seeing

I wonder why I never saw how badly you were looking, how close you were getting.

I saw that you were losing weight, losing height, losing energy. I could see the circles under your eyes. Big black circles. Sunken cheeks and prominent cheek bones. Bony chin and bony fingers. The very white skin. (I only checked that it wasn't blue or gray)

I never saw that your face had become a death's head.
Did I just not see it?
Or was I refusing to see it?
Or denying that I saw it?

I don't know. I'll probably never know.

There's familiarity, and the everyday changes that no one ever sees when they are looking everyday at the every day.
And there's what the heart sees, sometimes whether it's really there or not.

This picture of you with the babies haunts me now, because I can see so clearly the hovering spectre.







But when I look/looked at you, this is the man I saw.

Even after all this time; even after this great change; this is the man I see.

This is the man you were.
Always.

Stepping Forward,

Got some answers.
Well, Rita got some answers. Maybe they called her back because she has a Bethel -- or 513 -- phone  number. Maybe she just speaks more clearly than I do. You'd think cemetery people would be used to getting calls from people with difficulty speaking. But then again, maybe that's why they make people call back repeatedly until they can talk legibly. (I know that isn't the right word, but it's closer than audibly in meaning.)

So, now I have my answers.
I know what to do and have a better idea of how to do it. Only one thing holding me back. You know what that it -- same as always. But together we'll get it done. I mean with my sisters' help, and some other people. Maybe even lots of other people.

This is in Winchester, not Bethel where you will be.

It's a load off my mind to get started on that. I'm afraid I'll be a little more lost once it's done. But then again, I'm not so sure I can BE any more lost.

It's so weird to come home still.
I guess it always will be.
Hope that's a little better after I get it together and can move somewhere, but it's been half my life that I haven't come home to you.
It's such an empty, meaningless change.

I miss you.
I want to talk to you.
I wish you were here to talk back. (But, with things being as they are, I'd prefer that you don't. That would be creepy. Besides, I want you to be at peace and unworried. And loved, but I know you are that, even if it's on this side of life.)

So Sorry

for you -- me

Having difficulty keeping that last promise to you. Money is part of it, but the most frustrating part is from the other end -- authorities not co-operating. Makes me crazy; makes me want to scream and bash things. But, then again, maybe the delay is to help give me time to arrange the money get-together. That will be quite a trick since I haven't mastered yet getting enough money together to live beyond today. But it could be so.

Nothing is working out the way we thought it could. My last resort for myself (and Tracy) has become an even more unappealing option -- but that's the direction things are going.
It makes me crazy. I hate it. But if it's what must be, then it will be. I can't go around throwing out moochers so I can mooch.

Past of me wishes you could/would help, but the larger part of me wants you to know nothing of these problems. Not because of pride or any other deadly sin. Because I want you to be free from worries. Things here are to never ever ever cause you stress. I want you to be happy.

Be happy, be free, and be whatever-the-equivalent-is to breathing easy.
Love without worry.
Live without pain.

I will muddle through somehow.
I always do.

A Bad Day

Just one of those days.

Yesterday, I got a phone call from Social Security that I hadn't filled out a whole section of the appeal I filed a nd I had to hop online and do that RIGHT AWAY. Good thing we have  Internet, because that person might have had a stroke or just her head explode. She "just can't do anything with this" unless this other part was done. I didn't see whatever that part was (Disability Report) when I filled out the form. I don't think it was there; I think it's part of their delay and intimidation tactics.
Okay, that might be a bit too much.

I wish these damn lawyers would help. I don't know what I'm doing with this stuff, and I know I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm not disabled enough for the lawyers.
Or Social Security, for that matter.

Storms today and that awful noise in my head that I call subsonic music. Never had that until you were gone. It's like a bass, only the tomes arr more baritone and tenor, but the teeth-screeching effect is like that of overloud, over-amped bass being played. It can hurt so bad.

Went to the Dr yesterday and she gave me anti-dizzy medicine for the noise. Because it must be making me dizzy, at least sometimes. It's possibly labyrinthitis from the cold I had last week, a lone virus hiding out in there. Same damn medicine they gave me for the dizziness when I actually was dizzy, but it was migraine complex, not labyrinthitis.
Then as now

Let me tell you, that noise just got worse and worse with that medicine. Or maybe it was with the storms passing through. I don't know.
I was going to give it 48 hours, but I would be nuts by then. Stark raving mad.The noise eased off and even stopped some when I skipped the next dose.
And my nose started running and I have a choky cough now.
So I dunno.
I just don't know.

Wish you were here to advise and bully me into finding -- somehow! -- an ear Doctor. Because I really do need one. You could shout at me, and I could shout at you, and then we, together, could figure out what to do.
It would have been nice to have you here to take me to the ER when I was all but screaming to get the music to stop.

I miss you.
I need you.
I Love you.

Hard luck for me, I guess.