Second Site

Grief, Part 2

Aug 092010

Isn’t it funny how the oddest things can set you off? A song. A smell.

A yard full of weeds.

Went to the house today to feed J’s cats while he’s gone. Placards all over the place announcing that the house I loved, the house I still love is an eyesore.

Because of the weeds.

Duh. I could have written the placard myself. But it’s not like I haven’t tried. Per instructions coming out of NYC, no less, I have gathered estimates, put together POs – to no avail. I guess if you’re out of state, it doesn’t really matter if the house someone loves is maintained.

Anyway, for your viewing pleasure:

That's the casita, back there behind the weeds.

First picture up is a view of the casita taken from the road that runs along the property. There are now so many weeds that the gravel road is nearly impassable. Guess it’s a good thing I don’t walk or drive over that way all that often. Still, when you stop to consider that the majority of the houses in this neighborhood are in the $700,000+ range, it’s kind of a shame that the place looks this bad. And once these weeds dry up – Whoosh. Can anyone say “fire hazard?”

Technically, there is only supposed to be ground cover here, as in HUGGING the ground.

This second picture shows the walkway up to the casita. Technically, the walkway is lined with flowers and ground cover. Nothing is meant to be higher than 3 inches. I’m 4’11,” and the weeds tower over me.

I walk that property and cry. I look at these pictures and cry. This house, this place, this compound was supposed to be J’s and my dream. It was supposed to be our start, our end – a place we’d die together. Instead, it reminds me of Sleeping Beauty and the Brambles that choke the life right out of the place.

I am much too old for fairy tales but no so old I’ve given up longing for a happy ending. The operative word here is “longing.” My longing does not equate to my “getting.”

It is out of my control. It’s up to the folks in NYC, and they obviously fail to appreciate the gravity of the situation – how such a beautiful, hopeful piece of land can be left just to rot. Decay in the summer sun.

I titled this Grief 2. It applies. Looking at these pictures fills me with unbearable, inconsolable:

Grief.

Me and J: The Family

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Jul 042010

Bad Days: Worse Nights

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Jun 302010

So, okay, I’m the first to admit that the past few weeks have been hard on me. I’m having trouble with nerve pain, so I’m on Neurontin, a medication that makes me sleepy. And slow. Think slug that’s just been doused

Vanessa In Search of a Toilet to Clean

with salt water.

Not well.

At any rate, I am not one to dwell in the crap, so in an attempt to lift my spirits, I give you Vanessa, who

obviously longs to clean my toilets.

Alas, if only she could.

Editing Out West

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Jun 282010

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Grief

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Jun 232010

I don’t have time to put a picture up today. Just time to write.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately – dwelling a lot lately – on the subject of grief. Grief is different than sadness or depression. Grief is something else entirely.

When you least expect it – you could be watching some inane comedy on TV, laughing idiotically along with the laugh track – when all of a sudden it hits you. In the gut. What you’ve lost. What you’ll never get back.

And the thing is you don’t grieve just for what you’ve lost. You grieve for what you never had. You grieve for what you thought you’d have.

It’s complicated.

That’s actually on my Facebook page – under relationship status – It’s Complicated.

Just like grief.

So I was outside weeding, tidying the yard, watering. And it’s a beautiful day. Sunny. Warm. The dogs were outside with me. When, completely unwanted, images just kept hitting me. Again and again and again.

Images.

Dresses. Antiques. Mexican glassware. Saltillo tile. Moving. The U-Haul. The ocean. The smell of pot. The dog racing down the hall. The coffee shop. The Pike. Those apartments. The Slush puppies.

All those images.

And all I can do is cry. Wrap my arms around myself and cry. I want my life back. I want what I thought I’d have. And I never will.

Ever.

And, hey, I’m surprised. Writing this post took less time than I’d thought, and I do have time to post a picture. A picture of seals taking refuge on a buoy. Out by the Pike. Back where my life with J started.