I missed writing about yesterday. It was a busy day: I did work on the plumbago, went to school, and saw the chiropractor. Done.
I find I am missing Mike more and more. I don't know how much this is because that's what I'm up to in the grieving process or because no one is living in the house with me — too much alone time. I wasn't wholly isolated; I spoke to my friend Carol from Ohio, Judy and Dorothy made her usual Thursday call. Thank you, Dorothy, for your commitment. I don't have another human being to consider as I move through the house I get along with. It's just me and the furniture, and Elsa, but she's not a human being. Maybe if I had five or six dogs that would equal one human being. Perhaps I'll have to resort to that.
I dropped Elsa off at the Dog Groomer this morning at 7. She had to be there until 2 pm because I had a haircut at 12 and then school.
I worked with three kids yesterday. K's hair looked somewhat more kempt. My mother said you can always tell how people feel by the way their hair looks. Those days you can't do anything with it; something is bothering you that causes it. Looking at K's hair made me want to cry out, "My kingdom for a comb!" Yesterday, her hair looked better.
The other day I worked with her to inform her nonconscious mind that her life wasn't in danger even if she never learned to read; no one would try to kill her because of this lack. Today, I told her how angry I was at my mother when I was a child. I was mad at her all the time. She died at 98. My anger did not affect her; it didn't kill her. I asked her if that made her feel better. She said yes to that. I don't know if her take on her mom is correct or not, but I do know this is one angry little girl. I also know that that anger won't kill her mom.
One of the operators at the hairdresser has been particularly sympathetic to my loss of Mike. I found out today that she lost her husband about ten years ago to pancreatic cancer. She has had two children, one an infant. The woman in her chair announced she had lost her husband to pancreatic cancer two years ago. This last woman was 35 when her husband died. She was left with five kids. Mike died of severe acute pancreatitis. There were only four people in the shop; three of us were widows who had lost their husbands to a pancreatic disorder.
I headed to school. It was 1 pm when I arrived I parked and was about to go sign in when I realized that I wouldn't have enough time to do anything at school and make it to the dog groomer in time to pick up Elsa by 2 pm. I turned around and headed to the groomer and Elsa.
Elsa was sitting in his lap. He said she was needy, so he gave her love. Sounds good to me. When I checked my phone, I saw that the mysterious phone call I had received in the morning was from him, telling me she was ready. I could have picked Elsa up on my way home from Bikram. That sounds much better. I will pick her up early — that way, the poor girl doesn't have to be away from home for so long.
In the evening, I tried to figure out when I would be traveling from Seattle to San Francisco to make my final flight arrangements. I sent the information to Damon.
I spent the evening listening to a tv show while I searched for more books. I already had three boxes filled. Now I have enough for a fourth.
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Musings;
I found a comment in a modern love story in the NY Times that made me stop in my tracks. The article's author said that her parents were incompatible because her father expected happiness, and her mother didn't. That's illuminating. I have always thought happiness was something available to human beings. I don't know where I got this idea from. I don't know if either of my parents held that belief.
Believing it had its pluses and minuses. On the minus side, facing a low reality with high expectations is nerve-wracking. On the other hand, I also believed that I could achieve it if I worked for it. Fortunately for me, the path to that achievement was through personal transformation. Moreover, success had something do with being a loving person- being loved was a nice bonus.
While I never escaped the pall of sadness and disappointment, I do think I achieved a lot of what I set out to do. When my mom was alive, I told her that I thought my two greatest accomplishments were my relationship with her and Mike. Neither was perfect, but both had love in them, and both relationships allowed me to be loving. All told, a pretty good deal.
