Something Better

My my , Ferron



I don't think about distant places
When I've got my own mind
But it leaves me when I least expect it
Then I'm looking for a short line for home
I'm praying to a sunset mountain
Well aware the softest light's behind me I
 stare at the pink cloud water fountains
And wonder now who is ever gonna find me?
..........
My my...my, my
My my...my, my
..........

Help me remember those times
Every once in a while
When I'm a quick flashing light
When I'm aglow in a midnight smile
Or deep in a wide, wide night
That I'm glad we're more than bodies
And that we're ever souls in journey
I am thrilled this earth is beauty
And there's no past tense for 'easy'

My my... my, my
My my... my, my

I have been enjoying some revitalizing energy with Gromit and Chewie this fall.  It is true that they love cold weather.  However, they have been springy happy and boisterous in their greetings.  They delight in almost everything new or any to be investigated sound and greet me every morning,  with barking howls and arcing bodies, tasting and breathing in the air at the top of the stairs, swishing tails thudding against the walls.  Tails long enough to be reaching both sides of the stairs as they head down for breakfast stopping each time I stop - turning and smiling.  Happy to be awake, happy to be awake with me.  And when they wait impatiently for me to finish making their breakfast they act like I am the best chef ever.  Their breakfast is a delicacy to them but they are so hungry they wolf it down and always want more. 

With Gromit turning 11 and Chewie solidly through the middle of his 10th year, I think this young dog behavior is just a joy. 

This year, I was able to shop for the holidays.  I just got kind of kick out of it this year.  I had a moment of remembering my doodles - what should I get them?  I actually picked a couple of new simple squeaky toys.  Very simple but they loved them and played with them for about an hour as though I had brought home the winning lottery ticket.   Gromit barked and then laid down and just kept squeaking his.  Chewie kept tossing his at me.  Then I hid them and they raced about looking for them, each running back with a toy and squeaking it incessantly.  Their joy made me feel not worthy because I was so happy watching them.  Who were those squeaky toys really for  - them or me?  I love the energy and excitement and enthusiasm from these guys right now. 

In my solitary life I am checking off the list of firsts - first birthday, first Thanksgiving, first Christmas, first family loss.  I am tired of grief.  I am not saying I am done with it - but it is a wearing process.  And right now as I watch some of my relatives lives change because of their health I am aware just how fleeting life is, what a gift it is and to have to be in the midst of this relationship grief is just annoying.  

I am tired of feeling the loss of my marriage right now.   Mostly I feel totally cheated when at the end I was not involved or a part of the decision to end 'us' as though I never had a voice at all.    I remember a barbecue when a young friend trying to survive breast cancer, asked a group of us how we kept our relationships going and Kristin responded - “benign manipulation” and laughed.  I felt awful inside.  It is really hard to think of that as a joke now. 

I want to roar and spring my claws open and swipe everything in my path out of my sight - nothing, there is nothing, there was nothing - in some weird way it is like all the roar and swiping is energy that fights the air - fights nothing.  And it doesn’t help - there is nothing pushing back because she is gone and she expressed righteousness and entitlement in the quickness of her departure.  It was like a relief to her - and that feels the cruelest thing of all to me - as though she was getting away from me, escaping me - the shame surrounding me to think someone escaped having to be around me is kind of awful.  I don’t wish her any happiness  or peace right now.  I don’t like carrying this around inside me.  That is not who I want to be.  I keep saying this won’t impact my faith in humanity but it is a struggle right now.  I know time will help me move through this place.  And I will find a way to have the integrity of compassion.  I am just not seeing the way right now.  And so the journey continues.  I stay close to the people who value that compassion in me and keep talking and leaning into it. 

I would prefer to spend my grief on people that are more affirming right now.  Amazing people like the family bridge maven - Gladys.  As I started to write this, she was transitioning out of this life.  She was in her late 90’s.  She was my great aunt on my mother’s mother’s side - my grandmother’s sister.  Shy of a century of living, she lay quietly in a hospice bed.  Her body so small.   Her impressive natural wavy short red hair, never colored, naturally red hair.  Hardly a gray hair on her head.   She had bright blue sparkly eyes to go with that red hair.  She died this morning.

She grew up in the Powderhorn neighborhood in Mpls and talked of watching Fireworks on the Fourth of July around the small lake in the middle of the Powderhorn Park.  Talking with her reminded me of my family roots in this town.  She told old family stories like her brother falling off the rug porch at their house and breaking his arm.  She attended Central High School in Mpls.   She was class valedictorian.  In those days girls wanting to work didn’t go to college though, she went to learn how to work on fancy new machines for offices.  

She never married and always worked.  She learned how to be an office assistant.  She wore dresses and skirts, panty hose, smart shoes every day for work as long as I can remember.    For many years she worked downtown and shopped downtown.  She argued with the men about politics at family gatherings.   She was competitive and may have had some pride.  She drank as she wanted.  She made her own decisions about her life.  She had time for us kids, was often late to events and her arrival was always highly anticipated.   She was well read.  And she traveled.  She was a member of the Sons of Norway.  And traveled to Norway.  When China opened its doors to travel she went with one of the first groups to travel there.  She went to Israel and other places.  Her magazine basket always had a copy or two of current National Geographic magazines.   To a child it seemed she could talk about anything and was interested in anything.  There was always somethings to look at in her house. 

Church was important to her.  She was confirmed in the church she attended through the later years.  I remember celebrating my Grandparents 60th Wedding Anniversary at this church.  My Grandmother and my Grandfather’s funerals were at the church.  I had been to Easter services and Christmas services there.  I would wander the narthex and see confirmation pictures of the classes that she, my grandmother, and their siblings were each in.   I wondered what it was like to be in those confirmation classes. 

Later in life she dated a man of similar age for a number of years.  She saved her Saturday evenings for him and would never plan to do anything for a Saturday in case he might call with a plan.  It was a reminder to me about days gone by and how men and women of another generation worked things out. 

She played Bridge with me when I was learning how to play.  I would sometimes pick her up from her house and we would go together downtown to a coffee shop called Espresso Royale and meet Paul and some friends to play Bridge.  I would get a call from her to ask what she could wear to the coffee shop - “could I get away with a denim skirt?” is how she would put it when she asked.  I loved that about her.  She would ask what I was going to wear and I would reassure her that a denim skirt would be just fine.  She was never impatient as we learned the game but we were the great niece and nephew, I am not sure that is how it went with all her bridge partners.  She had an unusual confidence for a woman of her age.  She would correct bad plays and help us with bidding.  She also had a laugh that was contagious.   When one of my friends was in film school, Gladys played the Bridge Maven for one of the student films.  She was such a sport about it.  In the film she her part was like a Bridge Superhero.  She wore white gloves and would appear suddenly when there was a problem and give instructions to a group at a table.  Then she would clap her gloved hands and be gone. 

We filmed at her house - a house that she had lived in with her parents and was in the family a very long time.  It atop a hill from Minnehaha Creek and was a traditional stucco Tudor Bungalow.  It had gorgeous red floor rugs covering the wood floors and sweet little wooden cubbies and custom cupboards like so many of the old bungalows.   The kitchen had a tiny eating cove and the stove was six burner gas with two ovens.  It was huge.  The living room had a fire place in the center of the front wall of the house.  There were little gnomes and trolls around the house.  It was filled with memorabilia from her travels and Norwegian artifacts.  An organ sat in a corner of the living room.  She would have my Mom play when it was a holiday and then tell my Mom that she could have the organ when she was gone.  She had slides and pictures from the old days.  When you went to Glady’s house she always had a meal.  Always, some type of lite meal.  And she had a drink before the meal for you, a glass of wine and then a liqueur for after the meal.   And she could entertain and chat well into the early hours of the morning. 

My favorite story about Gladys is how she handled a group of firefighters who basically rescued her.  At the time of the house fire she right at or near 90 years old.  She had a fire started by a dehumidifier that was for all practical purposes new.  And when the firemen got to her house they tripped over her getting into the house.  When they wanted to take her to the hospital she politely refused because she had to get her hair done and also had bowling league later that day.  That is a woman who loves life and had a plan for her day.  She had social engagements - the hospital?pshaw. 

She did have to go to the hospital and never was able to move back into that house.  When I visited her in the hospital she kept talking about how bad her fingernails looked.  The next time I visited I took a bowl and nail polish remover and nail polish.  We trimmed and filed and did her nails.  It was one of those things that makes me sound like a good niece but truly it was a bit selfish.   I got to finally make her feel special.  It is so hard to do that with someone like Gladys.   

I think of how fleeting life is - Gladys though, had a full life.  There are others who were not able to enjoy the same longevity.  Through a good 90 years of it she had her wits and physical abilities.  That clever brain that could push an argument and did not fear having a differing opinion.  Plus, I want to still be bowling at 90.  I want to be able to lift a 16 lb. bowling ball and throw it down the alley like Gladys.  And she could laugh and her eyes would laugh with her.  She kept reading and learning.  How else do you do these things if you start thinking you might not be able to do them?    She just kept doing them.  Dementia finally took hold the last couple of years.  In the end, the dementia got in the way of letting her brain run her body.  And she stopped eating and taking in water. 

I know that for large dogs Gromit and Chewie are senior - older dogs.  I don’t want to think about it though.  I don’t want them to think about it.  I want them to do what they think they can do.   I want them to chase each other and tussle in the living room.  I want Gromit to run for running’s sake - head in the air, open mouth, tongue dangling and ears swinging back, all feet leaving the ground at once.  I want to know that Gromit is still clever enough to wait me out and that I cannot leave something on the counter cause he will find a way to get it.  I want them to continue to bark their hurry ups to me for breakfast and dinner. 

Our lives together are fleeting as well.  I won’t lose being delighted in their joy because I am grieving something else.  I still see this joy.  That is the type of grief I have from losing Gladys.  My friends Ellen, Naomi, Laura, and Laura Beth, who left much before their time - these friends gave it all they had and while I feel cheated of time I do not feel cheated by them.  I feel always lucky to have known them.  And that is a very different type of grief than the grief of my marriage being over.  This grief for these friends does not diminish my faith in humanity.  It makes me want to be around people that I care about and that care about me.   This grief makes every connection, friendship, family like there is - something bigger, something better. 

And Gromit and Chewie greeting me every day when I wake up or return home from work - barking, prancing and leaning into me.  That is a joy I will not overlook.  It too restores a universal faith in something bigger, something better that I have in me with them than without them.