Space

It's puzzling.  We have all, I think been through the range of emotions as our friend Diana passed away from her relentless cancer.   When I got home and logged on I learned that she had passed away yesterday morning.

This is not surprising, since the night before I listened to the long spaces between her labored breaths.  The phrase "labored breaths" has been overused, but it certainly applied.  She was working very hard to live.

Now I'm trying to decide how I feel.  How do we interpret this new world without our old friend there to comment, smirk, prod, support?  I think we must each carry a little more of the weight now that Diana is not shouldering her portion here with us.   There will be a memorial and we'll come together again and celebrate her memory.  Our memories of her will come with us on our journeys.

For my part, I have been struggling with hiding from death for a long time.  I hid from my father's death by being far away.  My Mother's deterioration just added insult.  I avoided the funerals and ceremonies of others who died because I couldn't resolve my grief and anger.  Over time, as Dad died and folks supported me, I came to understand this part of life a little better.  I'm proud to say that I didn't shrink from Diana's death the way I once might have done.  She provided me an opportunity for me to heal my own wounds by being present for her physical ones.  It was easy.  I live here and her life was already a regular part of mine.  Nonetheless, I am forever grateful for my opportunity.

Now the world is strange, new and unfamiliar.  It's rhythm is disturbed for a moment and the Universe takes a deep breath, then exhales.  For a moment all is silent.  Stillness, like a measure and a half pause in a great symphony.

Then a bird chirps on a slender branch.  A child rolls over in a morning bed.  Somewhere someone sips a cup of coffee.  Life continues.

Shucks

Corn. I really enjoyed riding the Sky Rail, or whatever they called the ski-lift looking ride that crosses the Iowa State Fairground. I caught this guy doing what must be done in the space between the food stands. Someone has to shuck, y'know.

Fainting kid. This morning Caitlin got up and did what she's been doing lately on a semi-weekly basis. She fell to the floor, unconscious. This usually happens in the morning. She has had a CT scan, a day with a heart monitor and numerous blood tests. Today the doctor on call suggested that this may be a phenomenon called Syncope. This is reportedly a speeding up of the heart via a disturbance of the electrical signals from the brain regulating the heart beat. Dr. Bertroche (GP on call) is going to consult with a cardiologist and get back to us. Web MD describes this as treatable with beta blockers, and some other drugs I know less about. In the meantime, somebody needs to be with her. She may not drive. And she gets off work today. A dead faint works every time for that.

It is significantly off-putting to hear a large thump in the kitchen and to realize that that thump is your daughter.

In the Victorian era, women fainted all the time and it was considered attractive. This was becauase of those whale bone corsets they used to wear. Caitlin has a very slender waist without a corset, so perhaps she is afflicted with karmic whalebones.

Most wonderful time of the year. . . . School has begun and Robyn and I are beginning to reclaim our home from our kids, it's full time summer tenants. We welcome the rain and the cooler weather. I have heard no complaints of drunken rowdiness from the Assisted Living Joint regarding my mother. Apparently she is being discreet. That's a nice way to say "sneaky." Sometimes I take my martini out into the yard in a plastic glass so it looks like pop. No sense in inviting neighborly comment. Discreet, you know.

Sunflower. The Ag Building at the Fair has great plants and gardens growing around it. This puffy sunflower stands in a row, as is required of sunflowers.

Not that I'm feeling sorry for myself, but our sunflowers grew spectacularly and then fell over. We have them planted in the side garden and the wind comes whistling off the field behind us and shoots between the houses, with, apparently, too much velocity. This seems not to happen at the Fair.

Commenting. It'd be good to know who's visiting this site. Feel free to comment, if only to say hello. What I like about blogging is it gives me a space to think about things differently. Writing was once a primary coping skill for me and in time I let it slide. It's good to take a little time and see what one's thought look like on "paper." Anyway, don't be shy.