he must be here somewhere

today, i had a moment in which i lost all my doubts.

i had gone to the pool with J's mother, his nephew, and my kids. on the way home, she decided she wanted to stop at the spanish place to get chicken, rice, and beans to feed the children. because traffic on broadway was insane, i double-parked the car on a side street and she hopped out to walk the block to the restaurant.
suddenly, it occurred to me that the place she was going to sold the best tres-leche cake in town. in fact, i don't usually like tres-leche cake but this one is to die for. it is one of my current addictions.

i frantically turned into all directions breaking my head over how to communicate to her my urgent craving. she had left her phone and i couldn't leave the car double-parked with 3 kids in it. people were already honking at me to move it back and forth so they could pass. and so - i did the only thing i could come up with: i closed my eyes, circulated my hands around my temples, and tried to will her into bringing me this cake:
"tres-leche, tres-leche, Thea, tres-leche, think about the tres-leche! i've told you about it so many times. remember? come-on! tres-leche, tres-leche. your son's favorite cake! how about some dessert?"

... i must have looked like a crazy person to any passers-by but i couldn't see, for my eyes were squeezed shut. then, i decided that my non-existent telepathic skills may not be enough and so i added:" J! tell your mom to bring me tres-leche cake! come-on! work your magic! i _know_ you can reach her. i want tres-leche, tres-leche! pleeeeeze. can you make that happen?"

and - lo and behold - his mom arrives, food in one bag, tres-leche cake in the other.
(i kid you not!) -> "this is from J," she said jokingly - of course, completely unaware of the significance of her words at that moment.
i was speechless.
i couldn't believe that actually worked.
"what made you bring this cake?" i asked carefully.
"i don't know. i was just waiting for the food. looking around. checking out the menu in detail, when suddenly there was something like a breeze on my face and i turned and saw the cakes at the other end of the bar. and then i thought, J would have really loved a tres leche cake." and so I bought one.

this event made me smile for the rest of the day.
most of these types of experiences fill me with as much doubt as conviction ...but today, i felt absolutely certain that J was with us.... it's either that or i can control people's minds ... and ... hmm...i guess, that would be almost as awesome as knowing that my sweet love is at my side.

and this is what she said...

every day, reality sinks in with a bit more gravity. he isn't coming back.
every day, i cry. every m-f-in' day.
i don't want to cry anymore. what's the f-in point?!??! ...there is no freaggin' point. it won't change anything. it won't help. it won't make me feel better. in fact, it makes me feel worse.

but, i can't control it.
i hardly ever cried before J passed. i stopped crying when i was around 11 years old. when my mother left us. i didn't see the point in it and it made me angry to cry. i felt weak. so, i stopped. for the most part, anyway.
now, i feel as if i am making up for all that lack of crying of the past 25 years... :/

as i am typing this, i am hearing noises in the living room. it is past midnight... and it just occurred to me that regardless of how much i miss him, there is no way i could handle seeing him in any type of after-life form. the adrenaline rush i just got is truly unpleasant. i think, i would have a heart attack if i were to suddenly become one of these people who see stuff ... or dead people! aaaahhhhhh ...

speaking of which, ... this evening my friend asked me if I could drive her mother home. Her mom had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's and has been spending much more time at her daughter's (my friend's) place. It's amazing and scary to watch someone's memory fade. Not only do I see it myself - when I observe how she forgets how to count to five, or the name of a vegetable, or how to open a door.... but I also hear lots of stories from my girlfriend about the loss of this once so sharp woman's memory.

needless to say, i was completely taken aback when this little old lady sat in the car with me tonight and spoke to me with such clarity that i felt as if it wasn't just her talking. she began straight out of nowhere. she said (and i'm paraphrasing as best as i can ... and mind you... she speaks mostly Spanish...but this was all coming in English):

you have to be strong. focus on your girls. you have to be strong for them. and for yourself. you will find richness in life again. the pain will fade one day and you will be happy again. you will.
you have to stop crying. 
stop crying every day!
you can cry once a week, ok? maybe when you go to the church.
you have to stop remembering so much. stop thinking about him so much. stay busy.

he is with jesus now. he is better. you have to believe that. he is better now.
just pray  ... and it will get better.

for the most part i kinda glanced over at her in disbelief. she was looking at me so intently.
i barely ever speak to this woman. i don't think J has even ever met her.
and, how on earth does she remember that A) i had a relationship with someone and B) that he died?

when i later told my girlfriend about her mother's strangely mystical speech, she told me that the only thing her mother knew was that J passed... but that she remembered it seemed strange.

also, ... how did she know i cry every day? how did she assume that he was better now? that would mean she knew how much he struggled and how would she know that? and she knows i'm not christian (if she remembers that) ...how does she know i go into churches to pray?

my friend told me that her mother was known as a pretty powerful 'santeria' in her days. she always knew things before they were happening...always saw things others didn't. "she sees dead people, you know", my friend said, "but she usually doesn't like talking about it."

well, she didn't have to tell me any of these things. the fact that a woman with advanced dementia (who primarily speaks spanish) talked to me the way that she did, just made me shut up and listen.

on the way back, i cried anyway. :/ ...
but - this time i managed to stop myself before it turned into uncontrollable sobbing.

i always thought, repression is a powerful tool.
i think, i'm going to return to it.
think less about this unimaginable (but so terribly real) loss.

just don't think about it.

maybe i need to move.

signs?

I have made several entries about the signs I've seen after J died. I don't document them all, although, I probably should so I can refer to them in dark, hopeless moments.

Yesterday I had had a pretty good day; and with good, I mean, even... acceptable...no crying or overwhelming sadness. Then came the night. The kids had gone to bed, I had turned off all screens to calm my mind in order to prepare for bed time. I didn't want to have another late night. I thought, maybe if I read, I'll get tired. It was already past midnight. When I went into the kitchen for some water, it suddenly hit me again. I was drowning in his absence and I didn't know how to stop it. Before I knew it I was sobbing so hard I had to bend over on the kitchen counter to get a grip. As I lifted my head to take a breath, elbows on the counter, hands on my wet cheeks, I found myself looking straight at a piece of art-work my 11-year-old had made for her 9-year-old sister. It was a name plaque made of clay, carrying my younger kid's initials. It had been in the kitchen for at least a month or two. I have to move it every day to get to my coffee can. And, every day, I'm annoyed that it's still sitting in the kitchen when it should be in the children's room.
But what I saw in this moment took my breath away, made me smile, and chuckle through my tears. It was a detail I hadn't noticed in all this time. On the top of the plaque, barely noticeable, my daughter had carved "I Love U" but because I saw these words for the first time in this very overwhelmingly sad moment, I took it as a message from J.

The name plaque as I saw it every day for the past couple of months.

What I saw the moment I looked up from the tears in my palms.

The signs suggesting his presence are always subtle and sometimes very vague but so in tune with the way I feel at that moment, that it's hard to ignore them or dismiss them as something I'm making up in my head. When the sign is tiny, it's maybe a bottle popping [totally on cue], a door slamming shut because of a sudden draft, or a cold breeze embracing me. I don't know where the "signs" are coming from but they just don't feel like coincidence. It happens too often. Funnily enough, when J's mom tells me of her experiences like these (similarly subtle stuff such as lights flickering, his favorite shirt falling out of the closet and to her feet, or a dream) I always have the urge to rationalize it away and tell her she is reading too much into it. It never seems believable when it happens to someone else. This is probably why spirituality is such a personal thing. It has to be, for no one can truly feel what you feel. A spiritual experience is highly subjective, and, while completely fulfilling for the individual, hard to relate to by others.

Sometimes the signs are unmistakable. Like the message on the plaque, or the window shade shooting up at 3 o'clock in the morning as I am waking up out of deep sleep.
Or, for example, last week, as I was returning home from my very first grief support meeting, I suddenly noticed that the guy sitting across from me was wearing a wooden rosary - as J used to wear it. In fact, just earlier in the day, I had looked at picture of him with the rosary around his neck and I specifically paused at the memory on how he would wear it under his shirt sometimes.
When I lowered my gaze (to not totally make the guy uncomfortable with my dreamy stare at his chest), I noticed that the man standing right next to me was wearing two pairs of sock. It was so subtle that I would have never detected it, had he not been so close. According to the autopsy report I had just read a few days ago, J was wearing two pairs of socks the night he died. I remember thinking how peculiar that was and to now see this on another person got me convinced that J was sending me signs to show me that he was with me.

A few days before this, I could have sworn, I had a full conversation with him.

I was so sad...sitting in a cafe surrounded by friends and tons of people listening to a band playing. I was staring at the ground, fighting back the tears. I missed him soo much. And then this conversation began in my head:

- Stop crying. I'm right here.

- .... You are here?

- Yes.

- [very sceptically]... Really?

- Yes.

- So.. I can ask you anything.

- Yes.

- ......... Why did you die?

- ... I don't know.

-.... [I couldn't think of anything to ask so i just said,] I love you soo much.

- I love you too, Dear.  [Dear!? ... I totally forgot that J used to call me Dear.]

- I miss you.

- I'm right here.

- Easy for you to say. ...... How am I ever gonna be able to live without you?

- You're going to be fine.   .... ...  
                                             [now]  .... clap.

I dutifully began applauding. The song had ended and everyone around me was clapping while I had still been staring at the ground engrossed by my strange out-of-this-world conversation.

Last night, a friend of mine sent me a video of birds flying and it made me think about how much I loved the sound of birds...and - oh, how I wished, I could sit somewhere now to listen to them sing. And, a few minutes later, at almost one o'clock in the morning, I hear birds in the tree by my window. I can't describe the gratitude I felt for this gift, as I saw it. I listened to the birds sing for almost an hour and when they stopped I went to bed and slept better than in a long time. Here one of the recordings I made in pure disbelief. The quality isn't that great, I used my cellphone and you can hear cars but you get a little sense of the atmosphere. I have occasionally heard birds at night but usually it's a nightingale..if it's late at night. Birds like these, I usually don't hear until the wee hours of the morning.



One would think that all this metaphysical stuff should be bringing me comfort and, it does. But, it isn't enough. It isn't good enough! And there is nothing I can do.
I can't see him, I can't touch him, I can't plan the rest of my life with him.

The question is, would I have been able to do the latter with him had he not died? Was he ever going to recover from his addiction? I know, he wanted to beat this battle but could it have been that he may have spent his life on the street, like my older brother, who never recovered? Would it have hurt more to have seen him succumb completely to alcoholism and sink so low that he would be living out of a shopping cart, sleeping on a park bench? ... I am clinging on to the image that he would have made it and that it is this which I (and his family) have lost. But, maybe he wouldn't have made it and God relieved him of his misery. He was relapsing regularly and I remember fighting with him about this until the end.

But, ..... of course ... nothing matters.
I lost my soul-mate, my love, my everything ... and no hypothetical analysis of potential outcomes of his life will change that.

A friend, who lost her boyfriend to suicide 10 years ago, reminded me how lucky I am to have my kids in this time of grief. And I know I am. I feel blessed and eternally grateful for these two wonderful girls I've been given. Sometimes I look at them and I actually feel the love tingling under my skin.
Most of the time, they drive me crazy, of course. They are moody, stubborn, opinionated tweens who don't listen half the time but they are healthy, affectionate, and lovely children and I never forget to thank God for that.

is everything more or less predictable?

The psychology of man is an interesting thing. I find it unsettling that there is a formula I can refer to in order to predict how I will FEEL if xy and z happens to me. I don't usually think about how predictable humans are but lately I've been in awe about the accuracy of the automated daily grief support email I have subscribed to. It's just a snippet of advice on what one may be going through at this moment, combined with an insightful quote.

I find these daily affirmations very helpful but I can't stand the fact that I am essentially like a robot ... a machine that is running a certain software and is now compromised by a well-known bug, which we have developed a patch for.

Apparently, I am now in the grieving stage they call anger, although, I have learned that the emotions of all the stages come mixed up and unexpectedly. I never quite understood, why there is an angry stage in the grief process. What would one be angry at? I can understand that maybe some people would be angry at God or the person who died or, naturally, anybody possibly responsible for the loved one's death but other than that, I didn't get it.

Now - I can tell you - the anger can come without reason. I'm just angry, period. Sometimes I can walk outside the door and hate everybody. Everybody. This is a surprising and new feeling for me. I have always been the opposite of that. I tend to see the positive in people and I usually enjoy going out into the world.

Usually I punch a pillow when the anger comes. Unfortunately, I was in my car when I was overwhelmed with the need to get the anger out somehow. And so I punched my car door. Although, the injuries were only small abrasions of the skin, they hurt like hell and didn't heal for weeks. They kept tearing open again every time I brushed against something. I won't do that again, I guess. Although, that was the second time I did it....Let's hope I remember the pain this time.

***
And so -- here is what I got yesterday (in my daily affirmation email) - just when I had had a moment of self-reflection, earlier in the day, about how I needed to stop being so angry:

Loss often makes people bitter, and angry. Is that how you want to be? I don’t think so.
Rather than hanging on to bitterness, resentment or anger - let go, and find a healthier place to live the remainder of your days.

It's like an angel whispering in my ear to confirm what I have already told myself.

the thing about angels

I think I made an entry earlier, talking about how much I loved Lorna Byrne's book "Message of Hope from the Angels". I talked about how reluctant I was to read it and how incredibly helpful it turned out to be. So, I had gone out (to amazon) to buy her earlier books and now I'm back to being totally skeptical about her stories. ... It's not that I completely resist the idea of guardian angels or angels in general....they are, after all, an accepted part of all major world religions....and if I believe in God, I suppose, it would be weird if I don't believe in angels ...which honestly, I didn't... except maybe our guardian angels and the arch angels...as they are so prominent in the stories throughout religions such as Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.

But - let's forget about whether I truly believe or not...it's more about how it all works that I wonder about. Lorna Byrne's stories seem fantastical but when she lost me is when she talked about meeting God in his heavenly library as a child. Now, I could make this more digestible if I told myself that God (who cannot be ascribed any human attributes, in my opinion) just created an illusion for Lorna in order to be more accessible. Just as she is an incredibly accessible messenger for the masses, if she really were to be a messenger. Her language is very simple and she seems incredibly wholesome.

But, there I find the next problem. She only seems to see good. All she talks about are good (safe) people and everything works out for them as they touch base with her later in life. I want to know about the rest of the world. What about all the awful places, broken marriages, troubled people that don't miraculously change over a short period of time but maybe incrementally over many many years. Or, perhaps, we just all need to listen to the guidance of our guardian angels and we would be in a better place.

A few weeks ago, I was heading to the movies in the city. It was the afternoon and I parked my car 40 blocks away from the cinema, assuming there won't be any spots in that area of Manhattan at that time.
I was on one of my kids' push scooter, shooting down 2nd Avenue, when I passed a church. I checked my watch and it was too late to stop to have a brief moment of prayer and meditation. I'll go after the movies, I told myself.

On the way back up, I had totally forgotten about my plan, when I was cut off by a cab making a left turn on a red light, forcing me to stop in the middle of the cross walk. But it didn't just move past me, it literally just came to a halt in front of me. As I was  thinking how strangely this driver maneuvered his car, I looked up and noticed, on the corner across the street, the church I had planned to stop at. I took it as a sign and thanked whoever was responsible for reminding me. I went in to the empty church and had my quiet moment of prayer, gratitude, and desperation.

When I came out, I gave a homeless woman some money she didn't seem to care for and hopped back onto my scooter to continue my ride up. And, just as I was wondering if it really had been my guardian angel who sent the cab running the red light to remind me to pray, I suddenly noticed the words to the song that was playing on my i-pod:

An angel bending down
To whisper in your ear
You turn around but we're
Invisible


Song: Steve Earle - Invisible