Last Tears

"These are the last tears I'm gonna cry for you." It is a song by the Indigo

Girls "Last Tears") that has caught my attention of late. No, I do not think

the tears I have shed are entirely gone, nor do I want them to be, but it is

time to move on. It is time to lose the anger. Grief, like death, seems to

go through stages and I have been stuck in anger for too long. I want to move

to acceptance. Not understanding, I do not think that will ever come, but

acceptance. Acceptance with memory intact. Acceptance without pain would be

nice, but I will be happy with acceptance without anger. Pain is an old

friend and I can deal with it.

Music has helped, more than I expected. I wrote earlier that I had put a lot

of my music aside: Meatloaf, David Wilcox, Manhattan Transfer, some of my

Lyle Lovett. I put aside most of the love songs I sang when I looked for

love, and sang after I found it. I also put away most of my classical music.

Cyndie did not know classical before we met and we had a wonderful time

learning it together, her for the first time and me really listening to old

favourites with a new appreciation. Same with jazz vocals and big band - they

all went into the bin, literally deleted from the computer, pretty much gone

forever. Some I may get back into, some I know I never will. David Wilcox is

probably gone forever. I discovered him when we met and his songs were the

leitmotif of our courtship, marriage, and now her suicide. One David Wilcox

song did help stabilize me. The song is "For Real" and the lines that meant

the most are, "Death took the husband of a neighbor of mine on a highway with

a drunk at the wheel. She told me 'Keep your clean hands off the laundry he

left and don't tell me you know how I feel'." (I know now to never use I know

how you feel for any tragedy, I do not...you do not either. At best, and it

is best, you can say you know what pain feels like.)

So, some new songs, some old friends untainted by memory. Tom Waits, who she

never liked, Indigo Girls, some new Jazz vocals by Jane Monheit even some

techno like the Safri Duo. Many of these songs hit hard, especially the

Indigo Girls one mentioned above. It is time to cry it out, then dry the

eyes..."I won't forget, I don't regret...but these are the last tears I am

gonna cry for you". Of course the singer will have more tears to shed, but

that the soul wrenching kind of tears needs to go away and stay away. Tears

of memory and loss are fine, tears leading to anger or dark sadness are not.

I do not want to forget, I want to accept.

Lots of Tom Waits helps as well, always has. I do not care if I am the only

person who likes him, he speaks to my heart and his voice is like mine so when

I hear the pain in his voice it feels like my own raised in song.

So. Going to give it a try. As the second anniversary of Cyndie's suicide

approaches, it is time. Not sure I can handle forgiveness, that is going to

take a bit longer and the betrayal was deep and personal. However, I think

she tried to atone for the betrayal by killing herself and I try to take that

into account. In my opinion, she had not a good enough reason - I was not

ready to say goodbye, I had no chance to say goodbye. If I am honest with

myself, I know that is part of what drives the anger, I did not get a chance

to say goodbye. The honest part of myself also admits that I never would have been

ready to say goodbye.

Because she did betray me, I am not sure what would have happened to us. I

would like to think I would have forgiven her, but I am not sure I could have.

My new partner and I were discussing things after dinner one night, around the

table with after dinner drinks. She said something beautiful and painful,

i.e., that she was happy with what we had, but thought that if Cyndie walked

in the door at that moment she was afraid I would go to her. I thought of

that and something crystalized in my head - no, I would not. The pain was too

keen. It is not the betrayal that would have made it almost impossible to

forgive, it was the fact that I was literally willing to die for her and she

was not willing to live for me. Maybe that is unfair to her, she was mentally

ill, but it is true. I would not now return to Cyndie if she was magically returned.

People mention that she had mental issues for years, and that it really was

not a surprise. Well, it was. She seemed to be getting better, had started

with a therapist after years without regular meetings. She had projects

started and had ordered things for her hobbies that only arrived after her

death. It was a surprise, yes. It was not a surprise, no.

A friend gave me a wonderful piece of advice early on. She said, do not make

her into a saint. True, she was not. However, I moved too far to the other

side and somewhat demonized her. That is also not true. She was a human,

both flaws and beauty. She was not always a good person, but I knew the demons

going in and learned many of the others. Maybe I could have forgiven the

affair, I do not think I ever could forgive the real betrayal of us - killing

herself. Suicide of this type is the ultimate selfish act.

I still had to deal with guilt and I do believe that drove the anger to a large

extent. The question of what I did or did not do haunted me a long time. I

have come to believe I could not have done more than I could. Her children,

we have five in common, say I made her happier and longer than anyone ever had

or probably could. I do take comfort in that. However, if I want to be

honest with myself, I have to admit that guilt drove at least part of the

anger. Easier to blame it all on her, is it not?

At Last - Etta James

( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVI254QGSQ4 )

So where am I now? I am with a person who loves me despite having seen me at

my worst. She is adorable, lovable, helpful, close without smothering, and I

finally believe she is going to stay, that she will not be taken from me. Oh,

yes, there was some guilt in giving my love to someone new - guilt that helped

to drive the anger, but I think I have moved beyond that. In an odd way I am

sure Cyndie wanted me to be happy and find someone who could give me all her

love. I got lucky and I did. One door closed and another one opened, to

quote an overused cliche. Repeat, I got lucky. Will there be more tears, more pain

at remembrance? I hope so, it means that I will have dealt with it. Any time

you lose a loved one there should be tears, there will be pain. There will

even be anger because one is never ready to say goodbye, but the anger should

be allowed to fade. The love and good times should be allowed to thin and

fade the anger and allow new love and good times in to complement, not

replace, the old ones. My new love and I both took a chance that things would

work, there were no guarantees. It has, very well. Moving on and being happy

is not a betrayal of memory, that was a hard thing to learn. Feeling guilty

for being happy is normal, but hiding beind anger to cover both loss and guilt

at moving on is dreadful.

So, are these the last tears I am gonna cry for you? No, surely not. This

November, 2009, the two year anniversary, I am abroad and alone. So, what will

I do? Have a drink, have a cry, wipe the tears, sober up, "make some coffee

black and strong, give thanks for healing time, finally make up my

mind...these are the last tears I'm gonna cry for you".

Last Tears - Indigo Girls

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NTnN5ehNbX4

I wrote this as pretty much a stream of consciousness and only reviewed to try and get caps and spelling right. I decided not to edit it. The formatting is screwed up and, frankly, I do not care. Comments always welcome, you can even say you know how I feel, but would prefer you just say you understand what pain and loss feel like.

And the anger still boils up at times...

As I stated in my last post, so long ago, I got married on 24 Jan 09 to a wonderful woman. She knows my flaws and past, loves me anyway, and has done much to bringing me back to normal. That is why I hate being pulled back into the painful past at times.

Yes, I know the past is there and cannot be forgotten. I do not want to forget it, I just want it to stay in the little box I created for it. Yeah, I know that will not work either.

I am happy, things are going well, life is good. For months after Cyndie killed herself I could not imagine ever saying those things again.

I think it is because things are going well that being pulled back into anger and pain is such a pain. Anyone who has ever lost someone will recognize how hearing a song or seeing a movie clip will bring back the memory of the lost one, bring back that pain. My particular problem with this is that I am so heavily involved in music. I have it playing almost all the time. Why is this a problem? Well, I exposed Cyndie to large body of music for the first time, especially classical, but also people like David Wilcox. If you do not know him, search him out. I can no longer listen to him and have deleted all his song files from my computer. Did the same with Mozart and Meatloaf. Both of them are too closely associated with her, and car trips, and lazing after making love.

However, that is not why the anger is back, I think. OK, I am not really sure. I think the real trigger was moving picture files off my computer and onto disk for storage. To do that, you have to look at them. Some were family type, some alone, some innocently intimate. All were twelve years of my life and seeing each one was like raking nails across a scab. Eventually it comes off and you bleed a bit. It is a self inflicted wound and you are angry with yourself for making it bleed and angry at the circumstances that lead to the first injury.

I do not want to lose my memories, I do not want to forget. There was much good in our life together, most of time together was good in fact. I want to look back without anger.

The new love in my life understands and accepts this. She has her own anger issues with the women who hurt me and our children so bad. I am actually glad to hear that from her, not sure why. When I spend a couple of days in a blue anger funk she always accepts and understands, leaving me room as needed. I know it hurts her and I feel some guilt about that, which she understands, but sees no reason to feel upset about. She is upset for and not at me. Yeah, I got lucky and I know it and tell her with every I love you.

So, the anger still pops up as we begin to approach the second anniversary of Cyndie's suicide. I try to accept it. Try to let it wash through me. Try not to scratch at the scab. I try to understand. I am so glad that I am not alone.

What a long, strange trip it has been - Part I

To recap: In November 2007, my wife committed suicide while I was in Afghanistan. I considered eating my gun or walking out into a mine field, but friends took my gun, sat with me and one even escorted me home to Charleston, SC.

The kids rallied around me. My friends rallied around. I survived the first week and the funeral and the cremation and the aching emptiness of a house not only empty, but bereft of life.

I had/have a good therapist and anti-depressants and made some promises. First promise I made was to scatter her ashes in the water at Isle of Palms beach in April '08. I knew this promise would make me hang on for a time and let the hole in my heart, in my life, scab over. I kept that promise and I kept the promise to the kids to not leave them without a father. I have been in wars, been poor, been homeless, been ill - holding the promise to the ash scattering and to my children was the hardest thing in my life.

I was not perfect. I broke my hand twice on inanimate objects - doors mostly. I went to a biker bar, picked a fight and beat the hell out of a stupid redneck, breaking my hand again. It felt good and I am not sorry I did it. However, I am ashamed at my lack of control for wanting to get into a fight. I realize it was part of a death wish.

I did not work for over a year, living on my pension and my savings. I ended up virtually broke.

My health went to hell as I stopped taking care of myself. My immune system took a dive and my thyroid went berserk and tried to kill me. This was one of the things that pulled me out, odd as that may sound. I went to the Dr, found out I was about two days away from a massive stroke and started to take care of the issue. It is still a problem, but is being controlled and I am getting better.

However, let me give credit where credit is due. I have a friend who was/is in love with me. She knew that love would go no where as I was married, but loved me anyway. She had her own struggle after my wife's suicide, not wanting to capitalize on the opportunity of a tragic act or take advantage of my grief, but wanting to be there for me. On my part, I nearly dropped contact on my way into my hermit crab shell. Long story short, we negotiated the mine field of issues, my therapist was so much help there I cannot thank her enough, and allowed love to grow.

Still shortening the story, my friend is now my love and on Saturday, 24 Jan 09, we will be married in front of family and friends. My kids love her and support the marriage and the ones who physically can will be in attendance.

I have more to say about working out if love was an option and dealing with death and the, "am I using her as a replacement", issue, but for now I can only say I got lucky. I am in love with Wendy as a separate and distinct person, and I want to marry her.

Good things can happen.

Death in the family - Again

Death in the family - Again

Gary Steven D, age 61, my second eldest brother, died after a long illness last Sunday. A short statement and one that cannot hope to encompass a rich life, that cannot capture how much his family loved him, that cannot capture how much he loved others, how he loved life.

Gary had a joy for life, a zest for it. He was a competitive swimmer in his youth, played baseball, and was a city star in High School football, often playing both offense and defense, a true 60 minute player. He was a Boy Scout, one of the youngest Eagle scouts ever, and a member of the Order of the Arrow along with earning a wealth of merit badges. The outdoor life suited Gary, he loved doing things and watching things and making things and learning about the world about him. He was also an excellent cook and once made a Thanksgiving dinner which his family still remembers as one of the best ever eaten, no mean feat among so many decades of holidays.

He won a football scholarship after High School, but was not ready for college at that time. He joined the United States Marines and did a tour in Vietnam in the artillery. He was lucky enough to escape physical injury, but the experience troubled his spirit. For all his ruggedness and outdoor spirit Gary was a sensitive man, moved by a good poem or movie. Moved by his love of family and friends. Moved by art and beauty.

Following the war, he returned to school, joined the United States Navy and became an X-Ray technician, working in several hospitals both in and then out of the Navy. However, he was increasingly plagued by ill health, some possibly due to his service in Vietnam. He faced each problem and each crisis with courage and perseverance. Finally, his body was too tired and he passed away from us, his loving and loved daughter by his side.

In the novel "Two Years Before the Mast", by Henry Dana, he relates an incident. A self important captain of a small coastal steamer, a carrier of cheap tinware and the like, was in the habit of hailing all ships he met to boost his own small ego. One day he hailed a ship dimly seen in the morning mist, crying out in his small and squeaky voice, "What ship is that, and whence, and whiter?" Out of the mist sailed a tall and majestic schooner laden with billows of snow white canvas sails, and a deep booming voice replied, "The Begum of Bengal, 128 days out of Canton, China, carrying the spices of India to Boston Harbor, homeward bound! What ship is that, whence and wither?"

This just crushed the little skipper and he humbly replied, "Only the Marianne, two hours out of harbor, bound for Kittery Point and carrying nothing in particular." He was humbled, as we all are at times. Humbled as Gary is, as we all are, by death. But for most of his life, Gary was not the humble Marianne, he was the majestic Begum of Bengal, 61 years out, heading for harbor and rest.

I miss him.

And so it goes

I survived the medical treatments and am, while not exactly healthy, better than I have been for a long time.

I also leave today to meet a sweet friend and ask her to come live with me and share the rest of my life. She knows my flaws, including that I am still getting over the death of my wife last year, and still wants to be with me. I fly today to NM and then we will drive back to Charleston SC together. A large blonde Lab will occupy the rear half of the car, if not slightly more. It will be nice to have love, laughter, and a dog in my house once again. Correction in our house, no more lonely.

I will probably post once or twice more here, and then I will let it die out. I hope to let this chapter in my life wind down. It will never end, there is too much history, and grown children and grandchildren to remind and be reminded. It is time to move on, time to stop crying except when I want to cry.

Suicide is the ultimate act of selfishness and leaves pain in its wake. If anyone reading this is considering suicide, please seek help. A cliche, but true none the less. If anyone reading this is the victim of suicide and needs to talk, write here and I will try to reply. I will continue to check this blog for that possibility.

To well wisher and friends, thanks. I made it this far.

And still more good news

Liver is fine. Initial blood tests showed issues but cat scans and follow-up tests have shown it is normal.

Only thing left now is thyroid. If I can find someone to accompany me, I can get that scheduled soon. Not sure why someone has to take me home, i.e., sign for me. I have driven home from worse things. Ah well, just something to be solved and I really should not complain.

All for now.

And a little more good news

Thyroid has to go, and sooner rather than later, but evidence for cancer is small, as the cancer should be, if present at all. Treatment for the thyroid, radiation kill, should make that issue moot. With any luck, will have the treatment/surgery by the middle of August. Short recovery period and then back overseas to work.

Liver is still iffy. Blood test show something, cat scan does not. Still working on it.

Just wanted to share some good news.