[This patchwork was written June 25 to a prompt in writing class. Forgive the repetition of things said before. It is part of the grieving process I now know. Saying it and then saying it again].
It must be the last day of school. It is loud over there. Loudness with jubilation.
A man walks past out front. What? No dog?
I will water everything today, even though it rained heavily in our absence. I’m allowed. I will order groceries online. A small extension of grace to myself.
The peace lily that sat on the table next to Danny’s body at the chapel in Longmont now blooms. It was a gift from a former girlfriend — a young woman schooled in grief having lost her beloved brother just a few years prior.
I hear doves cooing. In LA, most evenings an owl occupied the ficus tree outback and hooted. One hoot with a hitch, followed by two smooth hoots. An East Coast owl would produce three smooth hoots, we learned from my brother.
Agent of wisdom, harbinger of death – but can an owl also act as a messenger from the other side? On our second-to-last day at my brother’s, I found an owl feather below the tree. It sits now on the box of Danny’s ashes but there is scant comfort in constructed symbolism, no matter how unexpected or serendipitous.
Ten minutes after arriving home, I have the hose in my hand and look! Here comes one of the neighborhood robins, food in her beak. “Oh hello!” I say. My friend in Lincoln recently shared that after her husband died, a pair of robins showed up repeatedly at her back sliders – looking in, eager and intent.
I have nothing to prove.
I have lots to clean up.
There’s weeding to do for one thing. Always weeding. There are feeders to fill and a broken heart in need of tending. It will never be fixed, my broken heart, but it does demand care.
How the dark scared me last night!
After fourteen days of being subject to my brother’s TV selections, having power over the remote control helps with my mood. A little anyway. How pathetic. Especially when I keep hearing Danny’s final words to me.
Recall that when he asked why should he should be back by four, I mentioned a birthday cake adding, “And because every time you leave I sit here in anguish wondering if I’ll ever see you again.” And on that fateful morning, his final morning, the morning of his 30th birthday, he answered, “Maybe find a show to watch?”
I honestly think he was trying to be helpful.
When had I last said “I love you”? Not a hand-wringing question because we said “I love you” to each other all the time. Every phone call. And he knew I loved him even if I didn’t say it. But still, I wonder: when was the last time I told Danny I loved him?
A new round of regrets emerges. I wish in those last 10 days I’d sat next to him more. Not to campaign for his survival, not to query about his pain, just to sit side-by-side. Close. Every moment I was distracted now seems like a loss. What do you mean I went down to the hotel lobby for breakfast and wrote for an hour? And why didn’t I ride in his car instead of with Ken when we drove to the rental unit?
Well, for one thing he was insistent about needing to be alone. Drove to Nederland because he needed to be alone. Went fishing because he needed to be alone. Drove around after going to the gym.
For another thing, he had to be alone to purchase a gun. To make his plan.
I wake and don’t know what coast I’m on. We thought we’d be awake till midnight or later our first night home but crashed at 10:30.
I have nothing to prove.
I have lots to clean up.
Should I be trying something new? Baking bread, for instance. Or sewing garments. Challenges for the body and mind, perhaps offering a balm for the soul.
I think perhaps we should go to Iceland for Christmas. Will we have swept the midterms? I cannot even think about the collection of ornaments in the attic. One every year, gifted to each boy.
It costs $40 to go to Good Harbor Beach now and you need a reservation. It’s enough to make me wanna find a beach in Rhode Island. Or to stay home. And water the garden.
There is something I keep saying in my head to my dead son. “I wish you could’ve stayed.”
Over and over. “I wish you could’ve stayed.”
Is it terrible to admit that I also feel relief on his behalf? All struggles done, laid to rest. All worries, some of them life-long, bundled and tossed overboard. Relief.
Turns out genre murder mysteries are not the escape I’d hoped for. So many survivors of the crime of murder after all are parents. Of course they are. Kate Atkinson I now know is an ace at describing grief. Would I have even noticed her skill five months ago?
How cozy does a mystery have to be to afford escape? No possible suicides. No parents of dead kids. Gun shot deaths are problematic as are well-depicted aching absences in the aftermath of violence. Good luck.
I have nothing to prove. Surviving the day is challenge enough.
The kids over the fence scream with excitement and joy. It’s the last day of school. I hope it’s early release — for their sake. So much happiness is exhausting. Just like so much sorrow.
The peace lily from Katie thrives. Danny did not. Her brother did not. But do you know who is thriving? Hunter Biden! And I’m here for every word of his snarky comebacks. Our president is insane. It is no longer an exaggeration and that’s all I’ll say about that.
Today I will look at bread recipes. Maybe flip through my drawer of sewing patterns too. Definitely will water the garden – front and back. “Jet” setting to clean the birdbath and scare the rabbits. “Shower” setting for everything else.
Hoo-et. Hoo. Hoo. I stood under the ficus and peered up, hoping to catch sight of the bird as if to do so would confirm some holy structure of the world and restore all manner of broken things.
The next morning: a feather on the ground.
Iceland for Christmas sounds wonderful .. I’m thinking Danny would agree. I do like that you can think about Danny being at peace. We can’t know what future sufferings he might have had to endure. And I have absolutely no doubt he knew how very much he was loved .. and will forever be loved.
Future sufferings. Yes. He would’ve gotten a job. Maybe moved on to a new relationship. But the specter of his doubt and anxiety would’ve tagged along.
Dee~ Dee, Dee…such poignant writing today. Yes to ‘nothing to prove’ (I wish we could all live in that space) and ‘lots to clean up’ – but I instead hear “lots to tend” – for isn’t it all just lifelong tending? I think of myself as I read and know I will not be fixed, that is an illusion to me. Repeating oneself works in both writing and healing, I believe.
We have been noticing so many ficus trees on our recent jaunts into The Valley. My parents had a potted one, which they had given to my grandmother and then taken back home when she died. My dad (out of character) cared for it like it was his baby.
A Great Horned Owl? That is what we usually hear and what was living at the bridge for a while, that we never heard but saw. I guess one gets one or the other, but not always the whole package. 😉 The Owl feather is such a gift! I looked and looked for one at the bridge, but never did find one.
Your garden looks so lively and beautiful. I thought of it while reading The Wild Braid the other day. Thanks for sharing the brightness of that.
Ah, yes…the viewing choices. I remember the years when J. watched any number of CSI, Bones, Law & Order and so on…the American Murder Shows that always seemed to have a wayward, murdered young woman. I could not watch. I could not watch. I’m glad you are being so gentle with yourself and allowing all that comes.
I have a very good bread recipe or two, if you’d like me to send them your way.
Tend well my friend.
I love your blending of “cleaning up” and “tending.” Because the former sounds onerous. A duty. While the latter feels inviting. A chance to make things better. So thanks for that.
The owl feather IS a gift. It just pales beside what I really want, of course, which is to have Danny back.
I’m surprised you haven’t found any owl feathers near the bridge. Did you ever find out what happened to the owlets?
Love to try one of your bread recipes!
Dee~ Great, I’ll send them your way!
Thank you!!
Thank you Glennis. For the invite, the possible connections and mostly, for showing up.
As I read this, a gaunt doe quick-steps past the blue lawn chairs in my front yard. in broad daylight, a very small spotted fawn dashes behind her, but far enough to be left behind if she spooks and forgets about it. Life’s raw edges are always close by.
Once past the first grim shock, there are times when I have thought of Danny as triumphant. He had his way. Forged a path for himself that no one else could see or understand.
Owls, robins, cutthroat trout. Why not? To me, no less likely than nothingness, or angels on clouds, or a fawn racing its mother across the lawn, kicking his heels up and beating her to the treeline.
I have often had the same thought about Danny following through on something he wanted. It took a kind of resolve that I think must have held bravery. The fact that he was wrong-headed about so many things doesn’t take away from that.
Nothingness often seems the most rational and plausible idea but I think it’s more than wishful thinking here, considering alternatives.
Love your description of the deer.
I hope you’ll publish a death memoir of some kind one day Dee. It would nourish the hearts and appease the minds of many even though that be a dumb way to describe it. All I know is your writing is top notch.
Doris
Thanks Doris. For now it’s enough to find release, integration, and a loving audience.
Little things that turn out to be so much more- an owl feather, a sign that indeed you have nothing to prove and the feather is a gift… I so believe in these signs.. Danny was loved, he loved, and he loved you and although it is so presumptuous for me to say this, he is still telling you, via the ways of spirit, that love is here…
Fore me, a little thing that turns out to be much more is a song… Yesterday David Clayton Thomas, the wonderful bluesy, jazzy voiced singer of Blood Sweat and Tears died. He died one month and a day after Rich and he was a year older. Why do I tell this:? well because the first time Rich invited me to his apartment for some wine, he was listening to music from Blood, Sweat and Tears. I who loved Motown, world music and folk music, was blown away by this over the top, harmonica, horn playing band with such a dynamic singer. I especially liked the song,, written by David, titled, ” You’ve Made Me So Very Happy”. Over time, it became our song…some of the lyrics:
“I’ve lost at love before
got mad and closed the door
but you said try, just once more
I chose you for the one
now I’m havin’ so much fun
you treated me so kind
I’m about to lose my mind
You made me so very happy
I’m so glad you
came into my life…”
A little thing that is so much more: I had listened, over and over, to this song, in the early days of Rich’s passing but lately, as the details and duties of death come storming in and I got engulfed in my to do list, I had little time to listen until yesterday at 2 am.. I woke up, needing to hear this song and it stayed with me all day, comforting me until on PBS, in the afternoon, I learned of the death of David Clayton Thomas…a little thing that is so much more, two deaths, two men, flying free and I don’t think it is a coincidence but merely spirit dancing as it so often does for me…
I have goosebumps reading this. In the level of spirit, you, Rich, and this musician are so intertwined. What an amazing way for these connections to be made.
I hope as you wade through your to-do list (even as it might provide some beneficial distraction), that you find time to tune in to the music of the universe and yes, DANCE.
(((Marti))) Oh man. Sending love.
Dear Dee…how is your other son doing?
Thanks for asking Dana. He seems pretty good. In therapy. Has a solid relationship with someone that he lives with and a good job which he doesn’t like but is well paying and in his field. They stay pretty busy with a large friend group and have hobbies. Eventually I hope he’ll find a suicide sibling loss group to take part in. I think it would help. But he’s not ready he says.
Dee~ I’ve been wondering too. Thank you for sharing and as always, sending love to your whole family.
🩷