Life, It’s All About Loss, Isn’t It?

Every day, we go through hundreds, thousands of small loses, I’m about ready to burst into tears so I know it’s true. It’s one of those instinctual, hit me in the gut feelings. My grown-up children left to go back to college today and even though I will see them in three weeks, it doesn’t matter. Children always leave you. People you love always leave you. Why is that not written in any manual so we can anticipate it?

From their first highly anticipated step, to their first day of nursery school


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and first grade your child will always be leaving you. Yes, it is good and you have done a great job in raising them. You should be proud of their independence and pat yourself on the back. You have done a great job building their self-esteem and their confidence, but it still hurts like a knife twisting into your belly cutting bloody veins with a torture only known to parents.


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We experience that hurt from the moment that they are born until the moment we die. Our children will never understand it until they, themselves have babies of their own. Don’t bother explaining it to them, my kids are used to my tears, they think I’m just the mushiest person in the world, and I am. But, in no way do they think that every time they leave I feel like I’m being stabbed or that my heart breaks a thousand different times, every time they leave, nor should they ever know.

You would think I would get used to it but it’s something I can never get used to. I remember my parents used to travel a lot when I was in high school, maybe even junior high and I would weep, standing at the kitchen table, looking down six flights as they stood waving until their taxi arrived.

I was inconsolable until they left. Then, magically, I was quite happy and calm and independent. Why the shift of pain so rapidly? I’m not really sure, I hated being left, abandoned. But, once they left, I was independent and had a great time. Freud anyone?

Once someone actually leaves, I’m fine. It’s the build up and the anticipation that always gets to me, always has. At my old age I don’t think my patterns will change but I always give it a shot. “I’m not good at good-byes” I say honestly to my children, they expect it, they know and understand. But, they will only truly understand when/if they have children of their own.

Maybe we will be lucky to be grandparents, to see our children have children. To see our grown-up kids do the precise things they chastised us for, that would be funny. Life is a circle, how we got so far in the game, I have no idea. I feel young, time escapes us, but as I watch my children grow into adults, I know too, we have aged accordingly.


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Haiku Horizons, Give

They leave, shut the door,

grown up children, back to school

Give away my heart.


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Blow sun into breath

Whisper hope, love, give freely

Share your happiness.


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Giver of Life, yours,

Proud, growing, red lips shaking

Don’t stop hugging me.


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Give yourself a chance

Nobody is perfect, kind

Learn to accept, Love.




 

 

 

The Art Of Changing




Every time my two college kids come home for a visit, in this case, Thanksgiving, I forget, that it takes 48 hours for all of us to get used to each other again. I wish I could remember that beforehand because it would take the sting out of the inevitable: regression,


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dirty looks, initial combative behavior and sibling rivalry. What is it about coming home that automatically brings out old behavior patterns?

I remember this happening when I visited my parents when I was in college so I am not sure you really can stop it. I think you become child-like when you go home to visit your parents and old habits die-hard. To this day, it is never a good scenario when my sister and I are alone with our mom, together. I never liked being with two other friends, it’s not a good combination for me.


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But, after two days of settling in with our children it’s wonderful, just like old times. It feels like they have never left and you wonder how you can let them go, again? The house will be so quiet without them. There are four of us now drinking coffee in the morning or snacking together at night, sitting on the bed together chatting and laughing, interrupting each other and rehashing the mini-dramas of Thanksgiving.

I know it won’t be like this forever, they will get married or move away or we will move so I cherish every second. I’m putting these memories in a special place in my heart, tucked away, like the memories of their childhood. The difference is that I have photographs of when they were young and sweet and innocent. I have a mountain of photographs of each stage of their lives.

But this, this one memory, lasted ten minutes, it is like a snapshot in my mind and I try desperately to hold on to to it, in my heart, hoping it will last a very long time.


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The four of us all sitting together laughing and reminiscing, back and forth, happy, conversing, joking with no hint of displeasure or dismay. All of us being in tune with each other, bantering, back and forth, replaying the day, interrupting each other and finishing each others sentences.

The thought of them leaving in a couple of days just seems incredible, and lonely and sad. And yes, it will take another 48 hours for their laughter to die down, for my husband and I to get used to the solitude and the quietness and enjoy each other and the peace, all over again.

Change is inevitable, get used to it, it never goes away.


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The Big Swallow

Dear Dr. Batman.

Every night my mouth gets dry and I try to convince myself that it is from the allergy pill I have taken. In the morning I can barely part my lips and my whole mouth feels like it is full of cotton, as if I had been at the dentist all night getting painful injections, mouth puffed up and out, red cheeks pulsating with pain.

I swallow carefully, a few times in a row, even though there is nothing to swallow. I reach for the tall glass of clear, cold water with lemon that stands next to me on the wooden bed stand and take a few tentative sips.


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Yes, my mouth is dry, check. It is a bit scratchy, check. Can I call it an official sore throat? No. Is it “The Dreaded Eppiglottitis?” Thank God, no or at least not yet. I rue the day that happens to me again, for the third time (or is it the fourth?) My fellow eppiglottitis sufferers know what I mean, they know EXACTLY what I mean; it’s not a pain that you can ever forget. When we get it, we get it BAD, there is no way of getting it any other way. It doesn’t come in light, medium or strong degrees, it only comes in “devastating and horrific.” Believe me, childbirth is nothing compared to this.


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Apparently, there is a vaccine that is given to children that could prevent this from ever happening to adults again but no one will give it to us grown-ups. I’ve asked “why?” a bunch of times but apparently “it’s not used for this purpose.” There are a million things used for different purposes that help other conditions not used for the original intentions but help others with different maladies. Why no one will look into this, I HAVE NO IDEA.

I was put on methotrexate, a drug for cancer, when I didn’t have cancer. I had Fibromyalgia and my hot-shot brainiac crazy as all hell Rheumatologist prescribed it to me. It made me feel great, best drug I was on. Unfortunately, it had bad side effects so I couldn’t stay on it but boy, did it help. He thought outside the box and while I couldn’t take the drug, the man was a genius. A crazy, arrogant genius but still, a genius.

Epiglottitis is a bitch, there’s no way around that. It’s a sure-fire way to get the worst possibile pain and a speedy pass to the Emergency Room if you feel your throat swelling up and you have trouble breathing. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for SOME CREATIVE doctors to at least look into the reasons why we CAN’T have the vaccine that is given regularly to babies.

People, doctors, do not want to go out of their comfort zones, even if it is to save people an enormous amount of pain. A medical friend in England asked me why the American doctors were so hesitant to do this, I had no answer. To her, there was an illness and a cure, it made sense. It makes sense to me too. What happened to “First do no harm?” I guess that is antiquated or is now synonymous with “It’s not in my job description.”

That really stinks. Help us, someone, please.

There is only one pediatrician that I remember from when my adult children were little that I can imagine going out of his way to even think about this. He recently returned from helping sick people in Africa. He’s THAT kind of nice guy. Please, Dr. Batman from MKMG?


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If anyone, I know you would try or at least think about it, It would mean so much to so many people. Please, will you just read this letter? I know you will do at least that much, I wouldn’t bother to send it to anyone else.

You’ve always been kind to everyone, moms, dads and especially children. Just take a quick look.

Thanks in advance.

Eppiglottitis Mom

Happy Yellow Friday #5

I am not into fancy cars, a car is just a means of transportation for me. If I won the lottery I wouldn’t buy an expensive car, the only car I have ever wanted was a Yellow Volkswagen Beetle.

Not the new Man Beetle, the Beetle from a few years ago, the one that had a small vase in the front for a flower, a daisy.  It was the perfect baby boomer car. It’s still a car, I think, that is just meant for me to drive.  Happy Yellow Friday to all.


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Haiku Horizons, Store

Little brown squirrel

Storing emotions away

As he does with nuts.


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Red, dreaded fear, fire

Store front explodes, child inside

Rescue my baby…


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Hey Oprah, How Do You Like Bill Cosby Now?

I’m sorry ( actually, I’m NOT) but I believe the alleged reports against Bill Cosby. Just because he has had a great national reputation in the past touting pudding and jello and being the best dad ever on The Cosby Show means nothing to me.  Nothing.


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He really did seem too good to be true. He is (was?) best friends with Oprah (of course) and if anyone get’s Oprah’s stamp of approval, they automatically get mine. Not this time.  Basically, I support each and every woman who has stood up and said (allegedly) that Bill Cosby has touched them/raped them/treated them inappropriately.

Why do I feel this way? I don’t know, call it a gut feeling. There are a lot of women accusing him, this does not seem like some really bad publicity stunt or a class action suit for money. The stories are similar and they all involve what is now called the “date rape” drug. I’m sure whatever happened, Bill Cosby and his team of lawyers will define it as  “Sex Addiction” which only really rich people with even richer lawyers can afford. Maybe in a few years after rehab people will forget about it. I hope not. Not me. Not a lot of people I’m sure.

You know what this feels like? The O. J. Simpson trial. I knew it reminded me of something. That same bitter feeling, the same green bile rising up in my throat. When the jury all said he was “Not Guilty” to all the disgusting offenses, planning to kill his ex-wife Nicole Brown and her friend, Ron Goldman. I remember watching the television and bursting into tears. Sometimes money can buy anything.

Maybe Bill Cosby can hire the same or similar team of lawyers. second generation creeps. It’s possible that he will be tried and found not guilty. But, just as many of us felt that OJ did do the crime, (and later confessed in some unofficial way) we will be looking at Bill Cosby, not as an educator or a role model anymore. We will no longer think of his wonderful show in the same light.

We will remember BIll Cosby, the rapist. The man who preached a good family life and behaved like an animal, in my opinion. I understand people are complex and they have many, many sides, some bad, some good. Yes, we should all be more forgiving and understanding. But, this? Sorry, I can’t forgive any man who rapes women, raped her with a trick by using a drug in their cocktail. If Oprah stands up for him, I will lose all respect for her too.

Hey, Oprah, we’re waiting for your opinion.


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Just remember how much integrity is important to you. Also, I cannot in any way take credit for the following quote and I do wish I knew the author’s name to give him/her credit but I read somewhere a very simple and powerful quote: “IF THIS HAPPENED TO YOUR DAUGHTER, HOW MUCH MORE PROOF WOULD YOU NEED?” If you wrote this, I would LOVE to give you credit.

Exactly.

Whoever wrote that: Bravo.

I am so mad on behalf of all these women I could spit. How dare you (any one) not believe them or not at least interrogate Bill Cosby? If Bill Cosby was not a celebrity but an unknown man living in a poor section of Queens, would this be handled the same way? It is 2014 “STAND BY YOUR MAN” was written a long time ago, Really, Camille? Is this what you want? Power is independence, not dependence.

Think about it.

 

Kim K’s Greasy Butt And The Kardiashians

Sorry, Not a big fan of the Kardashians.

Never have been and never will be, besides, what are people fans of exactly? I am being serious. How have the Kardashians branded themselves in such a way that they are everywhere making shit tons of money by doing nothing but smiling or not smiling, wearing clothes or not wearing clothes?

I don’t get it, seriously, I really don’t. Someone, maybe the Mom Kardashian (Oh, she would love this, GRANDMA Kardashian) is a marketing genius because that’s about all the genius I see in that family. Talent? Nope. Brains? I have NO idea. Class? I’m laughing. What is it that people really like about them?

Is it just a reality tv show gone wild? I can’t say I have ever watched an episode, actually maybe once or twice, but so what? All I know, in my humble opinion, is that Mom Kardashian-Jenner (now ex-Jenner?) should be going to therapy


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to accept that she is not 22 anymore and stop dressing as if she is. Ouch, I know, Granny. But, eventually you will have to accept your age even though I”m sure you will have as many plastic surgeries as you can. How many you have had already is anyone’s guess. It is only with the kindness of my heart that I have not posted the “before” pictures (check it out.)

I think I did like Bruce Jenner when he was an Olympic swimmer but now? He’s a joke and why he is letting himself become

Bruce Jenner (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

the butt of a joke (no pun intended) is beyond me. If my husband started wearing bright red nail polish and completely changing his style, we would have a very long talk in a therapist’s office, ASAP.

So, if I get the gossip straight, and believe me this could be all wrong, Mom Kardashian is now dating a younger dude who happens to be black, Khloe , sorry, KOURTNEY is thankfully married to Scott Disick (I hope that’s the right sister) and pregnant with her second child) one of them ( KHLOE) is allegedly NOT the child of a Kardashian (which would not be the end of the world and why she doesn’t take a DNA test is saying A LOT.) Remember those questions on the PSAT’s : which of these items does not look like the


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other? I think that if you put all the Kardashian sisters together, Kourtney would be the answer but there is nothing WRONG with that, in fact, some would say it’s a benefit unless perhaps her biological father is OJ, but what do I know?  I think there are two mini Kardashians, one of whom, Kendall (?) dropped her last name and is a model. Not sure about the other one. Oh, wait, I think her name is Kylie (maybe.))

If I have gotten the name of the sisters wrong, please don’t correct me because frankly, I really don’t give a rat’s ass. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) In my opinion only, the only likeable person in the family to me is baby North West.  I truly hope her parents will protect her from the “cray cray” Kardashian family, just saying. Because I believe in one thing: Kanye and Kim absolutely ADORE their baby girl. While I may not agree with designing a huge diamond for my own three-year old, hey, it’s their baby and their money.

We know you love her and would not want to harm her in any way. Protect her, Kanye and Kim, be your own family, set some boundaries, please. Yeah, right.

Grief: The Great Equalizer, RIP Mike Nichols

I’m so sorry, Diane Sawyer,

I just heard about the death of your husband and your children’s father, Mike Nichols.  Believe me, I know what death of a loved one feels like and it is torture. I know a little about what you are going through and I guarantee you I feel your pain. There is no other way to describe it but heartbreaking and life changing. It really does feel like your heart is physically breaking


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apart and I am not saying this in a metaphoric way. Everything changes from the moment your loved one dies, well, forever. Please accept my condolences.

In cases like this, all the money in the world makes not an iota of difference. The pain in your heart has nothing to do with your bank account. For this, we are all one, rich or poor, famous or not, the death of someone dear has nothing to do with economics.

It’s not bad enough that I am sensitive and tend to take on other people’s grief, like when Robin Williams died. I still struggle with that at times. Or young people who have overdosed for no reason at all, parents losing children. Now, your husband, the famous director, Mike Nichols, is gone and while I do not feel emotionally involved with the movies (because I can’t attach myself to movies), I am emotionally involved with the survivors, you and your family.

Let’s face it, we weep for the loss of our loved ones. We will not be able to touch their hand or feel their hug or just talk over a cup of coffee. They will not be in our lives anymore and our heart explodes with sadness at the loss and we know there is nothing we can do to help, except be the best friend we can.

Diane Sawyer for many of us is like family in the world of television.  To me, she is one of the greatest anchors of all times. I grew up with her, I was always an ABC girl and I still am. I never wavered.

To think of her in excruciating pain hurts me.


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Diane has been part of our living room for years, we know her as a news anchor, part of the ABC Family, and the other part of Mike Nichols. She may have been in the spotlight in front of the camera but Mike Nichols was the genius behind. Together, they were an amazing couple. You could just feel it.

The Absence Of Color




I always thought I hated Winter with such a passion just because of the harsh, brutal temperatures, the raw wind and the mountains of snow and the biggest evil, ice. For someone with no balance looking down at a sheet of ice and having nothing to hold to grip, is pure terror. Those reasons alone are enough to hate Winter but I figured out recently there was something else that I hadn’t put into words before.

 

 

Winter is gray, black and white, while the other seasons are filled with vivid colors in various things. I miss the bright bunch of wildflowers popping up in the meadow, multi-colored and alive, the rich crimson of roses trailing down a newly painted white trellis. The bright green of a neighbor’s lawn, glossy and spiked like army soldiers standing at attention.

 

Nate, our neighbor, spends hours on his lawn, every Spring, Summer and Fall to make sure that each blade of grass is equal. I know that in the Winter he is just longing to be outside, as much as I am. I have dubbed him “The Mayor,” the unofficial mayor of our little neighborhood.

 

It’s a very long Winter here, the snow will start falling any day now and it will last, at least, until late April. I don’t like it but I have no choice so this year I am accepting it, not fighting with it. Moaning and groaning about it hasn’t helped before and it only makes ME feel worse so why bother? I will keep myself happy doing something else, I will learn to bake or cook new things. Maybe, I will write a book.

I guess after the long Winter I appreciate the Spring even more. Oh, when the first bud of a purple crocus  pops up, sometimes even through the snow we know the end of Winter is near. Soon the budding yellow leaves of a forsythia bush in our backyard will slowly begin to show themselves and I cut some stalks to bring inside the house. I put them in a tall, dark blue vase, the only one I will use, loving the contrast of dark blue and yellow. They stand proudly waiting to burst, happiness from the outside proud to bring us joy inside our home.


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In the Spring and Summer the sun is out shining brightly against a baby blue sky. Colorful birds sing to each other, we listen to their songs, we watch their beautiful, petite bodies flash in front of our eyes with different colors. I will try hard to let the absence of color in the outside world not strip the color of my world as well. I’m sure I can do it, it will be fine. I’m looking at Winter with a different attitude. I’ll find color inside.