Nightmares

Visions & Nightmares

Last night was chock full of them for both my husband and I. His was his usual haunt by his father from the time that he literally intended to beat him to death. Mine with the remnants of my father’s memory haunting. I keep seeing him in my dreams just like nothing happened beyond mid-last year. And in the dreams I always feel myself thinking… WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?? Shouldn’t we call the cemetery or the funeral home to find out what happened to make you be here right now? But in the dream, I never verbalize it because everyone else seems normal and my mom is on cloud nine, of course. Who am I to ruin that?

Mom was telling me that she’s been having visions of him in the suit they buried him in just hovering over her… Silent. Staring. I figure it’s the way that she remembers him most vividly in the last days, sitting at his bedside while he slept or ignored her. The visions she has of Grandpa are animated and he is talkative…. But that is probably because her final memories of him are such. I haven’t seen Granny in a minute though. She might be all settled in where she is and doesn’t need to visit anymore. I, however, haven’t ever settled into the idea of her being gone.

Life has to move on, though. With or without your adapted comfort level.

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Expectations

Expectations

What a lofty ideal to manage. Loosely grounded in fact and experience, we form expectations from a cause & effect model. But there is an unknown variable in there. Something that makes any result ONLY a possibility and not a certainty. For example “If I work hard for long enough, then I will have some measure of success” – in a perfect world this statement works fine. But it’s contingent on what you do, who you do it for, what THEIR assessment of working hard is, what YOUR perception of success is and so forth. “If I have unprotected sex, then I should expect to become pregnant…” right – unless you are infertile or have a problematic womb or his sperm count is low or you missed the prime time in that month.

My husband has been tireless in the work he does for his fraternity. When I met him, he had just had major surgery on his knee (ACL) and was hobbling about on crutches. He would get on the LIRR (he was sans car at the time) and troop to Old Westbury from Brooklyn by himself and hold informationals and interest meetings. He would take the train wherever he needed to in order to deliver tickets to someone for an event that his chapter was hosting or support any and everyone’s event as an ambassador for his chapter. He would run committees on his own and work them to completion. His work ethic makes me think “well, what the hell am I doing??” He sets the standard bar that scares most people away because God forbid someone expects them to maintain that level of excellence. The one wish he had since those days on the crutches was to ascend to a position of leadership. Since he’s been an example… Why not lead by it? One would almost EXPECT that it would be the natural turn of events.

Well… He is president of his chapter. But to paraphrase Diddy “Mo’ power, mo’ problems”. One might expect a supported tenure filled with nurturing leadership skills, recognizing achievements made on his own and constructive, personality building feedback on things done right and wrong.

I, from all this distance away, have never witnessed so much backstabbing, underhanded, deceitful, un-brotherly, catty, inconsistent and plain old SHITTY ways in my entire life. But I’m beginning to learn that it’s the norm for this silly game of politics people play to hold power in something that usually means nothing to them but a footnote on their CV. But the ones that have it in their hearts and want to work SO hard and make a difference are vilified, crucified and excommunicated from what they love doing.

I am praying that my perception is a hasty one. But 13 years in my own politic driven circle and 10 years of observing my husband in his…

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Esoteric

Esoteric

Sometimes… I just can’t blog… But need to. Sometimes I end up writing in code because certain things shouldn’t be put out there for public consumption. Either because i’m bound to a confidentiality. Or i’m aware that my job colleagues might be reading. Sometimes because I don’t want to debunk the established thoughts one might have of someone they might roam in similar circles with. This is not an old practice for me.

While unpacking the contents of 32 years jammed up in my room back at mom’s, I found a journal from High School. (one day I’ll transcribe all my journals) . It’s funny to be able to look back 15 years to the day and see what you were up to. On that particular day, I was complaining about the hasty decision I’d made to give my virginity away to my boyfriend at the time. Making it sound like I ever enjoyed sex with him. Lies. I never really did. I just did it all under the auspice of “this is what people who love each other do for each other”. But I wrote it in such a way that I could decipher, 15 years later, where the lies were.

I have no way of drawing pretty verbal mazes around what I’m currently experiencing. There’s too much and it’s too sensitive. But I needed to blog.

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The Beginning of Understanding

The Beginning of Understanding

This weekend, my hubby had a conference he was attending for his Fraternity. And although he didn’t opt to stay overnight out there, he was gone from 6 AM Friday morning to 2 AM Saturday morning and then again from 7 AM Saturday Morning until a few minutes ago tonight (1:00 AM Sunday Morning). Friday wasn’t so bad because I had work and I had lined up hanging outs with others so that the time wouldn’t seem so vacant. I got home thinking that I only had a few hours to go before he got home so as I cozied up on the couch with our comforter at midnight thinking he’d walk through the door any minute, I let the boob tube rot my mind away and I fell asleep only to be stirred by his entrance into the house at 2. He gently led me to our bed, he disrobed and we slept.

The next thing I knew I was being greeted by his sweet morning entrance and exit kisses (the ones he gives me coming into and out of the room while he prepares to go somewhere). These last few days they’ve been extra wonderful because he wants to assure that I remember receiving them (since I accused him once this week of not giving them to me). Well, at 7:00 he gave me the last one as he announced that he was leaving. And I heard the door shut and his feet shuffle down the stairs through our bedroom wall. I laid there in bed staring at the ceiling. I looked at the time — entirely too early on a Saturday to galvanize anyone to do anything yet. So I tried to go back to sleep… to no avail. I woke up and decided to get to work around the house and see if I could tire myself enough to fall asleep again. That worked. And I fell asleep until 1:00 PM fading in and out being awoken every now and again by the sound of a sad dog barking and whining in the adjacent backyard. The final wake up call administered by my brother who called to find out what I was doing… and stated that I sounded like a”kitten who fell asleep in the sun waking up to get her bearings” (yeah, he has a way with words too). I announced that I’d be to our mother’s house in an hour, got up, showered and dressed in silence and hopped in my car and drove out to them.

There, I busied myself with the chores of family and a few hours later with just the slightest slivers of daylight left, escaped back to Brooklyn. I did a little light grocery shopping, ordered my dinner (and a little something for my hubby)… and then the wait began. I walked back and forth between the bedroom and the office (opposite sides of the apartment), trying to wear away the minutes. Even the delivery people threatened “the wait time is 3 hours at this time” — Sure, I said. What have I got to lose? Of course the order came in 30 minutes. I surfed many websites. I came up with new decoration ideas for the office. I cleaned (again). I installed our new house phone and toyed with the idea of installing our theater system and then I ate as I decided against it.

Around midnight, I was doing my very routine watching of our wedding photo slide show, enjoying the memories of that day flashing on the screen as Donny sang… “home is a Castle, YOU built in my mind… I’m home anywhere… anytime…” and almost on cue, I heard the key unlatch our lock. I ran to my hunny and hugged and hugged and hugged and hugged him. I managed to dangle from him for the next hour as he removed his coat, took off his shoes, warmed his dinner, ate. I just doted on him and studied his profile… touched his skin and enjoyed his voice.

He was home. I was complete again. And I felt a huge sigh of relief escape my lips.

Tonight, I understand what my mom is sorely missing. Even if it wasn’t perceivably as sweet as I think what I have is… it was what she was used to for 38 years. Waiting for him to eventually come through that door.

What longing…

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The Little Things

The Little Things

I’m grateful for

• The amazing patter of the rain on our sky lights that fills our apartment with sweet, natural music
• My hubby’s morning ritual of kissing my sleeping face on the way in and out of the room as he prepares for his commute
• The sound of my mommy’s voice
• Sincere praise and appreciation from my superiors and elders
• Hope
• Cherry blossoms
• Vehicular transportation instead of train rides
• The gentle rock of train rides that calms your brain into a lull
• Really good, meaningful new music
• True friends that you know you’d do anything for and would do anything for you
• A really good hug
• My hubby’s smile
• My brother’s dreamer nature
• Marble pound cake from starbucks
• Quiet
• My ability to go up and down a set of stairs
• Being gainfully employed
• My sense of touch
• Vibrant colors
• Dry mounds in puddles by the curb to help you jump over
• That feeling that rushes through you when you complete a task
• A great night of sleep
• My hubby’s skin
• A good belly laugh

*sigh*

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