Ill and Delirious, Friend of My Heart

culture observations and personal mooning

[muttermuttermoo]

So the future is here, and it’s scarier than I thought it would be. So much fo the positive thinking about 2020. The virus seemed like an inconvenience, but when I learned my brother had pneumonia and was tested today, this whole pandemic burst into another dimension. The grief is coming again and it’s so scary.  The truth is that nothing can be planned for, we don’t know what’s coming, we must do our best and be our kindest because it can all go away so quickly.

[muttermuttermoo]

So happy to have a little yorkie on my lap who likes to snore on rainy days.

A dog on the lap is worth two in the bed.

[muttermuttermoo]

A decade ago today, my mother had a stroke. Her first stroke. She was at a Super Bowl Party with my Dad, and got a terrible headache. Such a bad, terrible headache that she asked to lie down in a guest bedroom of the host where the party was being held. Luckily my dad knew the symptoms - and she was at the hospital within twenty minutes.

He saved her life.

The next day was one of the hardest I can remember. It was snowing here on the East Coast, and my mother was having brain surgery - a 10-hour operation - while we waited. To hear if she would be able to speak, to move; how bad was the damage? 

In the end, it took three years, but she physically came back. She was able to walk, and talk. But it did impact her brain. We thought she had dementia - she tested positive for Alzheimer’s - and then we learned that actually the stroke had just permanently altered her executive functions. She didn’t have dementia, she had brain damage.

Ten years later, both she and my Dad are gone.

February is a hard month, and it just gets harder every year. It has a lot of death anniversaries, and even the skies cry.

But I love you always, Mom. And I’m so proud of how hard you worked to come back to us.

I miss you always.

[muttermuttermoo]

Happy Birthday Daddy!

I miss you and always will.

[muttermuttermoo]

People sometimes notice that I wear black all the time.

But legit, there is always something to mourn.

[weareonejazzhand]

X Jon Stewart a National Treasure

[muttermuttermoo]

Thank you Jon Stewart for remembering and fighting for the 9/11 first responders. 

We must take care of the responders who survived.  The ones who responded in the face of sheer terror. #NeverForget isn’t just a phrase.

[muttermuttermoo]

No one ever looks cold in fashion photos, but I am cold all the time.

[muttermuttermoo]

[muttermuttermoo]

Today is the ninth anniversary of my Mom’s first aneurysm.

She was at a Super Bowl party with my Dad, and got a terrible terrible headache. She went and lay down. My Dad came in to check on her a few minutes later and realized she was having a stroke.

She was at the hospital fifteen minutes later.

My Dad saved her life.

I miss them both so much.

I love you Mom and Dad.

[muttermuttermoo]

Separation

Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.

—W. S. Merwin, “Separation” from The Second Four Books of Poems

[muttermuttermoo]

Happy Blood Wolf Moon.

The moon looks awesome tonight, though not red on the East Coast of America (in my area)

[music-is-my-infinity]

“The heart wants what it wants.” (WAYNE EPISODE 2)

[muttermuttermoo]

True Romance, 2019

[muttermuttermoo]

There is not time in the world to do all we want to do.

Not enough time for the books I want to read. Not enough time for the projects I want to undertake. 

So life is just a feeling of being wasted, not having time...

[muttermuttermoo]

Unread books are imagined reading futures, not an indication of failure.

Anakana Schofield, “What we gain from keeping books – and why it doesn’t need to be ‘joy’”

[muttermuttermoo]

I miss my dogs.

I think I want a vacation but then I realized I’d rather cuddle with a ball of fluff.

I miss you little dogs.

[muttermuttermoo]

To all the other orphans in the world, let’s hope our parents watch from heaven. 

At least I had time with my Mom and Dad, some memories to hold onto during cold winter nights. 

I miss them so much. Bing Crosby sings and I cry. I smell gingerbread and I cry. I try to carve the memories more deeply. I’m so afraid I’m going to forget (the smell of my mother, the feel of her dress, the way her heels sounded on the hardwood floor on holidays) — the only things I have left.

[muttermuttermoo]

I never want to celebrate Christmas again.

The last real Christmas I had was my father, his last one before he died.

This is my first without my mother too.

I hate it.