That's my rather pathetic collection of plants that have been living on the back porch steps lately. From left to right starting with the pot on lowest step we have basil (which is obviously suffering), my Roseland mango, my sea grape with a sort of bug-eaten avocado growing alongside it sharing the space, and the ginger I planted from roots I'd bought at the Asian market. I have just discovered that this form of ginger, most commonly used for culinary purposes in grocery stores, is called Zingiber officinale.
I am quite aware that all of these plants need more sun. A LOT MORE SUN. Sun is not something we get directly in this yard except for a very few small spots. The ginger can be planted directly into the ground as could the basil, of course. But I bought it hoping to keep it alive for a few months where I could tend to it. I need to put all of those plants on the kitchen porch, I suppose. That does get the direct late afternoon sun. That is the spot where my Crocs go to shrink when I forget and leave them out there.
I have not done shit today.
Do you know why?
Do you know why?
No, seriously, do you know why? Because I don't. I just didn't feel like it. I'm not depressed or overly anxious and the weather has been not as monsterously horrible as it has been. I just didn't want to do anything. So I made our hearty Sunday morning breakfast which we ate around noon, and did some laundry and that has been that. Oh, I've done other stuff but not a bit of it constructive. Or creative.
And I don't care.
And I don't care.
I've spent a good amount of time reading tributes to Jimmy Buffett on Facebook. Everyone from Paul McCartney to President Biden to Elton John to people who only met him briefly, have written their stories of how the man connected with them and what that connection meant to them. He just sounds like such a very, very nice person.
I've had some of his songs in my head all day. I've always said that if you have an ear worm that's driving you nuts, just go listen to a Jimmy Buffett song for two minutes and it'll be gone. Doesn't matter what song. The song I've had in my head almost all day is one he wrote called "Lone Palm." It's not a big get-up-and-dance party song. It's reflective, and one verse especially, makes me cry. It goes like this.
I've had some of his songs in my head all day. I've always said that if you have an ear worm that's driving you nuts, just go listen to a Jimmy Buffett song for two minutes and it'll be gone. Doesn't matter what song. The song I've had in my head almost all day is one he wrote called "Lone Palm." It's not a big get-up-and-dance party song. It's reflective, and one verse especially, makes me cry. It goes like this.
I knew this girl made of memories and phrasesWho lived her whole life in both chapters and stagesDanced 'til the dawnWished all her worries awayWell she wasn't crazy, no she wasn't madShe just wanted the father that she never hadFrom under my lone palmI think about her today
That was me.
That was me.
That was me.
I absolutely remember listening to that song and hearing it truly for the first time. I broke down. In a car in an alley behind a Dunkin' Donuts in Tallahassee beside a bar we were going to go in on a Friday night. It was one of those moments.
****************
Mr. Moon chain-sawed more of that reptile-looking branch that fell in our yard during the storm and hauled it to the burn pile. We talked about how big it was getting and I said, "We could burn a body on that thing."
"Okay," he said. "Who do you want to burn?"
"I need to ponder this," I said.
I do love that man.
"Okay," he said. "Who do you want to burn?"
"I need to ponder this," I said.
I do love that man.
There's some sort of FSU football game (I think) on the TV tonight and he invited Tom over to watch it with him. I don't think that Tom has his power back yet and he's going to take a shower here too. And that good man of mine drove to Publix and bought chicken wings and cut up vegetables for them to eat so that I would not be put out too much. I will eat some leftovers and will probably use the uneaten cut-up vegetables to make soup this next week.
I guess that's all I have to say. I was sort of thinking today about how everyone in this world who lives past the age of thirty has probably experienced grief of one sort or another and how I am so curious as to how people do indeed experience it. I know that there are so many factors involved. How close to you was the person who died? Were they part of your daily life? Your family? A person with whom you had a difficult relationship? A person who had hurt you? A person whom you had once loved beyond reason but had become distant from you? A person who had somehow touched you in a way that may not make sense but is as real as can be? Someone you have admired from a distance? A celebrity? And yes, we can absolutely grieve celebrities when they die because of what they meant to us.
So if you want to tell a grief story, I would love to hear it. I will tell you that when Sue died, I could do almost nothing but watch informercials on TV for weeks. I remember that a few weeks after she died, Glen and I went down to Posey's which was a bar on the water in St. Marks, Florida where there was smoked mullet and boiled shrimp and beer and sometimes live music and little else, and a woman I barely knew asked me how I was doing and I told her that a good friend of mine had died and that I was completely lost. She told me that her father had died very recently and her her job gave her like a week off.
I could not believe that. I could not take that in. We hugged and we cried.
I think of her to this day.
I could not believe that. I could not take that in. We hugged and we cried.
I think of her to this day.
Love...Ms. Moon
Brought to my knees grief twice. First time I was early thirties, and my brother killed himself. I got my children off to school and back again; went to work and did my job. But the instant the girls were in bed I was a frenzy of quiet weeping and walking a circle through my living room, kitchen, dining room, living room. I probably walked several hundred miles from August to whenever it ended.
ReplyDeleteSecond time I was in my late forties. The college student who boarded with me, and was killed by a backing, unlighted caboose. Ironically, he died within minutes of his beloved, ailing grandfather. His parents got the news leaving that hospital room. Such a senseless death. His parents sued and the railroad was found in the wrong. The settlement was not made public. That boy was like a child of mine.
I was in the 6th grade when my Grandma Lamb died ... My Mom's mom!
ReplyDeleteI was 16 when my Mom was killed in a car accident by a drunk driver! My Dad remarried 8 months later!
Some part of me grieved, but I am not sure which part! I tend to disassociate from the bad stuff!
Oh, Marcia. That is such a sad story- to lose your grandmother and mother when you. were so young. I can completely understand the disassociation. I doubt anything could be more normal for a sixteen year old girl to do in those circumstances.
DeleteMen sure do seem to want to remarry in a big fat hurry, don't they?
I deeply understand both of these reactions. I remember distinctly asking my mother after Sue died if my mother could have Jessie and Lily over for the night so that I could wail and mourn and she said, "Oh Mary. You know how I feel about the Olympics." They were on TV. We need space to rend our garments when we grieve. the Bible got that shit right.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I've never so openly expressed that grief I felt. Numbing. Truly it bent me down.
DeleteGrief like that does bend you down. It can make you feel like you're broken. So hard.
Deletehard to say in nutshell..have lost many close friends in past 10 years, but not *deep heart* friends... still very painful, especially because some were very abrupt, unexpected and tragic endings, and some were hospicing and no longer social other than with their carers. Took me a while to grasp that they were not shunning ME...they were just coping with only what they could....and that did not include me...which I came to learn. My folks....both of whom passed 6 yrs ago were probably my most painful. though not an ideal relationship with either of them..... I did all my grieving for months prior to their hospice passing. Even having worked in medicine and providing comfort and solace to many families dealing with a waning loved one......I had never experienced it for myself. Whole different story. Once they passed on, I was relieved....but had to do much deep reflection into my own soul and heart, which was good. Death is always difficult and challenging...... each story has it's own heart and soul. Made me tear up just writing this....... and I'm not an eloquent writer.....but here I am baring what I can
ReplyDeleteSusan M
You expressed yourself beautifully, Susan. It IS a whole different story when it's someone you love (on at least some levels) is the one dying, isn't it? Hard to distance yourself from that. And I love what you said about each story having its own heart and soul. You are so right.
DeleteThis is a subject I can't get into. I've had so much of it, and words don't get there. It gets into my art though.
ReplyDeleteI completely honor and understand that. Art is a good way to deal with deep feelings. Things too deep to perhaps get from soul and heart to words.
DeleteI grieved for my cat Angel who was stolen from the front yard here in the flats where I live. I cried so hard my ribs and stomach hurt and the crying went on for weeks. I finally adopted Lola hoping it would help, but it didn't.
ReplyDeleteI also grieved, but less so, when an Australian singer/actor I'd loved since I was 17 died. Oddly enough, I didn't grieve when my parents died, we weren't close and I knew they were dying as both had cancer, different kinds, so I had time to get used to the idea.
We had a dog whom I grieved horribly when she died. She was a most special dog and I still grieve her death. I think we often feel more pain when a beloved animal dies than when a supposed loved one dies when we really didn't have much of a relationship to them. And the deaths of some celebrities have knocked me to my knees. They represented things to me that were hugely important. I thought I'd never get over John Lennon's death.
DeleteWhen my dad died in 2005, while I was sad, I knew it was a blessed relief for him so my grief was very tempered, all the more so since every week I sent him a very very large postcard from France telling him how much I loved him. The last one arrived after he had died but I was ok with that as I knew I'd made the effort. Then mom went in 2016 but I'd made every effort to see her when I could by flying to England and saw her just a couple of weeks before she went, so again, while I was sad I was calm about it. My brother dying in 2019 was sudden and a shock but at least I'd just retired and was able to fly to Wales and spend time with him and talk, so again I was ok. Maybe we just don't "do grief" in my family! Doesn't mean we didn't love each other but I guess that's very British for you!
ReplyDeleteI think a lot of how we grieve is cultural. Rituals that we go through when people die vary immensely from culture to culture. How we do it is how we do it and that is all there is to that.
DeleteI often grieve for this young man I met in the early 1980s, just as AIDS was starting to make the news. He was 19 years old and from a large catholic Irish family, totally and deeply in the closet, but when he was with his real friends (of whom I could count myself, how lucky was I!), he was wild and happy and so full of life. He had dropped out of school, had been unemployed for a while, moved around and most likely made some money hustling. Then he was gone one day. We searched and asked around frantically, called the police, the family. We were told, he probably just took the boat to England, like so many Irish gay men did at the time, but we were certain he would have told us, we had encouraged him to leave, had a list of contacts ready. A week later, his body was found, he had jumped into the river. When I meet somebody with the same name, Marcus, I see him running up the stairs all smiles, lifting my baby from the floor and swinging her around in a wild dance. It was a hard time, AIDS and the way it was weaponised against gay men at the time was a curse, so much harm was done.
ReplyDeleteOh, Sabine! This made me cry. Of course you grieved that beautiful boy. How could you not? When I think of how so many queer youths end up trying to kill themselves or doing it successfully because of stupid, asinine, ignorant religious and cultural mores I want to never stop screaming and crying. I imagine that Marcus took great comfort in your love and friendship. That probably kept him here for quite awhile.
DeleteIt was rather a shock to me to discover that as I pondered grief that the things that I grieve the hardest and the longest for are not people who have died. I grieve people that I have lost who are with us still. Isn't that a strange discovery?
ReplyDeleteI guess my biggest grief would be the loss of my grandson. I never got to hold him. I never got to see him. He was gone in less than a day. I grieve him to this very day in a quiet little place in my heart where all my wishes that never came true go to rest. Even then though, a big part of my grief was focused on my son and daughter in law who were devastated, but they have fought their way back from that horrible day, and they are still together and still close, and now there is Ruby and Iris.
Like others have mentioned, my grief in losing my mom was tempered with the knowledge that she had cancer that had eaten away at her for so long that it was more a relief. My Dad died several years later at the age of 98, and we had time to spend with him to say our goodbyes before he quietly left this world. I didn't have time to truly grieve either of them, as there were funerals to arrange and the estate paperwork to deal with. But I recall dropping to my knees at the cemetery when we buried Dad, because there was a sudden realization that my life had changed. No longer would I be driving four hours each way, every 6-8 weeks to visit and handle other issues for him. I do often miss them still and tend to talk to them as if they are with me, especially in the car.
ReplyDeleteBut the death that has hit me hardest just happened in July. A dear friend, Christine passed away suddenly at the age of 50. It was sudden and unexpected; we had plans to meet for coffee on Saturday and she passed away on Wednesday. I did attend the funeral but it was made clear that the remaining family will not have any more contact with me. I miss her so much, we enjoyed going to garage sales and thrift stores together, and there was always so much laughter. She had been part of my life for nearly 30 years and it hurts that I didn't have a chance to say goodbye and tell her again, how much she meant to me.
oh, Maebeme, my heart breaks for you.....truly.
DeleteSusan M
Death can indeed be a relief. As my own mother used to say- "Dying isn't the worst thing." She was right. But oh, when the person is younger and it's unexpected and you are close to them, it can be the hardest thing of all for you. I am so sorry you lost your friend. I know you must still be in deep grief for her. I am sorry the family is shutting you off. I guess they have their reasons, probably related to their own grief- I have no idea, but it's still so very hard for you.
DeleteThank you for this.
Grieving is missing. I have lost many friedns ... but what hurts most are the one that grow into not-friends and keep on living. The what-if's are overwhelming at times.
ReplyDeleteOn a whole other note. Ginger does not like dirct sunlight and needs a big, shallow pot as the roots spread out from the centre. If they do not freeze, or dry out, you can pick the outer roots for the rest of your days from one root.
Grieving is missing. And yes, I have had that experience where I was as close to someone as two humans could be and then, somehow with time and changes, we drifted apart. It's so weird. It's so hard. But sometimes it is so necessary.
DeleteWell, that ginger is not going to get a lot of sun in this yard! And it will grow here in the ground I think. Many other types of gingers do.
Ugh. I am having the very worst time commenting. The interesting discovery that I made while considering your question is that my biggest griefs are about losses that do not involve deaths. I grieve for those who are lost to me but not gone from this world.
ReplyDeleteI understand that, Debby. I think that can be the hardest of all.
DeleteThis was what I wanted to say! gooc to know I'm not alone.
Deletegrief from the death of a person? sometimes I think there's something wrong with me. I don't think I've ever experienced real grief from the loss of someone. not like what I read about how other people react. when my mom called me at 2 AM to tell my me dad had died (massive stroke) my reaction was I hung up, told Marc my dad just died and we drove to Galveston right then to be with my mother being the only kid that lived in Texas at the time. later I cried a couple of times for short periods but no wrenching grief. when my mother died I cried one time for a few minutes not because she was gone but because now I would never get the mother I had always wanted and needed. I didn't have close relationships with either of them while they lived and I don't miss either of them and feel no sadness that they are gone. I've lost grandmothers and aunts and uncles and same same. when Marc's dad died all I felt was relief. I've stopped going to funerals because they aren't cathartic for me and I just want them to be over. Probably the closest thing I have come to real grief was at the end of my river guide days when the group of us that always crewed together, who we swore were all besties and our own little family, who all had their own faults and poor behavior that I thought we all overlooked because we knew none of us is perfect who turned on me as a group and basically frogmarched me to the door telling me not to come back. it was crushing because this was the first time in my life that I had a group of friends, a posse. none of them would talk to me. when I finally got one guy on the phone 'you're not being shunned' he told me but that was exactly what they were doing. one of the women sent me a letter listing all her complaints against me. I was flabbergasted, it was all so petty and she was no angel. when I finally figured out what and why, then I was pissed off. what a bunch of liars and hypocrites. but that was a long time in coming. as soon as I realized this was not going to blow over I purged myself and my house of everything that any of them had given me, packed up a box of stuff and sent it back to the woman I had thought of as my best friend (the one who sent me the divorce letter). I was devastated for nearly two years, grieved, because I just did not understand or know why. it was the support I got from my other friends in the guide staff (not part of the 'group') that stood by me that helped me through it. I could go into all the things I finally came to understand about why they did what they did but the reasons aren't really important. there were lies being told and misunderstandings that festered. one of the biggest shocks was finally understanding that one of the guys had never liked me. and you know, I had had plenty of intuition about that but I ignored it because I listened to his words. so I guess that's really the closest I've come to grief.
ReplyDeleteWell, first off, you know how I felt when my mother died. Quite a bit of relief, to be honest. I felt some of that same thing you did- that now there was no possibility whatsoever of having the mother I'd always wanted and needed but I had mostly come to the very real truth of that before her death. I think I did it more when my father died because he just was not there at all from the time I was five and I always wanted a daddy so bad. "The father that she never had." This thought still causes grief in me.
DeleteNow- as to your tale of the people who were very much like family to you, your posse- my GOD! That must have been horrible and of course you grieved then. I am sure that anger was part of it. It certainly would have been for me. I am so sorry that you went through this, Ellen. It sounds more like the actions of a third-grade clique than of adults. So very cruel.
I must say this question kind of puts me on the spot. I've lost both my parents in recent years, but I did not grieve in any outward way for a variety of reasons. In both cases I believe it was their time, and in fact, given the chance to choose to live on or die, I think both of them would have chosen death given their illnesses. I felt very practical about it all. Which of course doesn't mean I don't miss them, but I miss them in their prime.
ReplyDeleteI dread Olga dying. I think that will be hard for me.
Well, you know how I reacted when my mother died. I mean- it was heavy there for a few days but not in a truly grieving sad sort of way. More of a well, my world has just changed sort of way. Practical, yes. I totally understand that reaction. And I totally understand you dreading Olga's death. She has given you nothing but pure love from the moment you got her.
DeleteAt my age, there’s been so much loss. My dad died after a long illness when I was 21, but I didn’t have time to grieve. There was my mother and young brother to take care of, I had promised Dad to look after them. I’ve lost two best friends, one to alcohol, the other to early onset dementia. For my alcoholic friend, my grief took on anger. How could he do this to himself and leave his little girl behind? For my darling Suzy, the dementia stole her away one excruciating piece at a time. Her dementia went on for six or seven years, and even though I knew in my heart she never wanted to live that way, I was still crushed when her body gave up. It’s been three years but I’m crying as I write this. It’s the worst way to loose someone.
ReplyDeleteXoxo
Barbara
I feel certain that your anger towards your alcoholic friend was completely normal. Absolutely.
DeleteMy friend Lynn died of a terrible neurological disease which was not dementia but it took almost everything from her, including speech and ability to do anything physical at all. She could not walk or open a door or turn on her CD player. Her speech became garble. But I do think she knew who we all were. It was a relief when she died because she NEVER would have wanted to live like that. So yes, I understand how you felt about your Suzy.
I'm not a crier. I may feel sad and feel as if there are tears behind my eyes but I only rarely weep. I miss my parents but they had long illnesses before they died so it was a relief that they were no longer suffering.
ReplyDeleteSome of us are criers and some of us are not. I do enough crying for you and me both, Ellen! And probably for about five other people. We are all so different.
DeleteI grieved for years over having a mother who did not mother me; it was all about her. She will be 100 next month and I await her passing with anticipation but try to live my life fully anyway. Thankfully she is in another state and I don't see her. As I interact with my adult children and grandchildren I continue to discover and thus grieve what I did not have, but my grandchildren give me a lot of love! I also grieved a father who, when he died, I had nothing to miss. There are many reasons to grieve. Becky
ReplyDeleteI did not realize how angry at my mother I was about how she mothered me until I had children of my own. And I was gobsmacked at how removed she had been from the feelings that I had for my own children. When we parent our children, we have the opportunity to parent ourselves, I think, and then come the grandchildren and we can just offer pure love. Thank you, Becky.
DeleteI thought I understood grief. My mother died from cancer in 1973 aged 48 - I was 8. My father went missing when I was 18 and had just left for University- his body was found 18 months later - a dreadful start in life , but nothing has prepared me for the death of my husband in March, aged 63. His Doctor told him his cancer could not be cured , but if he was unlucky he would have 3 years, but more likely he would have 5+. He died 15 months later . My life ended when he took his last breath . I wish it had been me . Nothing makes sense or matters anymore . Nothing will again
ReplyDeleteS
I have no words to offer. I just wish I could hug you so tightly. I absolutely respect your feelings. I wish there was something I could say that would ease your pain a tiny bit but I know that's not possible. I will be thinking of you with love.
DeleteMy husband also died this year, he was 57, I’m 48. I don’t think I have got to grief yet, it seems so impossible he could be dead. I feel like a shell walking around doing things but a void inside, waiting for him to return.
DeleteAnonymous- I can't even imagine that sort of grief. As with S above, I just wish I could hold you. Both of you are too fresh in your grief for words to matter much, I would think. Bless you. I am so sorry.
DeleteWhen I was a sophomore in college, my boyfriend died by suicide. I was so shattered, so broken down to my core, that I almost couldn't control my grief. I cried at his gravesite, I cried in my bed, I cried in the grocery store, unable to comprehend that people were just buying milk like it was a regular day. I stayed up at night, rocking in my bed, arms wrapped around my chest to stop the physical pain. After a few months, I dragged myself up and out - returned to school, got a job. During that terrible time, a friend who lived on the west coast would call me a few times a week - always late at night, and I was always up - and he'd say "why aren't you sleeping?" and then talk to me for an hour. It was such solace, his awkward way of showing me love and care. 4 months later he died in a rafting accident, and I just went numb. I don't think I properly grieved either of them until I went to therapy decades later and she made me reopen the wound.
ReplyDeleteThe things that people can survive. I just...bless you. That was a horrifying chain of events for you. I am so sorry. Do you think the therapy helped? I know it must have been so hard to go through that reopening. I hope it helped.
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteI lost my partner (Jim) of 20 years and my Dad three days apart in December 2021. My dad was in hospic care and really had a big turn in his health just a week prior. My dad was 86 and had lived with cancer for several years. He had back surgery at age 84 that caused him more pain than the cancer ever did. I felt for a long time that I was lucky to have my dad for as long as I did as all of my close friends had already lost one or both of their parents while I still had both of mine.
ReplyDeleteJim's death was a shock as he died of a heart attack. We had found out he had heart problems almost a year prior and after many tests he was waiting to get scheduled for heart surgery for blockages. I had spent the night at my folks house the night before he died. I talked to him on the phone about 20 minutes before and told him I was heading to the house after running by my brother's to pick up a package off his porch since he was at our folks house. Jim told me the was not feeling well and thought he was getting a cold. When I got to the house he was lying on the kitchen floor. I was asked later how to you even handle this? I said you just push everything down and deal with what has to be done at the time. Because of this I think it took me a long time to really let myself grieve. I feel like my friends sometimes don't really understand because of this. My dad I feel he had a long and full life and he went when it was his time. With Jim I feel he got cheated out of the rest of his life and it hurts me.