Meme and her journey Day 32,412 07/15/2008 05:29 p.m.
One of the things that Meme brought up recently was how she'd "like to go the coast one last time, to smell the salt air and feel the ocean breezes." Excitedly I began making plans to go late in August, after my daughter-in-law's baby shower and just before school starts. I was so happy she wanted to get out of the house. It's been impossible to get her to go out for any other reason than to have her nails done, and even then, the event is precariously successful.
So I looked online, found a couple of hotels that were right on the beach. I figured we'd take the wheelchair just in case she wasn't up to using her walker all the time, and to help her travel the boardwalk a bit. Jeremiah and I and Steven (my 17 yr old son) would go as well (since Steven is the only one who really hasn't gotten away this summer at all).
So I get a good bit of it planned in my head, and plan on talking with Meme about it, but she beats me to it, saying, "I've been thinking about the beach, and I just don't think I can make it. I just don't feel well enough to go, and I get so tired." So I counter with, "Well, you know, I thought about that and planned on taking the wheel chair just in case, so you wouldn't have to feel so tired and you could still enjoy the walks and everything." She says, "No, I just don't think I want to go." So I encourage her to take a couple of days and think about it some more, frankly reminding her that the fresh, sea air and the sound of the ocean and the seafood would all do her some good.
The next day, she tells me again that she just doesn't think she can make it. Not that she doesn't WANT to go, but rather that she would if she could but....And so I frankly (but as gently as I can) tell her that her condition is likely not going to improve anymore, that how she feels today is probably as good as it's going to get, and she should take advantage of whatever energy she has left to enjoy herself, AND that this is likely the last trip to the ocean that she'll take. I hated to be so blunt, but it's the truth, and I hate to see her miss an opportunity to do something that she made a request to do. She still insisted that she just didn't think she could make it.
The day after that, I asked her if she'd reached a final decision since planning is a must this time of year. Rather emphatically (and I suppose it was called for since she had already apprently made her decision and it was me who wasn't really accepting it) she said, "I'm not going and that's final." So, in a last ditch effort to get her to WAKE UP, I say, "So, basically, what you're telling me is that you're out of energy for good, that you're simply going to sit inside these four walls doing nothing until you die. You do realize that's what you're saying, right?" And she replies, "I just know how I feel so weak and tired, and I know I can't make it."
I'm just frustrated. IMHO, it's that very attitude that's caused her to feel weak and tired to begin with, and getting out would help. It would remind her there is a world out there. I would be ok, really, if she'd expressed to me that she wasn't ready to give up, to leave her body. And she has recently said that she'd like to make it to her birthday, to see the birth of her first great-great grandchild, but then she's ready to go. But mostly, her sentiments are that she's not done, and she wants "to see how it all turns out."
I know, I know. She's damn near 89 years old and she's entitled to feel how she feels. But to see her WILLINGLY deteriorate...even though it's her perogative, I think I'm not handling that very well. She rallied herself so well when she left Evergreen to come home, and she's hung on so bravely except for being unwilling to advocate for herself. But she's always been that way, always depended on others to provide for her. And rightly so in some ways. Her life has been so hard. She's had pollio, and rheumatic fever as a teenager that nearly killed her (she wasted away to 88lbs and her fever rose to 107). She's never driven because she lost the sight in one of her eyes when she was dropped on her head as a baby. She's only had 4-5 years of schooling. She was abandoned at 8 years old in a Catholic orphanage during the depression because her father was absent and her mother couldn't feed all of them and family members took the other childen except for her and her sister, Louise. She was forced to go to work at 14. I can't imagine having to make do without the resources that women have today. She has diabetes, and macular degenerative disease that has rendered her legally blind even with the best glasses for a good number of years now. So, I know she is more than entitled to let go of living if she likes. I guess I'm just saying that I don't know if I can do it, watch her give up this way.
But I have to find a way to honor her process, because this is the end of HER life, and it's my job to support her in it. I mean, I know I have to deal with my feelings about it, but I can't let my feelings about it rule.
P.S. She's been living for 32,412 days.
I am currently Thoughtfull
I am listening to Meme shuffle about
Ok, so I have this back pain, and neck pain, and I'm pretty sure it's from gaining weight from being only at home caring for Meme as opposed to being out and about working and walking around. Ugh. I've noticed over the years that there is a weight line, and once crossed, my body protests and protests. I feel SO much better about 25lbs lighter, and even then I still have a lot more weight to lose.
And the kicker is the catch-22 thing - added weight = more tired. More tired = less energy. Less energy = less motivation. Less motivation = less activity. Less activity = more weight. ARGH!!!!!
I think it's time for the lemondade fast. At least.
All I know is I feel physically horrible, even more than usual, and I can't tolerate it one more minute!!!
Which, I guess, = motivation. Hehe.
I am currently: FAT
Listening to: My body scream at me.
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A bunch of things that might not matter after all 07/11/2008 02:56 p.m.
I love a cool breeze across my face.
I love the cricket symphony in the summer.
I love the smell of my bedroom in the early morning
When the incense burns crisp and clean.
I love a good road trip,
And especially staying in a hotel.
The roar of the ocean rushing to shore calms me,
Barefoot in the sand and I’m a happy girl.
All sorts of harmonies are beautiful.
I love that empty feeling in my stomach
When I haven’t eaten for a day.
I want to speak with the dolphins,
Hear the history of the whales first hand.
I love my rosey cheeks, especially in the winter.
Floating in water is the closest I think
I’ll ever come to flying.
I love cotton candy,
Riding the scariest rides and living to tell.
I hear symphonies in my head
That I’m not talented enough to write.
I don’t know how to repair the broken bonds
With my children.
I’m not afraid to die
Sometimes I’m even cowardly/bereft enough
To wish for it.
I wish I had enough money to fix my teeth.
I can’t endure the suffering of other creatures.
I never imagined that rage would be one of my expressions.
I have Flinstone feet.
My baby shoes look like boxes, and these days
You could power a prehistoric vehicle with those puppies!
Sometimes I feel larger than life,
And then I remember that it’s not all about me,
Which helps to shrink me back to normal.
I love eating the very bottom of a Drumstick ice cream cones.
I really like being stoned
But only when all my responsibilities
Have been sufficiently handled.
I love to sing.
I still feel nurtured when I have
My own box of animal crackers.
I like my breasts.
My favorite candy in the whole world
Is See's Dark Bordeaux.
I love being able to give gifts to others,
Especially people I don’t know
And people who don't expect it from me.
I love my flying dreams.
I miss getting backrubs.
I wish I knew how to draw and paint.
I can't wait to find out what happens
After I'm done with this body.
I love the allure of the spirit realm from
A physical point of view.
Having an orgasm is the most decadent joy, ever.
I want my body to be cremated after I leave it.
Making a snow angel is a yearly must.
I’m still baby happy after all these years.
I feel as though I must have failed my mission,
Even though I never did discover what it was.
I believe in God, but lately I can’t seem to find that connection anymore.
I didn’t say any of this to be consoled or encouraged.
I just wanted it said altogether
One time,
In one place.
Not that I have any evidence any of this matters to anyone.
I am currently Passionate
I am listening to all sorts of different harmonies
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Baby I'm A Want You (sung by me) 07/07/2008 06:02 p.m.
I am currently Silly
I am listening to my silly attempt
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The big, black hole. 07/04/2008 12:45 a.m.
Well, after processing the last several days, in light of my failed relationships, and all the years it's taken me to get here, I think that what I've discovered is significant.
It all revolves around the big black hole inside me. We all have one. Dark, and seemingly bottomless, it's usually a deficit of some sort that each of us knows we possess. And, we all have to fall in to reach the center of who we are. My deep, dark, black hole is about feeling unwanted, not feeling worthy enough for anyone to want me.
In my last marriage, John wanted to know what my part was. We were constantly talking about his character defects, his gambling/drinking/anger issues. Those issues were so threatening, that we seemed to forever be focusing on them and not much else. But I KNEW he was right. I knew I had my part in our failure, too. I just couldn't figure it out. Well, I finally have. My part is the big, black, "no one really wants you" hole that lives inside me, that I've spent my whole life expecting someone else to "fill" for me.
Well, Miah doesn't have those issues. But the ones he does have, plus my own, fit right into the deepest part of my own inner dialogue. His inability to make the ultimate commitment; me being convinced that he couldn't possibly be happy with someone my age; the lack of all the little "signs" that I interpret as someone showing they love/want me(i.e., cards, flowers, comments on my poetry, all those token gestures); him being physically attracted to girls that are nothing like me. It's not his fault. It's no one's "job" to make me feel wanted. But I've spent the last year and a half subconciously gathering the "evidence" that feeds my black hole, the one that says, "See? No one wants you." I've also spent the entire last year and a half either trying to show Miah that HE was wanted (in the same ways I would want him to make me feel wanted) or retaliating when he didn't reciprocate by trying to make him feel unwanted back.
Each of my relationships has taken me to the very edge of this big, black hole. But each of them ended long before I had the chance to actually fall in, so that I could get to the bottom of my part of the failures. Miah is the only one who has stayed, the only one who stayed open, who didn't say, "Oh, you think this is all about MY issues? Well, F**k you. I am SO out of here!!!" All through this, even when our difficulties were so intense that he considered going off by himself to figure out his own part, he ALWAYS maintained his desire to work through it, to not break up, to figure everything out so that we could be together in the end.
And knowing this feels, finally, really really good. I understand, now, that my reason for wanting Miah to ask me to marry him was just more of me needing to feel wanted. But, what do I do with it? Now that I've fallen in and seen what is at the center of my dysfunction, how do I get back out and deal with real life in a healthier way?
Maybe it's as easy as licking to get to the center of a tootsie roll tootsie pop!! As long as I don't crunch...
I am currently Exhausted
I am listening to the heat
This is my inner dialouge of late. It's an old mantra I thought was long gone.
"You're useless. Useless. You're so useless, no one wants you."
"No one wants me. No one wants me."
A whole string of self-depricating mantras usually follow, but it generally starts with this one.
It seems to be of little consequence that, intellectually, I KNOW this isn't true. Infact, my intellect usually follows up with a tough-love self-speech. It doesn't affect the heart of it, though, the mantra repeating, at least not for long. I can stop it for awhile. But after 45 years, it seems hopeless that this inner dialouge will ever stop. I've gone to counseling and more counseling and then some more. I've repeated other, more positive mantras to myself over and over. I've prayed and prayed and prayed. I've experienced "healing". I've had a "letting go" ceremony where I wrote it and burned it up.
All it takes is for me to feel that a key person in my circle is rejecting me. Just my perceiving it, and it's an inside job. It isn't even anyone's fault anymore.
And the etiology doesn't matter any more, either. I know it came from core-forming experiences. But understanding why it is happening apparently isn't enough to make it sop happening either.
Miah doesn't ask me to marry him, even though even he states that's where he ultimately wants our relationship to go and he thinks he should. It = "no one wants you." That's what my psyche hears, even though, of course, it isn't true at all.
Miah doesn't bring me flowers, leave me notes, get me cards = "see? No one wants you...."
Miah doesn't nurture me, do nice things for me, leave me public declarations of his love for me anywhere, and the lack reinforces it all.
Miah considers going away to work through some of his own issues. It = "see? No one wants you. If you were wanted, he wouldn't go away."
I've come all this way, worked through so much, just to experience this again. I know it's happening for a reason, to show me my insides again, to show me I'm not whole yet inside myself. And so, I've been sent some more experiences so I can deal with it. Poor Miah.
I remember so clearly that line from "The Secret Garden." The little girl was being asked why she broke through the closed doors of the garden. She said, "Because it wasn't wanted." Just like her. Just like me. It went straight to my heart.
I know this is a public journal, and these processes are intimate. But journaling about it does help me make some progress that keeping it just inside my head misses, more often than not. And if I my writing about it helps anyone else, at least to let them know that they are not alone, then my sharing it is not useless.
Mama's, don't let your babies grow up to feel useless...
I am currently: understanding
Listening to: my insides evolve
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More letting go... 07/01/2008 06:55 p.m.
I had written a big long entry about this, about how Miah and I developed the current idea about him taking off for awhile to be on his own. But somehow, I hit some button that sent me to a blank journal entry page, and I lost it all. Grrrr.
Basically, we were discussing the progression of our relationship, and how difficult it's been for both of us lately.
For him, the difficulties have to do with feeling the pressure to "do what's right" by asking me to marry him but feeling paralyzed, the pressures of walking into a life (mine) that is already being lived on everyone else's terms, and how he feels himself lost in the midst of it. And, how he has discovered that since he's spending so much energy on the relationships at hand (with me, and the kids, and work), that he's not been able to adequately work through his past issues, which creates this unproductive, unhealthy place in him where what he ends up investing his energy instead into escape (through anything that will distract him), which ends up creating even greater dysfunction for us.
Also, he has great fears about marriage, and the possibility of failure, and fears about feeling unprepared for the challenges that must be faced with any relationship, but especially in a relationship with the built-in challenges of ours with our age differences, and me not being able to bear children anymore, and the future challenges of me growing old before him. His response to that fear is paralyzation. And as much as it causes me to suffer, I can't blame him.
For me, the difficulties have to do with my self esteem, and the effect I am allowing his lack of committment to have on it. I feel unwanted, undesired, ugly even. I feel I'm a burden to him. It's been obvious to me, from the beginning, that he really isn't ready to be married, but instead of just being able to say that, he's felt obligated to "make good" on everything he'd said before he got here, how he'd stated that he wanted to settle down and thought I was the girl he'd want to do that with. It's not like he intended to live a lie. I know that. But it hasn't been good for me to be with someone who isn't sure about being with me but stays anyway, and getting our communication to the point where we could discuss the truth has been very difficult.
I, too, have great fears about another marriage, and the possibility of one more failure. I have fears about his desires, and how they often don't include me, and where that might lead him during those natural "lull" times in any relationship. But MY response to those fears are to run headlong into them, as if confronting them in the most dramatic way possible might somehow conquer them. I'm glad, now, that we didn't allow my tendancies to dishonor his own process.
At one point during our very loooooong conversation last night, he spoke with some zeal about the short period between the breakup of his last relationship and coming to Oregon. I caught sight of a definite spark when he talked about how he loved it, not having to answer to anyone but himself and being able to live according to his own schedule and desires, about how he had started to feel the healing process begin and how he had started to deal with some of his dysfunctions. I couldn't help but notice how a tone of disappointment crept in when he recalled cutting that process short to come to Oregon to explore a relationship with me.
So, I said, "Well, what would you think about taking the opportunity to be on your own again for awhile?" I'd no sooner got the question all the way out when he visibly lit up. The first thing he wanted to clarify was whether or not that would mean we'd break up, as he did not want that under any circumstances. But as soon as he established that we didn't necessarily have to break up for him to be able to take some time to himself, he grabbed a hold of that idea and ran with it, talking excitedly about where he might go and what he might do. He finally settled on an idea to go to Hawaii, where one of his best friends is currently living. His idea is that, without the pressures of trying to build a life with me despite the difficulties we've been facing (but still having the security of our relationship as an anchor), on his own he could continue the healing process he'd begun before he came to Oregon, and he could work on being more whole, with the idea that his wholeness would facilitate a different beginning to our journey together when he gets back.
I don't know much, but after having lived 45 years, I do know that there are certain times in a person's life where certain experiences can be had, and those opportunities can be missed if they aren't taken. I know that if Miah stays here, under the heaviness of the responsibility of my life, and eventually asks me to marry him anyway, he will not be able to go back to have the experience of not having anyone to worry about but himself. And since he doesn't seem ready to take on this life with me anyway, I do think that he could accomplish much more in the way of healing and self discovery on his own if he doesn't have to focus on fitting himself into a life that is already in full swing, sort of coming into the show after so much of it has already been played out. As he puts it, "I'm a fish out of water here."
Of course the idea of letting him go, to have to face things totally on my own again, terrifies me. While our life together has had its difficulties, I have come to depend on him in so many ways, the solice of resting in his arms every night, of having my best friend here to comfort me when I am faltering. And, of course, my deepest fear is that (even though we won't "break up" for him to go) I suspect he won't come back to me at all, that he'll find a better life out there without me. Well, and how can I feel entirely bad about that? It's exactly what I've wished for him all along since life with me guarantees certain losses from his side, that he won't have children of his own, will never be with a woman his age whose energy matches his, whose beauty won't fade as quickly as mine is. And even though I unselfishly want for him a better life than I can give him, I am still selfish enough that, on some level, I want him for myself.
Right now, it's still in the planning stage. Miah will contact his friend in Hawaii tonight and see if going to hang out with him is really a possibility. And our idea at this point is that he wouldn't be gone for an indefinite amount of time, but maybe for a month or so. He would have to quit his job here, but that's something that he's wanted to happen anyway since part of his current job involves selling meat, which is totally against his spiritual beliefs.
I guess I'm glad we're talking about it now rather than later, even though it's going to be really hard to manage without him. After all, we've been living together now for a year and a half. I am stealing myself up, shoring up my emotions so he doesn't feel obligated to stay just because he sees me hurting. I think it will be hard for me to do this without a clean break, but it's not like I have any desire to be "available" for any other relationship, so it won't really be a sacrafice to remain alone but devoted to our relationship.
I know that if I had my preference, I would welcome a future with Miah. But only if he KNOWS that he KNOWS that a future with me is what he wants above all other possibilities. Even when you think you know that, the future can, at best, be fragile, but you have to start with some sort of a firm foundation.
Hopefully his time away will help him figure out where he wants his future to unfold.
In the meantime, please be patient if I fall apart a couple of times. I will survive this. I know I'm strong enough to get through it.
I am currently Questioning
I am listening to the summer rain
It took me all morning, but I finally tracked down someone who knew what happened to Paul. It was a co-worker of his named Louise, a bartender at the restaurant/lounge where Paul worked the last years of his life.
Apparently, while traveling to Salem one thick foggy day with a close friend (the friend was driving), they apparently attempted to pass a slow moving vehicle. But there was insufficient visability, and Paul's friend hit another car head on. Paul was killed instantly. But the weird part is that it happened exactly in front of the place where Paul and I lived when PJ died of SIDS.
Louise told me that he was well loved at the restaurant. She told me he talked about Joey all the time, and was sad they didn't have a relationship. She also told me that he never did marry anyone else, just like he told me he wouldn't, and that he rarely even dated. She said he just didn't seem that interested, but that, mostly, he was happy those last few years of his life.
I called Joey and told him this morning what I knew. He said, really, he didn't know him, and that he was sorry but that he didn't really feel too affected. I suspect as time passes, and especially after his son is born in October, he will feel the permanence of the loss of the opportunity to get to know his dad; to ask him about his life. He did ask if I had asked if Paul ever talked about him. I was able to tell him what Louise had told me, that he talked about him all the time.
I am just numb. I feel terrible that I didn't know sooner. I feel sad to think that Paul didn't ever love again, that I was his one chance, blown. I'm sorry he never had other children. I'm glad he had close friends in the end though. I'm terribly sad that Joey and Paul never sought one another out, that now, closure will be very difficult for Joey. I have to say, I'm glad Paul didn't suffer in his passing.
Beyond that I think it will take some time for me to grieve through this, to understand how I really feel. I feel an unjustified loss, but I feel it none the less.
Poor Miah, having to sit by while I get the news of two deaths in one day of people who were once dear to me. I think he feels a little helpless, but there isn't really anything he can do except to let me feel my feelings.
I think I may drive to Silverton sometime soon so I can pay my respects and say goodbye. Paul is buried at the same cemetery where PJ is buried. Not that I believe Paul is there, nor PJ. They aren't. We are, none of us, our bodies. But I haven't visited that cemetery for years, and perhaps it would help, somehow, to say a more proper goodbye. I told Joey that if he was interested in going, I would be glad to take the trip with him. He said "thanks, but I don't really think I'd be interested in doing that, since I didn't know him and all." I told him the offer would always be open.
I am currently: experiencing an overdue sadness
Listening to: my heart continue to beat
I don't know what came over me, but I was wondering about my friend, Marc Beebe, who was diagnosed with cancer in 2005. He and I had become friends after my marriage to John failed. We found one another on a dating site, but a real romance never materialized, even though he did ask me to marry him. But, he had his responsibilities in Wyoming, and I had mine here in Oregon, so we settled for a deep and rich friendship.
He was so good to me. He sent me flowers "just because someone as lovely as you deserves to see something pretty, even if it's just for a little while." He specifically requested the flowers be sent in a cobalt blue vase, because cobalt blue represented "the color of a true blue friend." He was that to me. He sent me a barage of cards, encouragement and love and self-esteem boosters. He was interested in the kids, and I remember one online conversation via web cam where he and Kate (my daughter) were talking about her first dance. The whole time our friendship was in full swing, he inquired after the kids and their well being. He offered to send money when things were tight (though I couldn't accept it). He would say things like, "Honey, just come to Wyoming. I'll take care of you. I have great health and dental insurance. We'll fix your teeth, and there's a great health club here you can join so you can exercise to your heart's content. Your kids will love it here..." Well, I never did go, of course.
Marc and I lost touch when John and I tried to reconcile one last time. When Marc and I finally reconnected in May of 2006 and the divorce had been final for several months, he told me that he had been diagnosed with cancer, but that he was in remission. Not long after that, around November of 2006, he had a relapse. He didn't have a significant other, so I offered to come and be with him, to take care of him, as his prognosis wasn't good. He considered my offer a good long time, and then finally decided that he couldn't ask me to leave my family here just for us to get close and then lose one another. He thought it would just make things worse for him if we both took on the deeper loss of our friendship in the event that he did die. "Besides," he'd said, "I'm going to bounce right back from this. I beat it once, I'm going to beat it again."
I'm not exactly sure why we stopped emailing and talking on the phone, but I think it was just too complicated for him to expend any energy on anything other than his recovery and his son in the end. I respected his space, and hoped he was recovering. But the cancer, apparently, had different intentions. I had asked his son to notify me if anything ever happened, but since I'd never actually met his family I'm sure a stranger from Oregon wasn't on anyone's contact list. One day, I emailed him just to check in, and it bounced back to me as undeliverable. I tried to contact his son, but the old number had been disconnected. I don't know why I didn't think to look in the online obituaries, but it didn't occur to me back then. Or maybe it did but their local paper wasn't online yet. I don't remember.
Well, it occured to me today. I found the newspaper for where he lived, and searched the obituaries. He was there, having passed away sometime in May of 2007. It's weird, to experience a loss so long after the actual event. But Miah reminded me that last year, around that time, I woke up one morning and said, "I think my friend Marc is gone." I looked again online, but didn't look for the newspaper of his home town. I was really hoping I was wrong, of course. I wasn't. What a loss of a kind and moral and wonderful person.
So............fast forward to this evening. I am talking on the phone with my son, Joey. He's 23. And the subject of his father, Paul, came up. I had left Paul back when Joey was only 3 months old as Paul had some severe anger and violence issues, and I knew I couldn't raise Joey in that environment. Paul only visited Joey three more times after that, and then my second husband adopted Joey when he was nearly 3 years old (with Paul's consent of course). Paul had said that he would agree to the adoption if he could continue to see Joey. I agreed, with the stipulation that Paul needed see Joey on a regular basis, at least every three months, or the deal was off because it would be too painful for Joey. Well, that was in the spring, and Paul didn't call back until Thanksgiving and wanted to take Joey for a weekend. Well, Joey had just turned 4 and hadn't even seen his father for over 2 years and really didn't know him. I couldn't just let him go off with someone I didn't trust, even if it was his dad. I was willing to let Paul come to where we were to see Joey, so Joey could get to know him, but Paul didn't think that was a good idea. He never called back.
I tried, unsuccessfully, to keep track of Joey's father. When Paul's dad died when Joey was about 7, I managed to track Paul down to offer my condolences. At that point, I gave him our phone number, but he never did use it. After a few more years, I tried but couldn't find him. He wasn't listed in any of the phone directories I looked at. I would hear of him now and again, but by the time the news reached me, the person who mentioned it didn't know where he was.
It doesn't surprise me that Paul never got a phone in his name. I contemplated paying for the information available in one of those online searches, but never did. Then, before I knew it, Joey was grown up and didn't want my help finding Paul. So I quit trying altogether...
Until this evening, when Joe and I were on the phone. We talked about finding his dad again, and I offered to go ahead and buy the information online if I could. I also mentioned that I would search the obituaries, since it had occured to me to do that earlier with my friend. Joe said that whatever information I could find, that would be cool, so I could sort of feel out the situation and see if Paul would be interested in reconnecting with Joey.
I found Paul in the obituaries a little over 2 hours ago, three years too late. Apparently, he died on March 5, 2005. The obituary spoke of Paul being survived by some foster family who reported he'd moved to that little city when he was 14, which wasn't accurate because Paul and I had moved there when Paul was about 20. The obituary said:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He ... enjoyed working along side his foster brother Craig.
He was a childlike person who enjoyed fishing, the outdoors, TV sports and his dog Rocky. He was a kind person who kept smiling in the face of many adversities.
He will be greatly missed by his adopted family.
Paul is survived by his foster mother, Peggy.....; foster sisters, Cori and husband Frank ..... and Jae ... ; foster brothers Cort ..... and Craig ....;
Paul’s son, Paul Jr.(P.J), and his father and mother, Joseph and Leona, preceded him in death.
So here it is, 4 am and I'm still awake, grieving. He was my first love. He was Joey's dad. The obituary doesn't mention another wife or any more children besides P.J. The last time I spoke with him, he must have been 28 or 29, he'd said, "Ali, I want to tell you something. You are the only woman I will ever love. I know that now. I was too young to know, and too young to figure out how to work things out so that you could stay with me. I will always be sorry for that. So, I just wanted you to know, there will never be anyone in my life like you, and I wish you so much happiness."
I cried and cried tonight, and I'm not quite sure why. He's been gone for over three years, so why should my awareness of him actually not being here anymore change anything?
How does this happen, that we lose touch in our relationships, and before you know it, it's too late. No possibility of communication. It just seems so surreal.
I am currently: bereft
Listening to: the echo of years
