Archive for November, 2015|Monthly archive page

The Tao of Mourning

Monday, November 30th, 2015

My husband tells me I can be a very foolish gweilo sometimes. Frequently. Almost all of the time, really. I suspect I share a viewpoint with my recently deceased friend, Roger Margason (aka Dorien Grey), that life ought to be one way, though it frequently decides to do as it damn well pleases and without our consent. In this particular case, I assumed any mourning I would be going through for my father would have run its course two weeks after his passing. That was a week ago. And it ain’t gone.
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A Humble Pre-Holiday Request

Monday, November 23rd, 2015

For those of you in the US, this is a HUGE weekend coming up after our Thanksgiving holiday. For those of you not in the US, you’ll probably still get swept up in our post-holiday Black Friday sales because…well, some prices for items can be quite tempting. But, I’d like to throw this out there to all of you about to undertake that most unappreciated form of sport not officially recognized by the worldwide Olympic organization; shopping.
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The Pecking Order

Thursday, November 19th, 2015

I remember being a young kid and thinking “Boy, things are going to be different when I get my own house one day. I’ll be able to do what I want and I won’t have to do what anybody says!” Every child’s dream, isn’t it? And it doesn’t quite work out that way. We seem destined to make mistakes and people who know better stand by and watch. It’s not that they don’t want to help as much as they know we won’t take their advice. Plus, as long as we’re not making earth shattering mistakes, how else are we going to learn? My parents did that with me, their parents with them, and I suspect I would do that with my kid(s) if I had any. The weird thing is I still feel like a kid some of the time.
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Two Things That Strike Me As Humorously Surreal

Monday, November 16th, 2015

The last week has been anything but fun or remotely humorous. I’ve been tired, distant, emotionally unbalanced at times, and desperately searching for the things that used to bring me comfort or make me laugh. Nobody likes a constant downer and, sadly, that just what I’ve been. It did occur to me last night, though, that there were two moments in the past week that did tickle the writer in me. I figure they’re worth sharing with you.
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The Last Two Weeks

Friday, November 13th, 2015

I dropped off the social media radar for a bit the last two weeks, or at least I stopped talking about what was going on. I did that for privacy and for the fact I had no idea what was going to happen. Things were in flux. Yes, Dad passed away, but I haven’t really discussed what went on during the two weeks prior and I’d like to finish that part of his story.
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When All Is Said and Done (1944-2015)

Monday, November 9th, 2015

I had a conversation with my mother on November 4th about Dad, about how his sudden downturn was surprising us both, when she looked at me and said “I’m sorry you have to go through this.” I remember looking at her, slightly dumbfounded, and asking “What else should I be doing?” Dad is my father. I am his son. How could I possibly ignore what’s going on? “It’s hard on you,” she informed me. “And it’s harder on you,” I countered. “He’s my father, but he’s your husband. He’s the one you were supposed to grow old with. He’s the one you planned your future with. It’s worse for you, and don’t think for a second I don’t recognize that.”
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The Three Year Marathon That Wasn’t

Thursday, November 5th, 2015

It was about this time three years ago when my father-in-law really started having issues with his health. It began with surgery on an impacted vertebrae in his back, escalated to a diagnosis of cancer, the search for where the cancer spread from, a tumor at the bottom of his spine that left him in rehab learning how to walk again, radiation, and then his eventual passing four months later. One of the doctors we grew to love and appreciate told us she wanted us to know that she was in it with dad-in-law for the long-term. It was going to be a marathon. “How long?” we asked. Three years. I still don’t know how three years can be considered a marathon, but those were her words. And we’re coming up on the end of those three years. I can’t help but wonder what my husband’s father would have done during this time.
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In Memory of Roger Margason / Dorien Grey

Monday, November 2nd, 2015

We all have our own unique way of grieving and our hopes of how those will grieve for us one day. Roger Margason, or Dorien Grey (his author pseudonym), passed away yesterday after complications during a procedure on Friday that left his life in the balance for two days. This was unexpected. This was tragic. But it happened. Roger was a friend and I’ve done most of my crying prior to writing this because it was his best friend, Gary, who suggested we remember Roger by reading his books and/or telling some funny stories about him. These are my memories.
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