A-maze-ing

This has been a strange year. I would never have seen it coming, not for all the clues in the world.

You can probably guess that it is difficult going into this holiday season without my daughter, but there are so many other things to deal with as well. My son is going to the doctor on Monday to have his blood pressure checked again. It was pretty high today, so I spent some time talking to him about his diet, exercising, etc. I know that the root of it is this: his sister died. She was his best friend, and she's gone. They talked about everything, and she's gone. It's the holidays, and she's gone.

He's depressed but doesn't want to take medications. He needs to lose some weight (don't we all?) and is "not motivated" to go to the gym that he joined a few months back. He has a sedentary job (and stressful, too - doing credit card collections calls) and is taking classes online to finish his degree in computer science. PLUS, he's taking care of the house and 5 animals (a dog and 4 cats), since his dad is traveling a good bit of the time.

I'm worried about him, yes, but he is a grown man now. This requires me to pull back and not jump into the kind of codependent relationship I had with my daughter. I need to let him handle his life while still staying involved enough to let him know I care. He is dealing with the same crushing sadness that his dad and I are dealing with, but he finds himself now an only child. And I am far away. Communication between us takes place daily by phone, text, email, and chat. He has been to see Thelma and I twice since I left. In fact, we celebrated the Thanksgiving holiday early with him and his friend Travis. He is already planning his next visit down in January - this time with a girl friend of his (notice the distinction). He likes her, but she smokes. She seems to like him, too, and she's taking him hiking tomorrow - a very good thing! We'll see what plays out there.

That is all just the latest in what has come to be normal for us.

At the ranch, we've had visitors nearly every month, so we've been busy and a tad bit stressed out from time to time. Okay, sometimes we're really stressed out, at least I am.

I can explain it this way--have you ever had one of those days in which nothing seems to go right? When everything you say or do comes out wrong? When all of your best intentions fall flat? On those days, you just want to give up, right? You just want to throw your hands up in the air and then go back to bed. Except when it's your whole life that is going that way, you can't just go back to bed and solve anything.

If only one bad thing had happened this year, then maybe I could keep my equilibrium, but I've had

• the decision to leave my marriage (January) immediately following two months of battle with my daughter to try to get her into a recovery program for her drinking
  
• finding the long lost love of my life (late March/early April)
  
• the loss of my daughter in April after she'd been sober for 3 months (accidental death)
• a move to another part of the country in May which led to a brief battle with the ex (we've since worked things out so that we're on friendly terms again - if for nothing else but for the sake of our son, who was drained by the whole ordeal)
• a trip back to my former home in June that was part of the whole battle with the ex
• a visit with and falling out with my eldest sister in September
• a visit with Thelma's family and my youngest sister in October, which went well except for her brother (who has secondary-progressive MS as was on leave from the nursing home) getting sick and ending up spending most of his trip in the hospital (thank God he's alright but is still on antibiotics at last report)
• and a visit with my son last weekend in which his best friend exhibited the same signs of alcoholism as did my late daughter (as if I needed that reminder of how things went at home last holiday season!)

Now, I don't want you to get the idea that life is all bad, but I wanted to put it in perspective for a moment. Just re-read and digest that. Now...add to it:

1. Thelma seemed to hurt herself in late September. We thought it was something quite temporary that resulted in a swollen upper thigh and bad pain. Two ERs and a trip to Atlanta later, she is still waiting for a final diagnosis. Meanwhile, she missed the entire fall horseback riding season and has spent a good deal of it on heat/ice/medications/rest/stretching. My poor woman has been sidelined, and she's not the type to be sidelined! Trust me on this one. December 7th we will return to Atlanta for her to have an EMG test on both legs and another visit with the neurosurgeon. Remember her telling you that she was injured when she fell through a stage floor in 1994? Well, the MRIs of her lumbar spine don't look good at all. It seems as though she may be dealing with the gradual deterioration of a disk catching up with her.
2. I was diagnosed with MS and am going to see a neurologist in Atlanta 12/30. It's the soonest I could get in, but my nurse practitioner said that this is the neuro she would see if it were her.

So how do I keep my equilibrium? How does she?

I haven't had the energy to do as much writing as I used to do, nor have I read as many books. But then again, I'm with the girl I've always wanted to be with, and of course I want to spend time with her. I haven't made plans yet to return to school, but when I do, it will be online by necessity. There are no universities close by. With our health being what it has been, we haven't gotten out as much as we did in the beginning, but we did go out to dinner on Thanksgiving, and we went to a movie together tonight.

She has pulled away from many of her old friends, as some of them are in the ex's corner or are very anti-gay. She has not been able to horseback ride, or do much of anything. She has missed a lot of things she used to enjoy.

The end result is that we've both been through a tremendous amount of change and associated stress in the last year (including a major surgery she had in January). It isn't just one of us; it's both of us. We're both trying to find our center again.

We don't ever mean to let any of that get in our way, but how can we help it? There are days in which we miscommunicate or fall short of being the perfect couple. But I've really given up on being perfect at anything, truth be known. Since my daughter died, I have begun to realize that there is no perfection, there is only one's best effort.

That's what I'd say I'm giving life most days - my best effort. I try to be cheerful and hopeful and positive, but there are days during which I just want to pull the covers up over my head and give up. I can't imagine why she puts up with me. I just can't imagine.

As we make our way through this maze, we may make a few wrong turns or find a few dead ends. The key, I think, is to keep correcting our path and moving forward. As long as we're together, we'll get through it all. Otherwise, we risk wandering aimlessly through the endless hallways and right angles, the dark corners and frustrations. It's far less scary if you just reach out and take the hand of the one you love.

Peace - L

Little Gifts

I know that when my mother died, I received a gift. I got to be there during her last days, sitting with her in that lonely hospital room with my siblings, taking turns feeding her until she passed. That was a gift. I got to talk to her and say my goodbyes. I got to hold her hand. I got to bathe her forehead and feed her ice chips.

With my daughter, I got to do none of that.

Instead, she died alone in the home of someone I didn't know. The woman never came forward and offered to talk to us or anything. She wanted to fade into the background, I think, but I would have loved to talk to her. It was someone she knew from AA, so I guess anonymity might have been a factor, but still. Wouldn't you have reached out to the family of someone who died in your home? I would have. It would have been a gift to me to talk with them.

When my girl died, she was alone. I didn't get that chance to be at her side, holding her hand. Her body lay there for at least 12 hours with no one home and no one knowing what had happened. That thought haunts me on days like today. No one should have to die that way, though plenty of people do. That my daughter died that way will always torment me. I talked to her on Monday. Her brother talked to her on Wednesday. She wasn't feeling well when he spoke to her. She canceled plans to go out and shoot pool with him, their Wednesday night thing. She was afraid he was mad at her, but he wasn't. He was disappointed, because he'd been looking forward to it all week. None of us ever got to speak to her again.

On Thursday afternoon, a wave of fatigue hit me like nothing I've ever felt. I set my Away status on my work computer and fell into bed for a nap. I couldn't keep my eyes open. While sleeping, I dreamed of her. She was lying in a hospital bed - as she had so many times before - and she had all kinds of tubes and wires running to and from her body. She was wearing a pale blue hospital gown with dark blue diamonds on it. She had a peaceful look on her face and was just gazing at me. I was shouting, "What's wrong? What has happened to you now?"

You see she was always sick, and sometimes we think she made herself sick. Some of her doctors thought so, too, but no one could ever say for sure. It was hell on us all.

When I woke up, I was shaken. I thought, "Okay, she's sick. She's in the hospital again. I'll hear from her soon."

The next day at noon, the doorbell rang and it was the police, telling us she had been found dead around 4:30 that morning. They said she had been dead "at least" 12 hours. I probably could have pinpointed it more accurately for them - around 1:30 p.m. on Thursday. She was a Thursday's child. She came into this world on a Thursday and left it on a Thursday. Thursday's child has far to go.... but my daughter didn't get far. She got as far as age 25. I'll never get to see her marry or have children or get gray or start a career or any of those things. All those milestones are left idle. All those little gifts a mother looks forward to? I won't get those.

I have no idea what she was wearing when she died. Probably pajamas, as she was in bed. But when we had to go to the funeral home to view and identify her body after the autopsy, she was respectfully laid out in a simple casket. When I stepped into the chapel and saw that it was really her, that porcelain face and dark hair, looking for all the world like Snow White, a moan escaped me like nothing I've ever heard come from my mouth. I had hoped against hope that there had been a terrible mistake. I walked down the aisle toward her.

Inside the casket she lay inside a cardboard box that would be used for putting her remains into the cremation chamber. They had covered it in white gossamer fabric. When I drew near to the casket, I saw that she was in a pale blue hospital gown, covered in dark blue diamonds. A white gossamer blouse was on her underneath it, covering her neck and arms. She had sent me a message that Thursday afternoon. Her last gift to me.

But I also got the gift of knowing she was going to AA and was working hard at service. There were many things I didn't get. But what I did get was the gift of having her go to church with me one time and meet my friends there. What I did get was the gift of having her AA buddies tell me that in her last meeting, she said that she was alive because God was with her. Those were all incredible gifts. But you know? I would rather have her back with me, all things considered. That would be the greatest gift. What parent who has lost a child hasn't thought that?

Today has been hard. I needed to write about it. I was making myself a bowl of chili for dinner and started crying. I'll never get to make sure my daughter eats again. I'll never do her laundry or take her car for an oil change or visit her in the hospital or any of those things I did a hundred times over. Instead, I'll miss her the rest of my life. I'll miss her face, her laugh, her beautiful hair, her smell, her wry sense of humor... I'll never get another call from her or another visit from her. I'll never laugh with her or cry with her again. I'll just cry over her, over the fact she's gone.

I don't write nearly enough anymore, because it always turns into this - sorrow. Maybe that's the point, really.

The grief support group meets again on Thursday. I'm looking forward to seeing them, and I need to take a photo of my daughter with me for the remembrance board. I'll have to find one I can part with.

In the meantime, I'll keep plugging along. Thelma has been ailing with an injured hip that the doctors can't figure out. She hasn't been able to ride her horses, which is making her (and the horses) miserable. Keep her in your prayers that she will be mended soon and that the doctors can see to it that she is. Keep us both in your prayers for the days in which we deal with more than we think we can handle.

I'll write when I can. Peace - Louise

Long Road

Hey everyone -

Louise here. It's been a long time between posts here at GirlyRanch, for a lot of reasons. We've just celebrated 4 months together (yesterday) and are doing well! Recently there was some family drama, however, that left us quite shaken up. We're hoping that has passed and will be a blip on the radar, in the long run.

Tonight we'll be going to our first meeting of a grief support group geared just toward parental bereavement. I should have gone to such a meeting long ago...after all, my girl has been gone for 5 months now...but I kept thinking I could handle it. Just as doctors make lousy patients, people who have studied thanatology (the study of death, dying, and bereavement) think they can help themselves. I was doing my first (and probably only) semester in that discipline when my daughter died, and my term paper for that semester was on - you guessed it - parental bereavement. Had I know how much I would need the information in that paper, I could never have written it. As it turned out, though, I really needed the info. One of the national organizations I studied about has a chapter in this area. I'll be meeting with them tonight and will probably go through a box and a half of tissues while telling my story.

That's what I'm finding lately - that I cry at everything. I'm already on an anti-depressant, but you can't medicate away this kind of grief. It pervades everything I do. What I'm hoping to get out of this support group is a set of peers who have been in my shoes, a group of people who really understand what I'm going through on a personal, core level. Lots of people have given me their love, support, and sympathy, but I want to know some people who have come out okay on the other side of this grief. Later, I can offer to be supportive to newcomers. I was going to be a grief counselor, after all. Now I am too frozen in my tracks to know what I want to do.

I got my belongings shipped to me over the weekend. Included in them were things that belonged to my daughter. Among the things I have encountered so far: clothing that still smells like her, her cherished make-up case that contained her nail polish and piercing supplies (she did body piercing for people), a note she wrote to me about 5 years ago, and her purse. When I opened her purse, I saw her glasses case. I opened it and saw her eyeglasses, just as they were when she took them off for the last time before falling into a sleep from which she would never wake.

My blood felt like ice water, and my vision seemed to narrow. I closed her purse quickly and put it into the plastic bin. I'll deal with things like that later, when I'm stronger. I still can't believe she's gone. There is very little comfort to be had some days because nothing anyone says or does (including my dear Thelma) takes the sting out of my torn heart. Maybe this support group will be good for me.

Anyway, I hope you will keep checking back with us at the ranch. We will post updates as we can, but we are still both going through divorces. Maybe you will keep us in your prayers, if you pray. We would both appreciate that.

Love, L.

Taillights Receding

Now I know how my mother felt.

They tell you that you won't be able to truly put yourself in your parents' place until you've had or raised children. There is something about having to mend a boo-boo, potty train a kid, hear them shriek from their room - "I hate you!" that shocks you into a deja vu moment of "Wow, this is how my mom must have felt."

This morning around 5 a.m., my son and his best friend drove away from Girly Ranch to head back home. We had them visiting since Thursday night and spent our days talking, eating, drinking margaritas (okay - that was in the evening), and doing some fun things. Thelma got to know my boy a little more, and we enjoyed spending time with his best friend, as well. I wish I could post some pictures of the visit here, but for now we're laying low. Lots of divorce stuff going on, and though I've taken great pains to hide us away here in the blog, you never know.

It wasn't until last night, though -- when I was making sure all the boys' laundry was given back to them, that they had snacks for the road, that the coffee maker was ready, that the car was cleaned out and packed -- that I realized how my mother must have felt when I came for a visit and was packing to leave. She must have felt the same rock in the pit of her stomach thinking about how long it might be before I came to visit again. At first it was once a year, then it became less frequent as I added children, pets, and more responsibilities to my plate. It was really hard to do when I was traveling with work - and now she's gone. I'm hoping that my son - the only child I have left - will continue to want to visit us here and spend time doing fun things.

I swore I wouldn't cry when he left, but as Thelma picked up her blanket and rose from the rocking chair on the porch, as the taillights of my son's car passed through the gates of Girly Ranch, I burst into tears. Thelma hugged me and took me back inside.

"I wonder how many times my mama has cried like that when I left," she said.

We drifted back off to sleep at some point, but the ranch feels very empty today. I'll be waiting for the boys' next visit with longing.

Peace - L

The saga continues...

Well continuing on about my dad and his murderer. The 21 year old shot my dad on a Wednesday morning at 6:15. My dad had normally opened the store at 6:30, but the newpaper deliverer came earlier that day than usual to deliver the paper. So my dad decided to go ahead and leave the store door open, being that it was only 15 minutes until he opened anyway. The young jock came in and asked for a pack of cigs and began shooting until my dad hit the floor dead. The whole scene was captured on the store video, so there was no doubt who committed the crime. Now, it was a matter of catching the guy.

He left out of the store and ran away to a hiding place until Friday night. He escaped to a rural area outside of town where he stole a big rig and drove it into the ditch. Then he stole a tractor to try to pull the big rig out of the ditch when someone saw all the ruckus. Needless to say, he was caught. He is now serving life without the chance of ever seeing the outside world again. If he does try to appeal he will go straight to death row. It's very hard for me to have a forgiving spirit with this kind of trauma, but I CAN say my mother is a forgiving person as she had one of her ministers give my dad's Bible to his murderer. He didn't realize he had my dad's Bible until the trial, when the judge gave my mom a chance to speak. She told him about the man he'd murdered. That he would have given him the shirt off of his back, or helped him in any way. She told him he now owned his Bible. The young guy broke into tears and asked for forgiveness.

This was so hard for me (traumatic) as I was an only daughter and the baby of our family. I was a daddy's girl. He was the ONLY one in my immediate family who accepted me as I am. He never said a negative thing to me about my sexuality. I lost my best friend and advocate, forever! Somehow, I know he is looking down from heaven and seeing my happiness.

Back to "our" story...back in January, I had to have a hysterectomy and was incapacitated for a couple of months in recovery as I had complications with the surgery. I had bought a computer and thought it was a good time to try to discover the world of the internet. I had heard about Facebook and decided to join and reconnect with old school friends and family. I found I enjoyed the space and stayed on it quite a bit during this time. One day, on April 1st, I got a message from Louise. I racked my brain at first trying to remember her as I didn't recognize her last name. It threw me a curve. Then, oh my gosh, I remembered!

My heart pounded as I tried to type and answer her message. I told her I had remembered us being friends all those years ago and that I was glad to hear from her. Then our replies were passing instantly back and forth. We talked about old times and people. As time went on over the next day or so we became closer, more open. There was an excitement stirring in me once again. I wanted to get to know her more. Know what was going on in her life. Wondering what that fire was I felt when we were young.

My life for the last 8 years had been so dry, bland, and cold. I tried to make my marriage work. I tried to love my husband honestly and faithfully. I had made a commitment and was determined to fulfill this commitment til death do us part. But I was so sad and lonely. And he was not loving me as he should a wife. Not giving me affection, attention, or a sexual relationship. And my husband and I already slept in seperate rooms. Our marriage was one that had long been burnt out. We were just going through the motions of what we should do as a married couple. We had everyone fooled that we were happy, in actuality, we were far from that. I had stayed long enough trying make it work, make everyone else happy. Trying to live up to their expectations. I was ready for a change. Missing my old self, I allowed those passionate feelings to come back in when I heard from Louise. Remembering those looks we gave each other back then, I knew there was something that had happened between us that no one else but us realized. And it was hot!

More to come.....
Thelma

The Nest

We have been suffering from a bug here at Girly Ranch. For the last week or so, we've been terribly sick with something of a stomach flu, caught on the heels of eating some KFC out of sheer desperation (we were starving, and we were going to be getting home late). Well, let me tell you -- we are more than ready to get out of this house and do something fun!!! It isn't that we don't like spending time together, but we'd rather be spending time doing something other than lying in the fetal position wondering when the next wave will hit.

Yesterday, Thelma did a little housekeeping, including putting a shine on the wood floors. When she went outside to hang out the mop and dump the bucket, she got swarmed by flying insects. Coming back inside, she said, "I think we have some bees under the deck or something. Could you check it out when you get a minute?" She, you see, is highly allergic to bee venom. That scares the heck out of me, because if something happened to her ... well...

So I did the good girlfriend thing and went out to check it out, though I'm terrified of flying things, myself. I crept outside onto the deck and turned toward the stairs leading down to the carport. The flying things would have come up from that area. We have a lot of lawn equipment down there and were up and down those stairs quite a bit during and since we moved in.

Down the stairs I went, slowly, barely stirring the air. I tried to stay calm. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I went a few feet into the carport and turned to look up at the underside of the deck.

There hung an inverted teardrop shaped nest, busy with flying insects - hornets, to be exact, though I wasn't sure until I looked up nest styles on the 'net. I slowly went back up the stairs, my heart pounding in a way I hoped they wouldn't notice. I've only been stung a couple of times in my life, but I've heard the tales about hornets and how they attack. I don't know if it's true or not, but I didn't want to find out firsthand!

Thelma, being the cowgirl she is, immediately went into action. She got the wasp & hornet spray that shoots a 30-ft stream and went out the basement door after the nest. I tried to stop her, but when she sets her mind to something, stand by! I kept the door open and an eye on her. She got just close enough to fire that stream, and she doused them good, running back into the basement afterwards.

The hornets swarmed madly about the nest, trying to figure out what had just happened. They got slower and slower and eventually some of them dropped to the concrete below. She sprayed them later on, just before dark, with the remainder of the can. We're hoping they're all gone today so that we can remove the nest. But it was an adventure. I'm glad the adventure didn't result in a trip to the ER or even a single sting.

Now...on to my next cup of coffee....

Love, L

Thelma's Turn

(Thelma)
Well I am just about to burst to tell some of my side of this story...

I did meet Louise when I was 15. I did give her the "LOOK"! The look like I wanted to squeeze her or something? At the time I didn't understand what it was that I really wanted to do? I was so young and afraid of what I was feeling. Afraid of being disowned by my friends. I was in the least frustrated because I really wanted to act upon those feelings of desire for her that was stirring inside of me. Plus there was always someone with us and I couldn't seemed to ever get her alone.

Well, time went on and she moved away. We went in our own directions, not knowing or understanding what it was we were feeling for each other. I did finally "come out" eventually but my Louise was gone. I had dated women throughout my life and even lived with someone for close to 7 years. I got seriously injured on my job which resulted in changes in my life that sent her into the arms of someone else. I was hurt and it was over. Also, along about the same time that all of that happened my dad was murdered, shot twice in the chest and twice in the head, by a 21 year old guy who was on drugs. This devastated me.

During all of my "out" life, my mom stayed on my back constantly, saying that because I was gay, I was going to hell. The pressure got so bad that I finally gave in to her and married a guy. I was in this marriage for 8 long years. I was so unhappy and miserable. I knew this wasn't my place..my home. More to come.......

Thelma