts some one's apology tomorrow.

Announcer: That's it for today folks. Join us tomorrow here on the Family Feud!

Kindred Spirits

peer group
Originally uploaded by jillgadz

No, this is not a photo of a group of us, nor is it San Diego, but it speaks to the feeling I get when I think of the friendships I have developed in the widowed community.

Last night I went out for a drink with a large group of people at the Camp. Upon returning back to the hotel, I picked up my laptop, and settled into a sofa in the lobby. I was writing last night's post when the last of the group were returning to the hotel as well. A couple of the women noticed me, and came over to talk, surprised that I would be sitting there writing. This was maybe around 1:30am, and indicative of these late night conversations, we began discussing many very personal aspects of widowhood that don't often get discussed. Both of these women seemed to both have a wickedly dark sense of humor, as do I. We talked about ourselves, and asked probing questions that had been on our mind.

I love it when I find myself in a situation like this, as it allows the direction of the conversation to take on a life of it's own. Somehow when it is late at night, it is far easier to let your guard down, and talk about your weakness and frailties. And as is usually my experience, I am having this conversation with two straight women. But because I sensed that they were kindred spirits, I was able to talk free of judgement, and welcome their questions, no matter how personal. It was refreshing.

During these days of trauma and grief, we need to be open to expand our definition of compatibility. We need to recognize that while it is always valid to seek out the type of people we think we need in our lives, there are times when we are so deeply wounded that our prior list of contacts just won't fit the bill. For me, during this past year, and throughout this past weekend, I found myself immersed in conversation with so many people, hearing their stories, and speaking about mine. I was able to reach across the chairs to recognize that the direction of our stories were taking a similar turn.

There were several conversations that led to a slow recognition that our spouses had died of the same type of cancer. It brought us so much closer, with that clear sense of knowing. I was also able to have a one on one conversation with another widower about my loss, his loss, our experience in the days since our loss, and where we currently find ourselves. We both reached the conclusion that should we return to the Camp next year, that we need to facilitate a gathering of other men to have a similar discussion.

Back to my two new late night friends. It felt like such a relief to have that type of a release. A release of our pain, and of our self doubt. A release of our worries. A release of our hidden desires. A release of our times of vulnerability. Our bodies tired, our eye lids feeling heavy, we continued through the night, finally ending our conversation at 4:30am. I don't know when I will see these women again. I don't know when I will see this widower again. I don't know when I will have the opportunity to sit with widows and compare experiences in dealing with the brain cancer of our husbands. I don't know when I will again see my now quite close blogger friends.

I do know this. I am blessed. I am blessed with having these kindred spirits around me. They circle my heart in times of pain, they offer support when I need to talk, and they laugh when I need to express my sick sense of humor. It is my hope tonight that each of you have, or will find, kindred spirits of your own. And know that I am one already in your back pocket.

Are you ready to party?

Sybarite Party :Raja,Savoy 2,Parsley,Savoy 1
Originally uploaded by alessandroparisi52

An evening out with the widows.


Tonight was the camp widow banquet. We were provided a wonderful dinner, along with drinks and live musical entertainment. Everyone arrived dressed to the nines. It was an interesting evening to say the least.


My first observation was this. I appreciate the desire to provide us widowed attendees with a party atmosphere in which to celebrate a weekend of connection and shared wisdom. But I couldn't help but notice those that either didn't attend, or those that quickly left the venue. I believe there is a delicate balance of what it is that people are ready for, or comfortable with, depending on where they are in their grief journey.


I know that for the most part I am not really looking for a party quite yet. Although for me, I am easily moved to have a good time with those who get me, and that have a desire to find some joy in our coming together. At the same time I wonder how this evening could have been altered slightly to meet the needs, or the grief developmental stages, of those not quite ready for celebrations.


It was interesting to interact with the attendees when they first arrived, and approached the registration desk. Some who were further from their time of loss appeared to be ready for a weekend of instruction, suggestion, and celebration. Yet, some had traveled here quite early in their grief. They approached the desk looking quite wounded. They would accept their registration materials, and quietly walk to a corner for some quiet solitude. They would be the ones who spoke with tears in their eyes. They were the ones who clearly had not had the opportunity to interact with other widowed people, and now appeared lost and intimidated. These were also the people that I didn't see remain with the group as the evening progressed.


What this told me is that we must always anticipate that others might not be ready for sage wisdom and celebration. Some may need something entirely different. I think these people needed to sit in a quiet place, with a small group of people, and be given the opportunity to share their stories. I have had that opportunity in the early bereavement groups I participated in. I have also had that opportunity with my many fellow bloggers and followers. I arrived here this weekend already knowing many people through my writing, and through theirs. I arrived this weekend having made some major recent strides in my grief journey. I am not quite yet at the 11 month mark, yet I am beginning to feel more comfortable with my grief. I no longer walk around feeling completely lost or vulnerable.


What I learned tonight is this. I, we, must anticipate that others may not be moving along with their grief in similar time periods. We must find a way to bridge the gap that occurs in a group when some are ready to celebrate milestones, while others are far too fragile to even be in this type of environment. I am fortunate to be in a place where I can feel comfortable with both. For those who can't, I will be mindful to create a space that allows them to be with the group without feeling completely overwhelmed.

Live from Camp Widow

It’s 11:52 pm, and the local widowed natives have pretty much turned in for the night. Yes, some are lingering in the bar. How would I know? Okay, so there I sit as well. I’m a night owl, who doesn’t usually turn off the light at night until at least 1am.

It’s been a wonderful day. I can’t tell you how great it feels to put my arms around so many people I have connected with online over the past 10 months. It’s surreal, and it’s perfect. There is an instant camaraderie with each other.

I arrived early this afternoon, around 2pm, to attend a volunteers training. I then spent the afternoon helping register the many participants. It was such a joy to do this along side Boo. As the attendees would approach there was such a great expanse of emotions, and all were perfectly acceptable. Some were terrible nervous, not knowing what to expect. Some were in tears, moved by the reality of coming into this oasis of connectivity. Others were filled with smiles and laughter, knowing they were home with like minded friends. That is where I find myself. It has been a day of joy. Joy in true understanding. I, with many others, have this opportunity to be among those that get us, to share our stories, to use our sick sense of humor, and to feel the collective sense of support.

I look forward to tomorrow, when we will be attending the various workshops. This will give me the opportunity to learn from those that have walked this path before me. It will also provide the opportunity to meet new people, and to benefit from listening to them. These are my peers, and I truly want to know them, and to hear their stories.

I know that I am a very fortunate person. I have this opportunity that many other widowed people could benefit from. My only hope is that I will at some point be able to share with others that which I have learned. It is my hope that somehow I will later be in the position to reach out and help others who find themselves new to the grieving process. This is something I feel compelled to do.


Tonight I am mindful of the fact that I am here because I lost the love of my life. He provided me with all the love and affection that I wanted for most of my adult life. He proved to me that I was worthy of true love, and that love prevails, even in such challenging adversity.

Something that I am also very aware of tonight is how far I have come in these past 11 months. Don’t get me wrong, I am still a very wounded person, but I am also a person who knows that the worst is over. I have gone through the period of time that I had no interest in the life that is going on around me. Someone asked me tonight why I decided to move to San Diego. I answered quite honestly. It was either death or move. Just three months ago I contemplated taking my life. I felt there was nothing worth living for. My heart felt so broken and trampled on. Then before I knew it, the sun came up, and I knew that I would get through another day.

Hijacked

hyjack
Originally uploaded by NOKYARD

Aircraft hijacking (also known as skyjacking and sky controlling) is the unlawful seizure of an aircraft by an individual or a group. In most cases, the pilot is forced to fly according to the orders of the hijackers.

Blog Comment Field hijacking (also known as Danjacking and comment controlling) is the unlawful seizure of a blog comment field by an individual, or a group (insert megan and bev, but who's naming names). In most cases Dan is pleased to provide space according to the needs of the hijackers (again, megan and bev, but nobody is casting any blame here.)

Listen, I take the time to post each day because I have a need to express myself, and I love the interaction, or shared thoughts, that come from it. Most days my time is taken up by the kids, so I don't get to read the discussion until later in the day. Although, in all honestly, I do get email notifications of comments left on my blog, and when those comments are adding up quickly, and being delivered to my iPhone throughout the day, I can only think of one thing, bev and megan must be at it again.

I love you ladies, and am so pleased to host these discussions. I just feel like I should be a better host, and have some tea and crumpets to offer during these discussions. And try to visualize the space during these discussions. I offer a neat, because I'm compulsively neat; relaxed, must be the drugs; and nicely decorated, after all, I am a gay man; cyber loft for any and all who wish to make use of the space. Consider it a common room where any one, at any given time, can start a discussion thread.

You know, us widowed people have been through enough shit, that we should be able to just kick back, and make use of what ever space is available. Life is tough enough. When we see an opportunity to talk about it, or make light of it, we should not have to apologize about where, and when, we made use of this opportunity.

In other words, ladies, and gentlemen, Mi Casa Es Su Casa.

By the way, I saw on Facebook that some of the early arrivers of Camp Widow, were chatting, and having drinks, at the Marriott. I was still sweaty from my yoga class when I got home and saw this message. I quickly changed my clothes, splashed myself with cologne, and was off to the hotel. What I found was a circle of wonderful people sharing stories, and feeling really excited about the weekend. It was also great to meet some of my fellow bloggers, Supa, Hyla and Matt, there tonight. It was the perfect way to get a head start on all the bonding, laughter and tears that await me at Camp Widow.

I can't believe that I am widow name dropping. What has become of my life?

Getting to know you.

Today, for only a short while, I was in complete bliss. I have driven by a local nursery a few times over the past couple of weeks, and I have been dying to go there. Now, why do I hesitate to use this type of phrasing? These are a grouping of words, formed into a phrase, of which we often don't give much thought to.


I decided to look up the phrasing, or the form of the word die, in which it is used. For my help I used Dictionary.com. It said that in this form, die is used as a verb; to desire or want keenly or greatly: I'm dying for a cup of coffee. Now I can go back to using the word, and have less worry about I am truly saying. I know that for some time, and obviously a little still today, words related to death stung me like a bee. When someone would use the word in casual conversation I would suddenly lose my train of thought, or the ability to follow theirs. I also often took the word's use quite personally. It often seemed to amaze me how insensitive people could be. I don't mean this in a purposeful way, just that they should have been better aware of what they were saying to me.


These days even my kids will make mention after someone has used words, or phrases, which brings our thoughts to the issue of death. They sometimes get angry that someone would say such things in my presence. I know that they are wanting to be sensitive to my feelings, and by doing so, they are able to discuss their ever evolving feelings about Michael's death, and about death in general.


Well, I appear to have been off on a tangent. Or, maybe the topic of gardening allowed me the opportunity to venture off in this way. Like many things in my life, I find gardening to be quite healing and therapeutic. I spend so much time looking at the various plants available at the nursery. I bring one plant over to another, stand back, consider how they will do next to one another, and what they will do for the aesthetics of my space, and of my mind.


All of the plants that I selected today are very different from the plants I had at home in San Francisco. Today I tried to select plants that could not only survive in hot weather, but flourish as well. I wanted plants that had small splashes of color. The non flowering large leaf plants on the right, in the first picture, are Plumeria Temple Trees. One will have beautiful white flowers, the other red. These are the type of flowers often used to make leis, or to set floating in a pond or pool. Just beautiful, and fragrant flowers. In some countries the plumeria is sometimes associated with ghosts and graveyards. They are often planted in cemetaries in the Philippines and Indonesia, and associated with temples in Hindu and Buddhist cultures. And here's something for Bev, plumeria flowers are most fragrant at night in order to lure sphinx moths to pollinate them. The flowers have no nectar, and simply dupe their pollinators. The moths inadvertently pollinate them by transferring pollen from flower to flower in their fruitless search for nectar.


I don't know the name of the pink flowering plants on the left, but was taken by the thick succulent branches and leaves, which lead up to the exquisite pink & white flowers


The other two that I combined into the small and wide pots were placed together because of the exotic look they had. The flowering plant, Lobelia, has deep red flowers that bloom throughout summer. It's leaves are green, but with touches of red to purple in them. The big leafy purple plant did not have it's name listed either, but I found it so pleasing, and calming.





This is one of my favorite plants, Aeonium arboreum 'zwartkop.' In other words, dark purple foliage. I love the deep chocolaty purple color. It is also called the black rose plant, but it is obviously not a rose, but rather a succulent, evergreen perennial.






And, last but not least, is the Cyperus Papyrus, also nicknamed the Lyon's Tail, is what sits next to my Buddha. It's an interesting plant, in that it originates from Egypt, and was used to make papyrus obviously, but it's long reeds were also used to make boats. I myself found the plant to appear light, and elegant. I also loved it's simplicity.

Well, tonight was a night of tangents. I didn't expect to go into such detail about my chosen plants. I think I did this for my own sake. I would like to really know more about the plants I choose to use, their names, and understand how they need to be treated. Perhaps this is what we all want, and deserve, from each other. I want people to stop, take notice of me, and try to understand who I am. I want to be able to do the same in kind.