HOPE

 Hope is a good thing.  Maybe the best of things.

And no good thing ever dies.

Andy Dufresne

Gary has no grave, nor any marker in any physical place where one can visit. His ashes sit on the top of a bookshelf in the living room. Another smaller portion is in the bedroom in an urn shaped container where he wanted to be put.

I have been mulling over where and when I spread his ashes.  They MUST go into the Pacific off a coastal area in Southern California.  I looked into it once and read that a permit must be obtained to spread them in the wind and water.  As if the garbage and waste dumped into the ocean by living humans is kinder to the aquatic life than pulverized bone?  Since I haven't taken any action on this, I haven't pursued a permit yet.

I've been thinking: now that some months have passed, I want to be alone when I spread Gary's ashes. There were only a couple of times when we were with others when we went to the beach.  Most often, we just went and sat in the sand, watched people, parasailers, surfers, planes and boats off in the distance. Usually we fell asleep to the sound of the waves and kids all around us.  My favorite times were taking the Beach Train(aka MetroLink) to Oceanside. We would spread out the wool army blanket from Uncle Orville and try to make the beach umbrella stay up without being blown over by the wind. We could get up and go to a nearby restaurant to eat lunch outside in the sun by the marina and browse in the stalls that sell beach chatchkies. Afterward, some more reading on the blanket, then it would be time to mosey back to the station and take the train back up to Riverside.  Just a day of slow laziness.  Perfect.

If we drove to a beach, my favorite was Newport Beach via Balboa Island. We'd park in the narrow streets, walk past the funky little homes with their colorful flower gardens to the ferry and ride it across the water to Newport Beach, go past the ferris wheel to where shops, restaurants and a beautiful sandy, beachy day awaited. Those times represent heaven on earth-all within driving distance to us.

So what does a survivor do for their cherished one to let the world remember him?  Something; not nothing, that's for sure. I often think about what I would put as an epitaph on a headstone for Gary if he had one.  Last night I thought of one possibility that Gary would probably have liked.  The words from the last scene of The Big Lebowski.  Gary liked westerns, but he really liked Cohen Brothers movies too.  The last scene from The Big Lebowski where The Stranger sits at the bar is relevant.  One can find clips of the various scenes of movies on You Tube, but the message gets cluttered when you watch something and don't just hear the words. So here is the written dialog:

Stranger: Dude! How's things been goin'?
Dude:  Oh, you know- strikes 'n gutters, ups n' downs.
Stranger: I'm sure I gotcha
Dude, Yeah, well take care now, gotta get back.
Stranger: Sure- take it easy Dude!
Dude: Oh yeah.
Stranger: I know that you will.
Dude: Yeah; well- The Dude Abides.
Stranger(smiling, turning to camera to address viewers): The Dude Abides. I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that.  It's good knowing he's out there.  The Dude.  Takin' it easy for all us sinners.

Now, MY favorite movie is Shawshank Redemption; although I rate it just a leetle higher than Fargo.  Shawshank has such beautiful writing and dialog.  The last scene in this movie is my favorite, and in addition to the quote at the top of this post from the same movie,  the last words below would make an excellent epitaph for how I feel about Gary. If I could write this on Gary's grave marker to him from me, it would be as if I were saying it instead of Red:

"I hope I can make it across the border.  I hope to see my friend and shake his hand.  I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams.  I hope..."

Love always, Marsha

Sadderday, May 11

Well, another gap in substantive posting.  I hope my dear readers are starting to realize I'm not a very dedicated writer.  I guess I have to be grabbed by something and forced to sit down to allow my thoughts to exit through my fingers.

What makes this 'Sadderday' is music.  iPod music to be exact.  I have 1300 podcast songs dating back to 2008 when I got hooked up to 3 sources of free podcasts. Today I am listening on my speaker in the house to songs I haven't heard in a long time. Listening and remembering.

I used to take the iPod along in the truck when Gary and I traveled.  So many of these songs make me remember the scenery along the route through Tehachapi to Bakersfield and points north where you lose normal radio reception. Gary put up with my eclectic musical tastes since they were not country music or spanish language.
The images that make me sad now were very pleasant then.
Many, many times I sat in trucks in parking lots waiting outside Home Depots, Lowes etc for Gary to come back from his store visit, his display checkup, signage placement and repairs or even just to use the bathroom on the way to somewhere else. The images of watching him walking toward me makes me feel sick today knowing that I will never see him do this again.  Its kind of weird to write this, but in addition to loving the person, I LOVED the way Gary looked.  Yes, I like tall guys, but Gary was just put together right, you know?  He could easily cover a lot of ground with his long legs.  In the past couple of years, Gary got a small paunch, but even that didn't faze him.  I envied him, because he was always so comfortable in his own skin. He used to pat his stomach after finishing a meal complete with desserts and say, "I didn't get this body by accident!"  Everything looked good on Gary, too.  Who wouldn't wish that were true for themselves?

I know what depression feels like, and I feel like I've stepped into a puddle of it today.

I am also remembering Gary as I put some chicken wings in the refrigerator to thaw out.  Gary bought them from Target on one of the rare days when he felt optimistic enough to think about eating.  I really miss having him cook.  He was such a great cook.  He could do that little flip of the pan to saute vegetables and stir fry just like they do on the cooking shows.  I got rid of the stir fry pan because I knew that my lazy self would never want to go through the motions of using it correctly, cleaning it and oiling it properly before putting it away. 

In the past few weeks I have been planting, landscaping and building an asian inspired meditation garden in the back. It is shaded by a horizontally growing Palo Verde tree reminiscent of a huge Bonsai.  I had tiny pebbles brought in for the 'ocean' in which large rocks are symbolic islands.  I formed a creek through the yard with a bridge, but I am going to build a new more asian looking bridge later.  On the wall near the covered patio there is now a river rock faced pond, a bamboo fountain and a Buddha meditating in a bed of bright ice plants. A larger pagoda sits near the pergola.  My pagoda and buddha came from a trip back to Yucaipa, CA where I was pleased to find them at a sensible price. I made a bamboo background behind the pond garden and made a bamboo frame on which I installed a painting I painted on parachute fabric and used waterproof paint for the bird and branches in the painting.  I am not really happy with it and I intend to paint another painting later this summer.  I remembered how much I like painting and so bought more paints so that I can do more of it in the future. I sewed a small red garden flag and painted the Mandarin Chinese characters meaning, "Remember" in honor of Gary on it.

I tend to stand at the patio door and stare out at the backyard at my handiwork.  If Gary were here, we would sit outside on weekend mornings and read the paper with the water sounds as background noise. But of course, if Gary were here, we wouldn't be here anyway.  So I don't sit outside.  It feels too lonely. I let Robbie out during the day so he can sun himself in the 'ocean' until he can't take the heat any longer and comes to the door to be let in. It is now going to be over 100 pretty much every day until October.
I listen to the radio when I walk Robbie in the mornings.  The guy on the radio gave the forecast as "Hot and sunny for the foreseeable future".  Yep, the dog days of summer last so long here, that the dog is born and grows old before it ever cools down.

I am full of regrets lately.  Regrets for things that I feel that Gary would disapprove of.  Things like spending my time with some strange people. I realize that I tell people too much about myself. I wish there were more widows/widowers who are younger.  Like I told the 84 year old widow next door to me, you can throw a rock down any street here and hit 10 widows.  She agreed.  All of them are in at least their 60's,70's or even older.  They seem to have made connections with people prior to their husbands dying.  This community has a lot of activities, but I am not too keen on going to hear entertainers who play Big Band Music. Nor do I want to spend my time playing Bingo or making ceramic bunnies in ceramic class. I'm beginning to think that this 55+ community living experiment is kind of a bust.

There is not a day goes by that I don't wish I were still in California. And thinking that makes me sadder all over again.


So what comes after Sadderday?  Oh yeah, just what we want here in Phoenix-  SUNday!!

I Did Not Cry For You Today

I Did Not Cry For You Today

 

I did not cry for you today.

The pain, though changed,

has not gone away.

I recall your hands,

your smell,

I see your smile,

your face.

And most of all,

feel our deep embrace.

You speak, you whisper

as you did for years,

the question you asked

into my ear,

"Do you still love me?"

Tears answer you now

as my words did then

"Yes, Yes, Yes,"

Again and again.

I did not cry for you today

until right now-

wishing you had stayed. 

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