sueeeus

A collection of fragments until I can find how to process them further.

five years and ten million stitches of love

I thought I saw the hummingbird do a flyby past me on the deck, not long before I got the call to say goodbye.  I felt a surge, a thrill, a sense of hope.

Today I saw the hummingbird for certain.  Bright green.  One of mom’s favorite colors.  And not one, but two.  The other is a greyish brown, so maybe they are a pair.

Reading back on the dreams, I am caught up and overcome with further tears as I realize the one was prophetic, because it was exactly the scene when we were gathered with her to say goodbye.  I read it back and relive those moments, still so fresh in my mind.  In the physical present real world moment of saying goodbye, I felt at a loss, as though I couldn’t find the words to speak and I’d botched my only chance; in the spirit she knew that I was there with her and she knew exactly how I felt and what I wanted her to  know, limitless, undying love which shines around us like a million suns.

Some of the sorrow seems to revolve around wist.  There is no question about her now.  She’s blazing brightly, swimming in heaven’s embrace now.  The wist is for the earthly time, the moments not spent loving and joying, the time lost from all the things that distract us from love and joy.

So of course it comes to mind that if in this present moment I am rewinding and reviewing the aching years of her life and how she could have been more joyful, I can’t help but notice that I myself am often distracted from joy, and my own life is flying on by.

Forgetting to live my life joyfully because I’m busy taking care of or being concerned about something or someone else.  That’s not what I want.

Pot, kettle, black.  So I need to do a better job of living joyfully, of being present, of being aware of the journey.

I’ve been wrapped up in my quilt, soaking up the love and memories.  Every quilt has a story to tell.  Five years and ten million stitches, all at my mother’s hand, thinking of me, sewing her love to me with each and every stitch.  The colors, the fabric textures — she put careful thought into all of it.  This masterpiece has been stored away for years, because I never wanted it to get soiled or stained.   She would consider that ridiculous of me.  It’s a practical item,  meant to be used.

I’m using it now.  I wrap myself close and look at all the details and think about what life moments took place when those stitches were made, and realize how much love and life has been shared all along, in languages that I didn’t recognize.

The sadness is overwhelming.

My youngest brother died on Monday.  In some ways, it feels like forever ago.  And it feels sort of surreal, to see the word ‘dead’ and try to wrap my head around that word’s application to my brother.  How can that be?  It can’t possibly be.  But it is.

My work partner of 33 years retires this coming Monday, two days from now.  He’s had enough, and it seems that the tipping point has been reached.  It’s not worth it to continue pouring your heart and soul into something that is grossly misunderstood and undervalued, that seems to be constantly trampled underfoot.  He’s taken a beating, championing our cause, and I’m grateful that he persisted as long as he has.  The stress has made an impact on his health, and it simply can’t continue.

Three years ago today, my beautiful, vibrant niece died at the age of 29.  Today, and most days, our hearts ache for our people we’ve lost.

It’s a lot of loss to process.

Standing on the curb outside the office the other day, I said something about the timing being terrible, work-wise, but I need to take some time off soon, because I’m barely holding myself together.  I didn’t actually say the last part out loud, but my project manager asked me if I needed a hug.  I shook my head and was saying no as I stepped toward him and let myself be wrapped in his arms, and then we both kind of laughed and said, yes, I need a hug.  It was awkward in the sense that it’s sort of an unspoken thing that people at work don’t actually touch, and it was touching because it was a genuine human compassionate expression, and he hugged me with no perceivable awkwardness, and said quietly and softly, family is more important.  It was pure, kind, warm energy that he infused, and I soaked it up as deeply and quickly as I could, pulling myself away long before I was ready.  I don’t like to fall apart in front of people.

~*~*~*~

It feels as though the writing is on the wall, once more, and once more, the ship is sinking.  It was traumatic that time.  This time it’s traumatic with an extra twist of flashback fairy dust.  This time it feels like a tight clenching grip from the base of my throat to the top of my stomach, centered about my heart.  Sort of like the way the bladder pump fits in the palm of the hand as it’s squeezed to inflate the blood pressure sleeve.  This has been a persistent and increasing ache.  I’ve been stumbling across old blog posts in which I ramble on about work and exhaustion and stress and once I just get through this, then I’ll be able to catch my breath and everything will be fine.  I double check the date and recount and recall the stresses that I survived during that span of time, and say, ha, you thought you were at your limit then, and you’ve met and beyond exceeded it since then!  The human heart can be so resilient.  That, or I’m just killing myself slowly.  It’s PTSD, but instead of post-traumatic stress, it’s more like persistent traumatic stress, or maybe even perpetual traumatic stress.  It doesn’t seem to end.

My team in some ways is like an ugly bastard orphan that nobody wants — we don’t fit the traditional business model in these parts, and our first and second level management chain who understood our mission retired, and the remaining management chain had to absorb us, and don’t really know what to do with us.  We self-managed for quite some time, and that worked great.  Now it’s all about the funding, and not so much the purpose.  The thing that we do is a foundational element in the greater scheme of things, and rather than being stewarded carefully and respectfully, as one would expect things of great value to be stewarded, we are tossed about like a hot potato, dropped and smashed and left to scrape up our pieces and somehow put ourselves back together and keep on performing without missing a step, as if we were in tip top shape.

I’m feeling exceedingly depleted and am thinking about accelerating my retirement date, because I just don’t know how much longer I can go on like this.  It’s almost too much for me, this time.

He has gone back to the river of souls.

~*~*~*~

Sail on, little bird.  Sail on, my dear baby brother.  Thank you for shining your brightness in the world, for the time that you had to shine.  I’m the lucky one, that I got to be counted among your beloved.  We are the lucky ones, your beloved.  We love you so.

~*~*~*~

We are so connected, my tribe.  We seldom see each other, or speak with each other, but our ties run deep, not constrained by space and time.  We feel each other, as though we are networked together.  And so we are.

~*~*~*~

Such an inescapable anguish!  We know he wouldn’t wish this on any of us, my brothers in arms, and we are so acutely aware in this moment that we don’t ever wish this on each other, this inevitable part of living.  We don’t want each other to suffer.  We love each other too much, too deeply, and want to protect each other from such anguish.  To the extent that we chide with each other that we need to make a joint pact such that we can all just go at the same time and spare each other this part of things.  And then we laugh.  Because we know that it’s all just a part of things, and the thing that is important to remember in the here and now is just that, the here and now.  Live fully, here, now.  Joy in this day.  In this very day.  Love now.

~*~*~*~

I’m trying to find a way to describe with words the expression of these feelings.  Something like the way that all colors blend into one to become pure white, in a similar fashion, all emotions blend into one to become pure white love in its most raw and ragged form.  It’s blazing with a radiance that can almost not be looked upon, and the flames are ragged and jagged explosions, bursts, that radiate outward from the core, which is, I suppose, the main line, the spirit of God.  Exquisitely unbearable.  It’s a feeling that’s almost too painful and too exhilarating to feel, each extreme emotion pulled to its outermost ragged limit, to the point of shatter, and there they all coexist, all the emotions, as all the colors, on the verge of explosion, barely contained.  Raw.  Pure.  Love.

Reflecting on past moments of crisis, and  how I navigated through them, it seems that I kept on doing the thing that I was doing.  I went to work.  I think, maybe when the emotional stuff is beyond what I am able to process, I shift it behind a veil where I can keep an eye on it while continuing with life as usual.

So today I worked and dove into very focused and detailed tasks, to keep my mind fully contained.  It helped me today, but now it’s night, and now I am finally alone with my thoughts.  Now I can let tears fall down my face as I begin to wrangle all of me into concentrated loving attention that I can send out in waves to the people I love most in this world, my family.

I’m startled by every text notification ding.  I’m afraid to look and I’m desperately hopeful to look.  I’m similarly alarmed by the sound of the phone ringing.  I realize that I must hold my breath and not release it until I know who’s at the other end and why they’re contacting me, because I find myself exhaling when the determination has been made, and after that it’s difficult to catch my breath.  I can’t get enough air.

We all feel so helpless.  There is nothing we can do besides love and hope.

He wants to live!  He sure got a lemon of a vehicle, and figuring out its quirks has taken such toll, but he’s tried so hard to figure it out and give it what it needs.  He’s doing his part!  He’s done everything the doctors have told him to do.  He wants to live.  Or he wanted to, before this.  I don’t know if he wants to now, because this…  …this one’s ravaged him hard.  Is he in there, pounding his fists and shouting at us, hey, I’m right here, don’t worry, I’m just looking for that danged short so that I can fix the circuit and get this machine back online.   I hope.

There is so much love!  A steady stream of friends have come to the hospital to see him and wish him well and give their love.  He is a fine, fine person.

My family is aching.  The arms of my heart are wrapped around them, holding them tight.

I just recognized another interesting thing about emotional crisis.  Exhaustion.  Feeling like I’ve only barely begun to process the emotions, yet nearly overcome with exhaustion, to the extent that I feel that I could collapse or pass out.

Today my work partner of 33 years announced that he is retiring in three weeks.  I wonder what’s in store for the survivors.  I’m not that far behind him, because I’m targeting next July for myself, and I’m incredibly thankful that he chose to continue working with us as long as he has, but I’m trying not to panic over what’s in store for our project in the interim.  Or, more honestly, what’s in store for me.  We’re partners in a very narrow field, so I hope that doesn’t mean that I inherit his responsibilities.  I’m already drowning in my own, and I have a full plate just preparing for my own transition, because I don’t want to leave anything or anyone hanging.

I wonder what will happen with our project.  I’ve sort of thought of it as his magnum opus, but it hasn’t been realized to the vision intended, so I hope he can wrap up his career without a feeling of sadness for things not coming together as desired.  We certainly made heroic efforts and accomplishments, even so.

Maybe our Padawan will step up and surprise us.  He could do great.  Or maybe our project will morph into something completely different.

Whatever is in store, it’s nearly time to pass the baton.  It’s a difficult time.  It’s been an amazing ride, one way or another.  Somehow we managed to keep afloat five years beyond what seemed the last hurrah, the end of the last era.