Too Much Death In The Air

I haven’t written. I know. I’m down. Way down. I admit it. The scent of death lurking in the air. Gail, John’s wife is dead. John has an inoperable brain tumor, everyone wishes he would die, especially him. He only has days to live, Gail died yesterday. These people were like part of my family. They loved our dog, once they had their own dog. It brought back memories for them. Sweet memories.

Waiting. In tears, or on the verge of, always. Like now, all the time. Writing it down doesn’t make it easier or harder, there is no solution. Nothing can resolve this miserable situation, not a funeral, not two funerals.

Only, if they were buried together, if he died too, in the next two days, then, I could somehow see something positive because they were meant to be together always, married together, buried together. Everyone would feel better. When you tell a terminally ill brain tumor patient that his wife has passed and he says “Thank God” what does that mean?

Her suffering was more important to him than his own. I can’t seem to get over this very personal story, this couple, extended family, invited to every birthday party of my children, every summer barbecue for years.

When my father was alive they were my parents’ best friends, very best friends. When my dad died, they “adopted” my mother, were so wonderful to her, every day. When the wife coveted a certain kind of brownie I would buy it for because she loved nothing more than chocolate, except her husband, always her husband.

Somewhere, this must be bringing up my father’s funeral inside me, it has to be, I am sobbing in that way, down deep place that there is no control over. Of course it would bring up his death. I am really slow. My mother, who would never acknowledge this about herself has lost her two closest friends, while she may not relate this to her husband’s death, deep down she will feel it unconsciously.

I feel helpless and I acknowledge I am helpless. I am oversensitive and needy. I ask friends for reassurance, while direct, is not necessary. Because once asked, does it really mean the same thing? I regret asking now.

Taking a short break from social media where some people are cruel with their words, there is no room in my life for cruelty of any kind.  I want to be moving and doing and yet, I remain huddled in bed. Last night I crashed at 8:30 pm and I am still in bed at 11:00 am with no motivation to move.

Everyone wants them to be buried together at the same time. It would give the story some meaning, a tiny bit of meaning.

I cry, I dry my eyes, I cry again.

 

Is Begging From Strangers On The Internet Now “In?”

The first time I saw an ad over the internet for a couple asking for money from complete strangers, all over the world, I thought it was a joke. I literally thought it was a spoof but it wasn’t April Fool’s Day so I didn’t understand it. Until I saw another ad asking people for money to pay their expenses to cover their credit card minimum. I’ve seen actual ads for couples asking people to donate for their fertility treatments, for their sick dogs and cats and yes, one for an ailing bird.

Money

My husband was laid off from his job10 months ago. He started looking Day 1 and hasn’t stopped. I am not able to work full-time due to physical limitations (numerous health conditions including Fibromyalgia, Kidney Disease, auto-immune disease, Hashimoto Thyroiditis, Syncope and Hypotension ) but even I am looking for part-time. We are not eligible for unemployment money. It never crossed my mind to put an ad on Facebook or anywhere on the internet to beg for money. Call me old-fashioned. When did this become a socially accepted use of media? Or, a personal standard?

I’m not judging (okay, I’m TRYING not to judge) but this is all so new for old-fashioned me. Is this the younger generation’s idea of problem solving? I sincerely hope not. So, believe me this blog post is NOT about asking for money. I would not do that. But, I am asking for a favor and while I don’t have high hopes I consider this networking because my husband gave me permission to put his résumé on my blog.

He does not want a hand out. We would not accept money to pay our bills. We would rather move (which we are talking about) anywhere he can find a job. Do I want to move? Not really. I have an elderly mother here and my sister, both twenty miles away from me, I’m in the middle. Our children go to SUNY schools.

Half Empty Or Half Full?

Half Empty Or Half Full? (Photo credit: MarkyBon)

I am not asking for pity but a connection would be lovely. The following link is my husband’s resume, please read it and pass it along if you know anybody. Anybody who is somebody is even better!

http://www.proj-mgt.com/dfriedmann.pdf

If you can find it in your heart to take a minute to read his résumé, we would greatly appreciate it. I’m not too proud to network for my family, that’s what families do, we stick together. We are trying to stay positive, truly. Today was rough, maybe tomorrow will be better.

Thank you for reading my blog and for any help you can give us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Am I Just Too Old?

Facebook logo Español: Logotipo de Facebook Fr...

Facebook logo Español: Logotipo de Facebook Français : Logo de Facebook Tiếng Việt: Logo Facebook (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I miss the old days. Before computers and messages and Facebook. When people called each other on the telephone, you know the ones that hung from the wall in putrid yellow and green with curly, tangled cords. They conveyed news, good and bad. You were able to preface things with either hesitation if it was bad news or words that conveyed your discomfort. Good news was easy, people could tell by the lilt of your excited voice. It doesn’t happen that way anymore. I found out about a friend’s death on Facebook. FACEBOOK. It’s true, and it says a lot about society at least to old-fashioned me.

I’m not saying we were best friends and that we had lunch together every week but in the old days when I grew up there was a phone chain. At least you could get a phone call from someone who knew someone and there was that one moment of preparation when an unfamiliar voice would ask to speak to you somewhat hesitantly……You got the needling sensation in your stomach that something was just not right and even though you can never really be prepared, at least you had a gut feeling.

I got the message, as others did, in black and white print, in the form of a lovely, well-written memorial (Thank you, Roland in no way is this a criticism of YOU.)  Couldn’t someone have sent a mailing at least to soften the blow? I guess not, that’s not the way society works these day. I should catch up with the future, I’m just not sure if I can.

I’m still in shock. Truly, I can’t grasp that my friend is dead, maybe because I only had a hint that she was sick. I knew she was in pain once when I saw her but I didn’t know from what; everyone has a bad day now and then. Although I sensed something was wrong when she snapped at me once; that was so not like her at all.  It was pure intuition that made me feel something was  off, nothing else.

Reading her eulogy in print has not given me time to acclimate to the news. Her own Facebook page is still up, with her own heavenly smile lighting up her page.  I’m not sure how to deal with this, there is nothing I can do except get used to the idea she is gone. Having no information makes it worse.

I’ve said good-bye to Helen in my heart and I know that’s all I can do. But finding out about someone’s death on Facebook? That’s got to be a new low. At least for me.