March 3, 2014

New Microwave - Chrome and Black

Hubby was driving as we pulled into the driveway after our outing to Costco. Our microwave had bitten the dust within the last couple days. Our Costco "rewards" checks had come in the mail some five days earlier. We were able to purchase the new microwave with the invisible free money. A microwave is one item I purchase brand new and not second hand.

On our Costco run I also purchased a very large bottle of Tums and a bag of dark-chocolate cherries, blueberries, and cranberries.

As I walked from the car through the garage toward the house door, I carried my two small Costco purchases. My right hand held the large bottle of Tums. My left hand grasped the top of the chocolate-covered-berries bag as my left arm hung by my side gently swinging with my gait.

"I wouldn't have been able to do this less than two months ago," I said to Hubby as he walked with me through the garage to unlock the house door before going back to the car to haul in the microwave.

"I know," he responded. We paused for a silent moment looking at each other. "It really is a big deal that you can use your hands."

"I need to remind myself of that," I said. "I may not have much energy, but at least my body can function somewhat normally now. I need to remember that."

I paused.

"And that I can breathe; that's a big deal too," referring to previous decades in my life when I had suffered with severe asthma.

Last night as I typed into my private, online, personal journal an oft-repeated subject came off my keyboard onto the screen - my current lack of enthusiasm for life, this low energy, this apathy which I seem unable to shake. Then, I allowed myself to state it...that maybe I am still grieving loss and losses. But shouldn't I be done by now?

I feel alone in my grief.
And I am.
I have no one to share it with.
It is a subject that is mine and mine alone, for now.
Let it die Carol, let it die.
And if you can't let it die?
Grieve, grieve, grieve...
until the grieving is done.
But I don't cry...this grief...I don't cry.
I just exist...in a state of apathy.


As my manner is I typed "grief and apathy" into my search bar on my computer screen.

I found a website which deals not just with death, but with loss. Sometimes my grief doesn't seem "justified" because a loved one hasn't recently physically died which would be a "justifiable" cause for my grief. Yet, I would certainly understand if someone else were grieving due to the losses I can identify that I grieve. And then I scold myself for minimizing my own grief.

I like the new microwave. I like that it is easy to use; I don't need repeated lessons to figure it out. It  is chrome and black which matches other items in our kitchen - the black sink, the black refrigerator, the chrome-and-black food dehydrator, the chrome-and-black old coffee percolator. Our kitchen chromes and blacks sit among colors of creams and grays and wood-grains and purples and greens and burgundies.

This morning I looked through my bookshelf for the book Good Grief  and couldn't find it. I wonder if it has taken residence down the loan black hole?



A loan and alone
Alone and a loan
Grief and apathy
Apathy and grief
Chrome and black
Black and chrome


4 comments:

Alice said...

But shouldn't I be done by now?

I think that too, and I fear I'm just getting started. I get a message today that I am still being prayed for and quite frankly, it makes me angry (esp. from the person it is from who won't hear a thing I have said about all of this).

But anger is different than sad, so it mixes it up a bit, yes?

Love the poem.

oneperson said...

Thanks for the comment and kudos. You're the second person to state they like that weird poem. ;D

Yes..that anger...it's all mixed together.

The section in this blog piece that is written in italics are some lines directly from what I had written in my journal the previous night. I, of course, had written much more in my journal than the ten published italicized lines.

Ironically, or not,...some of the other words from that same journal entry which I didn't include in this blog piece are: "Anger. Longing. Adoration. Repugnance. It's such a mish mash."

All tied in with the grief aspect. It does mix up...quite a bit.

As far as the other person thinking you need prayer...it's rather arrogant, or at least can be an indicator of arrogance, on the other Person's part thinking another needs to be saved or bettered or healed or whatever the Person might project.

An added note that may relate to that message you got...I know you know that it's always a risk putting our stories public. I've come to see that some people don't get memoir. Some think that when we share the stories of our lives...including the questioning times or grieving times or what some consider "negative" times...some folks feel compelled to jump in with comfort or advice or analysis. (And I understand that from a human point and have done it myself, though I try to catch myself these days.)

Some go beyond the story...trying to "help" the narrator, when there isn't even a problem that needs helping.

Some (many?) don't get that the story simply "is." The story is a snapshot of a moment in time to be acknowledged and witnessed, not to be fixed and adjusted.

Maybe praying makes them feel better?

<3

Alice said...

That the story simply "is"...yes. I write because it helps me and if someone else can resonate, it can help us know we're not alone. But in the end, I'm not looking to be fixed.


It's very hard to navigate this conversation with people whom I very much care about and respect who do still believe. It's hard to know what to say without being insulting, but then again honest.

oneperson said...

"It's very hard to navigate this conversation with people whom I very much care about and respect who do still believe. It's hard to know what to say without being insulting, but then again honest."

I have the same struggle.

FWIW, from what I've read, you always come across with honesty and integrity...and with care and concern for the other person. <3