Getting used to life without television.  Make dinner, read, then draw before going to bed.  Realized how for years I've been reading books with the drone and distraction of the tv in the background.  Have read two books this week.  Unheard of for decades - but I used to read at least a book a week, sometimes more.  Because there is nothing fighting for my attention am getting more from the books.  Lovely,

For weeks I've been waging war within; trying to believe all will be well and banish the fear of not having enough money to live on.  Had a call from Heritage management about Richard's respite care.  The government decrees 9 weeks  of respite a year.  Heritage says no, they only allow two so I didn't want to sign the contract.  Not having those extra 7 weeks costs over $1300 plus I'm immediately thrust into paying $560 a week rather than the approximately $350 respite costs.  My rough calculations says before everyday living expenses I would have $38 a week to live from. 

Quaking in my boots.  Because I am not entitled to a pension for almost 2 years it would take almost all our savings to keep Richard in care.  So if there is an extra vet bill, a car repair, anything out of the ordinary - and there is always something out of the ordinary - after 2 years I would have nothing left to pay it with.

But went in to see the manager yesterday with my handwritten list of bullet points in a vain effort to convince her why I needed those extra 7 weeks.  To no avail.  She was obdurate, kindly so but firm.  But she was also sympathetic and advised how she would work with me.  Advised me once Richard becomes permanent the single pension which pays for both of us would help me convince Centrelink of the need for a living wage.  Am waiting for approval for Jobseeker which I applied for last week.  Need to find two days a week voluntary work which will help defray the weekly cost of Heritage.  Linda also advised I seek help from a financial planner at Centrelink.  I don't have trouble budgeting.  I can, save for food - fresh fruit and vegetables - live cheaply. 

The upshot I left her office feeling much better than when I walked in.

The universe does have my back.

Also illustrated how what I fear most can actually be a hidden gift.  The loss of fear.

I slept well.  Didn't wake up at 2am to worry.

One of the books I read was the Dalai Lama's Cat.  Lovely little book using a cat's perspective to convey some of the Buddhist precepts for living.  Caused me to dig out several books on Buddhism gathering dust in the bookcase - one of which is by the Dalai Lama.    Hmmm.

Richard met me near reception yesterday.  He waves at some residents now.  He is less in his room and more involved with the residents.  He even took part in a singalong, well attended anyway.  He looks terrible.  The psoriasis is back with a vengeance but he'd rather have the sweets than smooth skin.  So be it and he's not looking at himself so what does it matter.  Cam visited on Tuesday and David on Wednesday so it'd been a few days since I'd seen him.  Never heard a word from Cam on how it went.  Know how soft Cam is beneath the capable male exterior so suspect the visit was gut wrenching.  But at least he came to see him.  Wonder when he'll be back.  And if Anthony will ever come.

In the clear black star pricked night a tree crashed.  An explosion of sound.  We are surrounded by rainforest here.  This morning I see no fallen tree.  But it fell, even surrounded and supported by other trees.

Like me.  I may be surrounded and supported by others but when I fall I fall alone.

Are we all our own worst enemy?    My ungoverned and ungovernable mind creates misery where there is none.  The mind weevil of the day, sometimes the moment, burrows and chews and itches.  My 'reality; might be walking down a beautiful road with the last light silhouetting Mt. Warning while a boa of cloud trails off the peak.  But my perceived reality is the Worry of the Moment. 

So I'd glanced at the Miracle of the Moment (and we are continually surrounded  by miracles) yet cast it aside to dwell on what might happen, what had happened or what I might do or say during the possibly might could be perhaps future.

And then, when I'd left the Miracle and had turned for home, through a tunnel of overarching camphors with the wild dark ravine on one side, I'd realized what I'd lost.  I could have stopped.  I could have savoured the beauty.  I could have rested my weary soul on the sun scored flanks of the mountain.  Instead I returned to that small cramped room of worry. 

I felt like I'd slapped away the hand of God. 

Although I do not meditate it doesn't prevent me from making a concerted effort to train my mind.  I can choose, with practice, what to think.  And what not to.

Malala Yousafzai just graduated from Oxford with a Philosophy, Politics and Economy degree.  Age 11 she was shot in the head  by a Taliban coward (who has just escaped from prison) for daring to advocate for girls education. An eleven year old child who knew and spoke her truth.  It nearly killed her but it also freed her. 

Finished reading a tiny gem of a book,True Pleasures:  A Memoir of Women in Paris by Lucinda Holdforth.  Women of every age, of any age, fleeing to Paris to become themselves rather than be crafted by the society and age they lived in.  George Sand, Coco Chanel, Edith Wharton, Nancy Mitford,  Pamela Digby Churchill Leland Harriman, Madame Pompadour, Gertrude Stein, Colette, Empress Josephine, Madame du Barry.  These women managed to scrape away the societal layers of male expectation(and female collaboration) to find who and what they were.  Their lives became larger than life because of this.  Finding ones true nature or purpose, even if it is only to be a mistress to a king, or write books in an age when women didn't, or design clothes.  They didn't have to be famous to be larger than life. 

Do we make ourselves small by living to the dictates of others?  Would our light shine brighter if the layers of 'stuff' were removed? 

The second night without a television.  It is a sneaky addiction.  I feel the loss.  The droning voice of a newscaster or the tired reprisal of the endlessly repeated Hollywood plotlines are company.  But I turned on the radio.  Oh no, Faust the opera.   Put on Joni Mitchell instead (Taming the Tiger then Turbulent Indigo) and tried to 'do' art.   Worked on the large pencil drawing but found I was uncomfortable.  There is no room.  I have to slide into the chair and it's not at a comfortable height.  Ditched the drawing and brought over the smaller watercolour background to see if I could find anything in it.  Took photos of strangler figs on the Dallis Park walk.  Used them.  Made a start but couldn't settle.

Lying awake at 2am the answer is obvious.  Change the furniture.  Move the couch back where it was before we bought the behemoth recliner (which is going to Richard tomorrow), and put the art table, office chair and armchair where the couch is.  Lots more room - and room to try and find the right chair for the art table. 

Richard was sitting on his bed yesterday, slumped and lethargic.  Got him to move outside where the sun was finally shining and a bush turkey was busy scraping together his nest mound.  Rubbed creme on his face, the psoriasis has returned with a vengeance.  He would answer my questions or make a comment, usually having little or anything to do with the subject, while staring fixedly into the middle distance.  Unblinking.  Partway through the visit a nurses aide came to tell me I was not to sit outside as I might infect one of the residents who might be walking by.  So back to the clean well appointed but stuffy depressing room - only because it is four walls - for the remainder.  The only time he perked up was to walk me out to the lobby. 

He is going to the dining room for meals and has met some people although he can't remember their names.  The nurses are kind to him, although he complained of a little Japanese nurse, Noriko? who was always getting him to do stuff - like have a shave or a shower.  As the strangeness of the surroundings become more familiar he is retreating into himself.  Every day he's been there, and while he was at the hospital, he knew who I was.   Was that a part of him being hyper vigilant because of the strangeness of the surroundings?   And now the surroundings are no longer threatening in their strangeness will there come a time when he won't know me again?

The 90+ lady in the next room, whimpers and pleads when they bathe her.  She is bedridden.  I saw a glimpse of her as I left.  24 hours a day in a bed.  The tedium only broken by the needs of the body.  I hope she has a rich inner life.  If not, I'd rather be dead.

I touch him all the time, hold his hand, put my arm across his shoulders, kiss his head, stroke his arm.  When I leave I hug him and ask he put his arms around me to hug me back.   But it is not enough.  The thief continues to plunder.

My tv went on the blink Friday night.  I was watching some movie with Jack Nicholson, Keanu Reeves and Diane Keaton.  There were a few just for (some hard earned) laughs of Nicholson's backside in a hospital gown.  It was a predictable rom com well below the talents of the the actors. 

Texted friends the next morning to see if their tvs also had 'check the cable' and 'weak signal' problems.  Nope, just me.  Got on the roof yesterday (took two attempts, allowed fear to whisper, 'what if you fall?) to check the aerial and cable.  Nothing obviously wrong.  There's a small tv on the wall in the kitchen experiencing the same problems so the trouble is not confined to one television. 

So after doing all I could reasonably (and cheaply!) do on my own I thought/realized it's a sign.  I want a new life and what better way to start than severing the umbilical addiction to television!  What did Stephen King call it?  The glass tit or something similar.  If I have to watch something I can use the computer or dig out one of numerous DVDs. 

For years after I came to Australia I didn't have a television, just a radio.  I read and painted, listened to music.  That's a good use of time and a stellar use of my remaining time.

No visit with Richard yesterday as I left making the appt too late so save for feeding the horses, I had no obligations.  Thought I'd go see the sea but it was dark, rainy and cold and the idea of a biting wind and salt spray wasn't attractive.  Rather I took Mikaela to Dallis Park.  She hasn't run free offlead for months.  I had my gum boots on after slopping through the mud to call the horses so was ready for the marshy areas.  The path runs parallel to the Tweed River.  One side the river, the other pandanus palms, strangler figs, looming black bean trees, elephant ears and ferns; a rainforest microcosm. 

As I walked this delicious feeling of freedom came over me.  No one knew I was there, I didn't have to be anywhere, I wasn't expected anywhere.  I didn't have to report to anyone, divulge my itinerary, explain, ask or argue.  I just went and stayed and left at a whim.

How lightly wears a whim!  Shackles I didn't know I had dropped away.  Yes, today appts again, things to do, places to be, people to see and it's all fine but even so, even so.....

The Tarot reading yesterday made for a peaceful day.  It was so accurate (save for the sentence about pregnancy and the assertion I will meet a new love 'soon') my belief  the Universe has got my back was reaffirmed.  "Calm that mind of yours" it said.   Yes, the hamster on a wheel that is my mind.  The hamster's tiny claws scratchig the metal wheel as it runs and runs and gets nowhere at 2am. 

A reminder just to put one foot in front of another and keep going.  There is no timekeeper, no judge except the quality of the outcome.  There was also the reference to my cantankerousness and rage.  Yes, I am quick to anger and prone to ***k it acts which care regretted later.  Have to remember to breathe.

And to forgive.  The boys.  So they haven't come.  They are fallible and frightened.  Because they have left a visit to their dad so long, it becomes even harder - and the longer they leave it the more difficult it is.  Growing exponentially with every postponement.

And I have done the same.  Many times.  Put off something difficult only to have it eventually loom so large the denial of the thing I must do is far worse than if I'd just done it in the first place.  Also, the shame and fear I haven't looked after Richard well enough, the times I was short with him, the times I was angry with him - like being angry at a kitten.  I am sorry for those moments.  For the love never wavered, just my maturity.

In a way, it has been a gift - having highlighted the worst aspects of my personality and the desire, because of my love for him, to do better.  And I did.  Far from perfect but I did do better.

Helen visited yesterday.  Richard glad to see her although he had one of those days when he seems unable to stop staring at a spot about 2 feet down and to the left of the person he is talking to.  He looked well and was nicely dressed.  Helen liked Heritage.  Am going to take him his bedside lamp to replace the Heritage one.  Has a warmer light and is a bit of home. 

Still working on replacing the toilet seat.  Third time lucky I thought.  The latest toilet seat is the right shape, is made for an enclosed pan, all systems go - but the plastic things which are to be inserted into the two holes to afix the seat are too big.  It's a caroma toilet, a well known popular brand.  How could they not fit.  So got the dremel and am trying to grind away the enamel.  Using up the ball on the end of the dremel so it's an interesting competition - which will succeed, the ball or the hole?

A Tarot Reading:

How you feel about yourself »

Judgement

You feel this is an end to an era or at least a certain phase of your life - you are taking stock and looking where you want to go from here.
This ending is not one for regret but for rejoicing. Soon you will enjoy the rewards for your past efforts.
As with any period of endings, many opportunities will present themselves and the choice that you make will have far-reaching implications that could change your life dramatically.

 What you want most right now »

The Empress

The cards suggest that at this time you desire comfort, security and happiness and may well need some emotional support and reassurance.
If you are considering having a baby the desire will be very strong at this time, or perhaps you are already pregnant and you have some concerns. If male, perhaps you are considering fatherhood with someone but have concerns.
Things will turn out fine, just know that you are loved and that there are people around you who care.

My  italics.

Your fears »

The Chariot

The word failure isn't in your vocabulary. You are worried things are more of a struggle than you expected, with more delays and frustrations.
Things aren't going according to plan at all - just chill out, calm that mind of yours and you'll find the strength to battle on until you succeed. This is a period of movement and change and conflicts ending in victory.

What is going for you »

Strength

Brave heart!
Your self-confidence and courageous spirit is unstoppable at the moment.
Be patient and compassionate, self-disciplined and strong and you will reap great rewards for your courage.

  What is going against you »

The Hermit

You are at risk of doing something hasty out of impatience and rage.
This is not a time for irrational and impulsive behaviour - don't be cantankerous (if closer to old than young!) or arrogant and resentful (if closer to young than old!) Try and remain calm and let the rage go. Take time to make a cool and collected decision.
The Hermit signals a warning not to make hasty decisions.

The likely outcome »

The Lovers

Love is coming into your life even if you really can't see where from at this time.
If you are on your own a new lover will soon enter your life.
If you are in an unhappy relationship you have a choice to make - go with your heart, take the risk. Greater happiness is ahead of you.

Thanks to the Powers That Be for this insightful and reassuring reading.

Richard has been accepted to live permanently at Heritage Lodge.  Huge relief.  He has a home and won't be cast adrift after two weeks. 

Relieved but weeping as I walked up the hill to the car.  Just tired I guess.  Also I have to somehow get power of attorney when he is unfit to sign permission (still rankles the doctor suggested I pursue POA so made appt with solicitor but when the letter went over to him asking whether Richard was fit to sign the doc he said no - so why suggest it?)  Anyway, after spending money I couldn't afford will try to obtain enduring guardianship through the NSW tribunal to avoid having to pay out more money I can't afford to get some solicitor to sign off on the bleeding obvious.

Feel like I'm chasing my tail.

Now that I know where and what and how much I can dig in and try and find work or at least get the jobseekers allowance to help defray the cost of Richard's care.  Also can sell the Yeti and make a concerted effort to sell the generator, the welder, some of the 'big' ticket items. 

I had a scrap piece of watercolour paper so put in a background wash of different colours hoping to be inspired and do something on top with coloured pencil.  Went to bed at 8:30 last night and 8 the night before.  Just have nothing left to be creative.  Still in harness.  One foot in front of the other.  Perhaps there will come a time when the dust has settled and I can work on the novel (been so long I hardly remember what it's about!), finish the current drawing and maybe even make something new.

Oh, and go to the beach!  Just to walk on the beach or take the kids kayak (I bought it because it fits in the caddy and it's light enough for me to carry) and sit on the river.  Or ramble in the woods without a schedule.

Whining again.  Bloody hell.  Change my mind and change the world.  Change my mind and change my world. 

Teary and depressed.  Not something I can force myself through to the other side.  Must be lived I guess.  Seems this blog is only a venue for complaints and whinging.  Talked with Fran last night while we walked.  Thirty years ago, despite the busyness and emotional upheavals, much of my energy was devoted to those penultimate questions; who am I, why am I here, what is the meaning of life.  Now I seem to tread water, waste time, endeavour to juggle a few balls in the air.  Where is the wisdom which comes with age?  Suspect when people die of old age, they are quite happy to go.  They must be soul tired.  And so tired.

Just listened to Graham Koehne 1914: Jim's Solo, Solitary Paradise, the Bird Sanctuary.  Achingly beautiful.  When all else fails, there is music. 

We'd been arguing about his credit card.  He wanted me to leave it.  I said no, it could be stolen and there was no place for him to use it anyway. 

He looked at me and said, "I'm buggered, aren't I?"

That cruel moment of clarity.  He is buggered.  Done for.  Finished.  Life will never be as it was.

I held his hand and said, "You've got a few problems, yes."

No more was said.  He apologized for making life difficult for me.  Apologized and I've taken everything, even  his cat.

Condensation over every surface in the house.  Rain today.  Feels like summer.  Up at quarter after five having tossed and turned most of the night because of the heat.  Is warmer outside than inside.  Temperatures rose during the night rather than the day.

Excellent visit yesterday.  Practiced wheelchair and walker mobility.  He was more settled, less anxious, not sad although he thinks he's working to get fit enough to come home.  I kept changing the subject although I lay in bed this morning wondering could he come home?  And then the guilt begins because I feel as though I have abandoned him.  Have to be realisitic, all the falls he had - and would have - one would eventually break something.   Wheelchairs won't work here and even a walker, he'd always be lifting it over the sliding glass door tracks - and there are three of them he'd have to cross multiple times a day. 

A memory came unbidden of when I fainted in a theatre many years ago.  As I came to I was overcome with sadness.  I had been vast, endless, in a great silence that wasn't empty and now, coming to consciousness, I was aware how I had to constrict, contort and force my essence into this small being called Holly.  I was bereft.

I mouth and play with the platitudes of the nature of reality but I don't live it.   Reality is a series of have tos, of endless thinking - not thoughts but thinking - of this reality and keeping all the balls in the air.  I don't meditate, I barely acknowledge nature I'm too busy thinking of all the things I must do that day.  I feel very small and very shallow. 

No art making.  I'm filling in a piece but I'm not creating.  I've been looking at the work of William Robinson.  Here's a mind exploring the nature of his reality and coming up with stunning answers. 

And it looks like I'm going to have to find work to offset the cost of everything.  Or get a jobseeker allowance while I look.  Might get paid (with the allowance) while I volunteer at the local vinnies or some such thing. 

As long as I don't owe anyone money and can feed everyone, including myself, it'll be all right. 

Richard is in Heritage Lodge.  He has a room of his own with a large ensuite, a sliding glass door onto a paved area with a table and two chairs, a tv, bedside table, chair and a bed that does everything but make a cuppa. 

Hardly slept last night for worrying.  Heritage is beautiful, even luxurious, more like a swish hotel than an aged care home, but the bed has no sides on it, the floor in the bathroom is hard and he's a long way from the nurses station.  He doesn't know/remember how to push the button if he needs to pee in the night.  The nurse said they would install a sensor to alert them when he got out of bed.  Hope they did.  No unfortunate phone calls or messages on the phone this morning so trust all went well.

Helped him to the loo twice yesterday, the first time very shaky and unbalanced, that familiar dread rising in my chest wondering if I could safely deliver him there and back.  Took so long he wee'd mostly on the floor but we did get there in the end (and I cleaned the floor, changed his clothes).  The second time was much better, more confident, slightly less wobbly.  He's been mostly flat on his back or sitting for over 2 weeks so will take a while to regain strength and what little balance he has.  But our goal is not to walk unaided -- too dangerous, rather we will get him mobile in a wheelchair.  Once he learns to drive it he has access to the common room, dining area, games room and the gardens. 

A bat colony is nearby, can see them from the parking lot and hear them from his room.  Birds and skinks abound.  Even those little snatches of nature will do him good, plus sunshine, blue sky and the sound of rain - which is coming this week.  Lots of rain. 

Saw and heard a couple of residents who are mentally challenged but most of the residents were well turned out women.  Dressed like they were going to the shops pushing trolleys rather than walkers.  Because Richard likes women and is a natural charmer I hope he will be 'adopted' by one or more of them.  It would be terrific if he makes friends and participates in some of the group activities -- there's stuff going on every day according to the activity calendar sheet.  I hope too he is accepted.  He isn't aggressive, abusive or violent but he does now sometimes exhibit the sundowner syndrome and he still has PTSD, although that manifests only as thrashing in bed and sometimes shouting. 
Just have to wait and see.

Received a somewhat patronizing lecturing letter from Cameron detailing all the things I must watch out for, asking innumerable questions and asking, bordering on demanding, to be involved in the decision making process.  A bit rich as he and his brother could not trouble themselves to come and visit him the 2 weeks he was in hospital.  Even Anthony who was primed to come and visit this week, if he could schedule work?!?, now makes noises about putting it off until Richard has been approved and is there permanently.  What difference does that make?  Cameron addresses all the questions regarding Richard's physical and mental health but ignores his heart health.  Like where are his sons?  Don't they love him? 

I answered the letter like I wanted to answer it, honestly, brutally, just to get it out of my system then went away and cooled off.  The letter I returned was reasonable, calm and to the point.  But I am disappointed in them.  I thought they were better men.  I thought they were more like their father.  But they are afraid and surprisingly, disappointingly, weak.

Yesterday so much better.  It was as though he'd considered things through the night - and he said he'd had a bad night - and came to the conclusion, that as a move into care is inevitable, he may as well accept it. 

It is perhaps the bravest thing Richard has ever done.

Much love in the room.  Told him, holding him close or as close as I could while he's lying in bed, he was and is the best thing that has ever happened to me.  Told him we've always been a team and always will be.  Told him we will get through this together as we've always got through things together.  Told him how I loved him.  And he told me he loved me too.

Today he moves to Heritage.  I know we are being looked after, that if this is the place he is meant to be, it will work out.  Finances too.  Every time, and it is often, I start to get scared, start to think there won't be enough, I dismiss the thought and counter with, 'if God can make the universe than sorting my finances isn't a problem'.

Dreadful visit.  Started out well enough.  Richard in a chair beside the bed.  I come around the corner and he's all wide-eyed, like a child.  It's a trait, that wide eyed look, which has only manifested since he's been in hospital.  His colour was good - but then twigged he's wearing the exelon patch which makes his colour 'high' so in reality he is quite pale, pale without the grey pallor of the sick.

Told him of the fox I saw yesterday.  Told him about Natalia jumping on the desk and somehow managing to turn off the computer.  Told him how much I loved him. 

He made a moue when I asked how breakfast porridge was.  Turns out he doesn't like porridge.  He said he had a good visit with David. 

Reminded him again how he would be moved to Heritage Lodge on Thursday.  His short term memory is poor.  He remembers selectively.  He remembers things which are of no consequence and forgets the things that are.  Of course to him, what is of consequence and what is not has a different definition.

He kept talking about coming home, how he had to be able to walk to come home.  I would counter by saying if he walked well enough I would take him out for coffee and we would sit on the river.  He seized on that and said he'd fish - not something he's shown one iota of interest in before.  When we moved here I bought him a fishing license but he fished in such a way guaranteed not to harm the fish. 

And then my hour was up and it was time to go.  Asked if there was a message he wanted to pass on to the boys.  "Tell them not to commit suicide," he said.  "Good heavens, they're not going to do that.  Why would you say that?"  "Because if they feel like I do that's what they'd do."

So I cried.   I can't look after him.  Physically impossible.  Took two people to get him into that chair.  But he feels abandoned.  Imprisoned.  Helpless.  All self-determination has been removed.  Dignity too.  I couldn't reassure him but I was crying so hard he felt bad, put a hand on my leg, said forget it.  But of course I can't.  I hope when he gets to Heritage he adjusts to it, they allow him to stay, and he forgives me.

What's in the mind will come out in the body.  After Richard went into hospital I got sore.  Niggly pains became real pains.  Emotions I've more or less held inside for years lodged in various parts of my body.  Now they've come out.  I can't ignore them (they hurt!) but have tried to accept them, to just ride them out until they do what they must do - which is tell the recent story of my life.  Not to say I don't have a good life, I do, but there has been grief, sadness, anger, frustration, fear, etc. 

So the back spasms, the large and powerful muscles across my lower back - just spasmed for 3 days.  Today almost all gone.  My legs and the tendons and ligaments running from legs to groin are sore.  Must be like training horses for endurance; muscles get fit quickly, tendons and ligaments take longer and bones take longest of all.  So muscle soreness pfffft, gone.  But trust the tendons and ligaments will heal too.  Just doing everything I normally do yet make allowances and not 'work' through the pain - something I've been wont to do.

Yesterday a friend visited Richard in hospital so I had an uninterrupted day at home.  Practiced guitar for the second day in a row.  Miserably apparent I've missed practice as what little hard won facility I'd gained has gone ... pfffft.  Revamped Marvin's avaiary with new backsheet, quite a fashionable check pattern in warm hues, replaced some perches, raked out the poo and filled in his nest holes.  Only four more aviaries to go!  And then, when the weather turns dry with low humidity must replace all the styrofoam insulation.  Trying a new glue as the previous gunk hasn't been ideal. 

Brought up my art table the other day.  Lee came around and helped me move the huge and heavy electric reclinder into the shed to make room.  Last night brought up the drawing I'd been working on before all 'this' hit.  Not ready to create, there's nothing in the well, but can scribble on what is already on the board. 

Haven't written for months either.  Until Richard is settled it is difficult to get a working routine.  If he stays at Heritage, another 8 minutes up the road from the farm, I can visit him first, do the horses on the way home and then stay home.  This going out twice in a day takes up the day. 

A friend invited herself over with a bottle of red, a kind and thoughtful gesture - but I asked for a rain check.  Save for sometimes walking in company in the arvo with a friend, I want to be alone.  Alone to let everything settle - for all the nigglies to come out and have their turn, alone to think.  Alone just to be alone.

There was a strange light on one of  The Sisters last night.  Wasn't the moon as it wasn't up yet.  Wasn't fog - I don't think as fog settles starts in the valley and it didn't swell or drift as fog does.  Got the binoculars out but couldn't see enough to make sense of it.  It was just down from the summit, a fat flattened W shape encompassing both sides of the 'triangle'. 

Two weeks today.  That's how long Richard has been in hospital.  Two weeks and neither of his sons have visited him. 

I couldn't visit Dad when he was dying but flew over to see him when the cards were on the table.  Dad and I were never as close as he was with Tam and we had our problems.  I think he was horrified I'd become like the women he dallied with; promiscuous - that's the word used to describe women, or a wo'man' of the world, if speaking of men.  And I wouldn't come home and 'do the right thing' - like please him, get a career, settle down, marry a nice man.

Except I did marry a nice man and Dad met him and approved so it was a mutually agreed truce - and I think part of him begrudgingly admired me for going it alone and living the life I chose.

As for Mom, no regrets.  I did the best I could, lived my life around visiting and caring for her, as much as she would allow me to anyway. 

I'm a selfish person, self-absorbed, spoiled, wanting to do my own thing when I want to do it.  So I understand the 'boys' reluctance to tear themselves away from comfortable routine to come see him.  Except he's their father and the longer they wait the more distant he becomes.  One day he'll be so far away the strongest love, the closest ties won't reach him.  And that's the memory that will live most strongly in their hearts.  His absence.  And theirs. 

At sixes and sevens yesterday.  Emotions all over the shop.  Found the second toilet seat I'd bought to replace stained one also didn't fit and wanted to cry.  Couldn't settle to anything.  Finally went outside and weeded just to do something.  So many huge projects to be done - all the aviaries need a good rake, need to have the styrofoam insulation replaced - like trying to create a Braque painting in 3D! - and have the moldy old back sheets (used to keep the afternoon sun from heating up the metal backs of the aviaries) torn down and replaced.  The rock garden is more weed than garden.  The windows need washing.  The deck furnitue needs to be cleaned and varnished.  The deck itself needs a varnish, haven't done it in 2 years.  But I went out and weeded weeny weeds instead.

Finally gave it up, cleaned up and drove in to see Richard.  Found he hadn't been out of bed for 2 days so nicely suggested it might be nice to get him in a wheelchair and outside.  Took 3 people, he's still a big man in height, length of legs, etc, but  finally got his bum on the wheelchair.  I checked the brakes and off we went.

Cuddled him a lot.  Wheeled him to the deck of the outdoor cafe, high in the treetops with long views across the valley.  Whoever had the foresight to build the hospital on top of the hill did a good thing. 

We aren't meant to be in windowless rooms for days on end.  Richard needed the sky above, the fast moving clouds, the fresh cool air.  We chased the fleeting sun in the parking lot - turned his face into the sun for at least 2 minutes.  Not ideal but a start.  Then he had to go to the loo and our wilderness sojourn was over.

Told him he's going to Heritage Lodge on Tuesday.  Told him I couldn't care for him, reminded him how many people it took to get him into the wheelchair when he disagreed.  That seemed to, at least temporarily, convince him.  Standing behind him, smelling his hair, my arms around him, kissing the top of his head - how I would love to have him home, how I would love to be capable of doing it all.  My poor darling.  And me.

Is life the ultimate zen koan?  Rather than what is the sound of one hand clapping it is what is the meaning of life?  And when you 'get' there is no answer, that's the answer?

Somehow Richard had managed to get out of bed and fall over at the hospital.  Unhurt save for another tear on his poor abused elbows which always bear the brunt of his falls - guess better than his hips.

He was more himself yesterday but mentally off with the fairies.  Realized as I was leaning in listening to another fantasy (how would we ever manage to sell this hospital?) I was humouring a stranger  because that's what you do.  But then there was a moment, a hug, a fierce hug, and the Richard of old asking if I had any idea how much he loved me?  My heart breaks.

And mends again.

What else can I do?  How he would hate this.  How he would hate being dependent upon others.  How he would hate the incontinence.  How he would hate not being in charge of his own fate. 

I don't know why things happen.  I don't know why there is unfairness and injustice.  I don't know if there even has to be a reason.  Is it the nature of our minds that everything must have a rationale?  And because of that we make ourselves miserable when we can't find one? 

Sometimes things are just too big to grasp, to make sense of and the only thing left is to put one foot in front of the other.  That's been my unofficial motto.  Just keep going.

During the riots of 1968 Mom and Dad sent Tam and I to live in a caravan on Sand Lake.  I was 13 and not too concerned with politics or riots, the Weathermen, Black Panthers or SDS.  I was more concerned with the lake.  I swam constantly, often at night, with my eyes just above the waterline looking back at the shore, looking at the moon mirror of the surface.  It was a world away from shouting and fighting and fires and guns. 

How I would like to take the world and give it Sand Lake so we could reclaim who we are.  We are creatures of magic and beauty and peace and we should and could, have a society where it's not a mad life scrabble just for existence but where there is enough for all (and there is enough for all - that's the great lie, that there is scarcity and want - it's in Big Business' interests to foment desire and inequality).   The child who sees the wonder in a grasshopper or movement of clouds or senses the great slow life within trees still exists in all adults.  But we've allowed ourselves to be trained to want more, always more 'stuff', more money, more 'status', more more more - when everything we need is already here.

What's that ridiculous statistic?  How much wealth is concentrated in the top 2% and the rest of us have everything else.  Something absurd.  How much is enough?  Food, shelter, something to do, something to learn, companionship, community - and time enough to find and cherish that child, that tiny godchild within.

While things begin to assume the predictability of routine the reality of this new life starts to sink in.  Through the emotional tumult the only thing one can do is get through one day after another, do what needs to be done, settle what needs to be settled (and it's unsettled yet.  Until he is moved to Heritage and 'passes' - meaning he isn't too much to handle - we're in a state of limbo).  Yet, the new reality hovers around the edges. 

The new reality is I live alone.  I answer to no one.  My time is my own and save for the obligations and responsibilities of Richard and the animals, I am my own woman.  I haven't known that freedom for over 30 years.   The first day of waking up solo I thought I must begin as I mean to continue. 

But the overarching question is:  who am I and what will I do?  One thing I'll certainly do is sit.  Sit in nature.  Find a rock and sit.  Sit and look.  Sit near a tree and 'feel' its 'treeness'.  Stare at the sky thru the leafy canopy.  Be still long enough the birds forget I'm there. 

I grab nature moments on the run, or the walk as it were.  Walking Mikaela usually.  How luxurious  to sit and do nothing but breathe.  There will always be obligations.  Today I'm not visiting Richard.  Only one person per patient a day is allowed and a friend from the Men's Shed is going instead.  I'd like to play hookey  and go to the beach or launch my child's kayak on the river but the small lawn is overgrown and the weeds around the aviaries lap at the mesh. 

A man comes today to fix the leak in the shed.  I might ask him to help me carry the artist table into the house.  I can't manage it  up the steps.  Going to rehome or relocate Richard's recliner, perhaps to Heritage if they'll take it and I can find someone to help me move it.  In its place I'll put the table and an office chair.  I saw a painting in Mark Shield's office during his op ed with David Brooks on PBS.  Don't know what the painting is about, only saw the intriguing shapes and a small but celebratory itch began.  If the table is up here I can draw in comfort.  Not going to try and heat the shed but I can heat the living room.

Which reminds me how parsimonious I've become.  Doomed to fail living on $180 a week and paying for all the extras of home/car ownership but am giving it a damn good try.  So keeping records.  If I don't spend anything for 2 days then I can afford to buy a 20kg bag of cat litter and one bottle of wine.  Priorities met!