SOLSC 2022 #6 - On hopelessness

 

It is March 2022 and time for the

 15th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge  

Every single day, for all thirty-one days of March,

writers will share stories.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

Most days, I begin quietly, contemplatively. I read, re-read, listen to, absorb a variety of meditative, loving, inspirational sources. It's somewhat aimless, unstructured, this quiet alone time. I take a lot of notes. I write write write in a daily journal. I write into the day. I love this time alone. It is sacred time.

Today begins with my finding these notes on an index card, kept at my writing table, from an interview I listened to ages ago... words from Devendra Banhart   - 

I have no faith -

zero, zilch, nada -

in today being a good day.

But I can try to do good today.

(I jotted them down quickly, they are perhaps an incomplete quote, but you get the idea.)

I love this.

Seriously, I do.

Just what I needed to absorb today.

I am grieving, we are grieving; raw from the death of our sister/sister-in-law just two weeks ago, the sad surprise of her death, all the emotions, history, memories it has dredged up... battered from the daily painful news of the war and atrocities in Ukraine; I could go on and on; yes, I'm just/we're just hurting, hurting, hurting. 

I have no faith -

zero, zilch, nada -

in today being a good day.

But I can try to do good today.

I went out on a long walk by myself, trying to lose myself in my head, pound and ground my body to churn away all the yuck inside...yes, if I can't seem to solve it through writing, I'll often try to walk it off.

There was this little guy, maybe eight years old, struggling with his bicycle - walking it on the side of the road. He wasn't someone I knew, he was a stranger to me, just a young boy. He was at that 'thickening' stage of child development, before height and hormones come racing in. I was immediately heartened to see him, just to feast my eyes on his roundness, thinking about my three sons when they were younger, how they grew just like this. Yes, I'm a weirdo. Hahaha. Anyhow, I called out to him - 

Do you need help? 

And he shook his head, no. At once, I could see the mixed-bag fear of 'I don't know you, lady, I'm not supposed to talk to strangers,' maybe even - 'hey, neither of us is wearing a mask, I need to keep away from you.' But his sweaty, frustrated face, the struggle and exhaustion in his eyes, made me think otherwise - he did need help. He couldn't get the bike going. I crossed the street to his side, keeping a distance, and said gently,

Looks like that could be the chain. I've had that happen a time or two. May I give you a hand? and I pointed towards the bike. 

He whispered, okay and rolled/scooched the bike towards me.

One knee in the dirt, next to the bike, I held the bike up with one hand, and took stock - yep, there's the drooping chain, slipped off. With my other hand, I grabbed it, pulled it, tucked it back into position onto the sprocket, instantaneously feeling the mucky slime of grease on my fingers (such a distant yet familiar feeling is bike grease). I rolled the bike back towards the boy, and wiped my greasy hands in the grass.

Give that a go. I think that's all it needed.

He jumped back on the bike and rode off, with an enthusiastic - Yes! It works! and an even bigger shout "THANK YOU!"

Leaving me smiling.

I have no faith -

zero, zilch, nada -

in today being a good day.

But I can try to do good today.

My little part of the nightmare

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.

                                                        Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

Today's slice is a lament.

My Dad is now under hospice care. I've written about him lots these past few years. He is 91; has been in feeble health due to Parkinson's; lives in a nursing home in Maine (near others in my family). In recent days, he has begun to decline rapidly, spending whole days in bed, not eating much or at all, and complaining of pain.

The goal is to keep him comfortable and at ease. Hospice is so beautiful at this.

I feel so much sadness. Brokenness. Stuck in this fog of uncertainty and mixed-up confusion. Should be there. Can't be there. Don't dare be there. Want to be there. Not permitted there. Hard to imagine him there.

He is dying, all alone.

This past Friday, we received word that there were now several cases of COVID in the nursing home. Not my Dad; to date, he has tested negative for COVID. However, he is being kept isolated, as is every resident, and no one, no one, no one is permitted to visit. 

My head hurts from this grievous puzzle:
To travel to see him means staying with family/friends, and putting them at risk from possible COVID picked up as I journeyed.
There's no possibility of seeing my father for two solid weeks, as the home is quarantined. 
In two weeks, it means having only brief visits with my Dad, and no real contact - though there is something called a "compassion" visit when he is perceived to be in his final days.
To travel back here, afterwards, is to put my sweet little 'pod' at risk - my toddler granddaughter, my son/daughter-in-law, who are expecting a second baby this fall.

Honestly, this is like a nightmare. This is my little part of the enormous nightmare that is happening throughout the world. 

I can still think of so much for which I am grateful.
I know it could be worse, it can always be worse.

I had a lovely Zoom call with him this past week and I look forward to another tomorrow, fingers crossed.

This sucks.

I think I need to not fight these heavy emotions I am experiencing, 
not gloss over them, 
just hurt. 
Take the quiet, the stillness, the emptiness, and hurt.

This little ditty of a poem appeared in my head, so this will be my share today:

so many "make do's"

pretend "must do's"

creative "to do's"

but nothing

absolute do

just so much grey

this day

a make myself do day

no zippety do dah

in a make myself do day

just need to accept

I'm feeling blue day