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feralfae

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About feralfae

  • Rank
    Advanced Member
  • Birthday January 26

Previous Fields

  • Date of Death
    7 February 2012
  • Name/Location of Hospice if they were involved:
    Wonderful Rocky Mountain Hospice, Helena Montana

Profile Information

  • Your gender
    Female
  • Location (city, state)
    Helena Montana
  • Interests
    Archaeology, art, alpine climbing, classical music, Common Law, exploring, adventure, poetry, reading.

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1,999 profile views
  1. I guess you will be doing the same thing I do when the snow gets too deep. I live off of the gravel county road by half a mile, and our little private road sometimes get plowed, and sometimes not. I grew up where we sometimes could not get out for a couple of weeks and power would go out for days and days. Now it is not that tough, but your situation sounds tough. I usually wait to put things in coolers and outside for 24 hours or so, but don't open the refrigerator or freezer during that time if I can help it. But I know it is a worry. I am amazed you still have energy to type! Please take good care of yourself, and rest when you can. We got a bit more snow last night, looks like about an inch. I'll shovel later. I must go into town to pick up medication for my neighbor, who no longer drives and her son and his family are on vacation until the 27th in Mexico. Her husband has had another heart episode, and so we are happy he is not trying to do much. I am mostly wandering around thinking about my darling Sterling. He is back in the hospital with an infection in the leg. To have such a safe and sane job in such a safe place, and still get shot is simply beyond me. He is like your son—sort of a nerdy kid, and not much of a thinker outside of this field of research (researching anti-cancer agents from natural plants) so all this is pretty crazy for him. But you take care and don't try to do more than you can. I imaging Kodie is having a ball in the snow. Stay warm and cozy, and do only what you can. That is what I am doing today. Now I want to get to the pharmacy... *<twinkles>*
  2. Kay, I just was closing down for the night, and saw the weather report for your area. Can you call someone to come plow if it gets to be too much for you? They are forecasting a lot more snow your way. We are forecasted for a bit less. I am going to try to keep up with it, but will call the plow guy if it gets too deep. You take it as easy as you can. I realized this afternoon that I am back to my old habit of engaging in lots of physical activity when something is weighing on my mind, as my grandson's situation is. My bedroom is rearranged and spotless and sparkling. But I am not carrying any worry. I am just going to keep praying about this, and ask G*d for a leading. It always works. Have a good night of cozy sleep. There will be plenty of time tomorrow for us to face the snow. *<twinkles>*
  3. Yes, it was terrible. They wanted the women's purses and the men's wallets, not any of the lab stuff. They were just robbing peaceful people who work in a quiet setting with not much to rob except the people. It is really awful. (Probably) the same robbers hit a medical lab that processes specimens last week, in the research park about a half mile away, and took all the wallets and purses of the workers from their lockers and desks. Really scary. My grandson tried to protect the women who worked for him. That is when he got shot in the leg. He is totally traumatized. So glad they did not do worse. I can see the snow falling over on the Divide, but it is not due here for another couple of hours. You take care and pace yourself with the shoveling. Maybe shovel for 15 minutes then come in for cocoa or hot tea, and relax for a little while. Then go back out. I've been stacking firewood this morning and re-arranging my bedroom (finally!) after all these years of not wanting to change things around. But I am obviously taking a break right now for a little while, just to rest. You be sure to take it easy as you shovel. *<twinkles>*
  4. Yes, I think we got half an inch. It is -3˚F outside right now. i"ve yet to build a fire, but my dear young friend delivered another cord of firewood yesterday, then we sat around and talked about Doug for two hours. He and Doug had fished together a couple of times, and now his friend occasionally beings fresh fish and huckleberries to me, as well as my firewood. I pay him for the delivered firewood of course. But I don't stoke the stove at night: then the house heat takes over. It is my older grandson, who has been running his own lab. He is not doing well at all. He had not even told his parents about the armed robbery at his office, nor about him being shot in the leg during the robbery. The police have not caught the robber(s). My grandson may limp the rest of this life. I think he is deciding to go back on campus to do his research, even if the pay is about half what he was making. It will be a lot safer. Three labs were robbed the same day in the same research park. I am upset and concerned and very worried about his emotional state right now. I'll be talking with him again today, I hope. Meanwhile, I am still sorting things, although today I plan to make ghee, clean the upper level, and then make a grocery run for a shut-in friend. It is truly cold outside this morning. Kay, I hope you are staying warm. Gwen, I am sending all good thoughts your way, and will be in touch later today. *<twinkles>*
  5. My older daughter called last evening about Mother's things and also about the property in the estate—lots of land. I think we got all that straightened out, but I found out my older godson is not doing well. But also, she suggested that maybe we should go on a cruise this spring, take my grandsons, and she and her husband would host the entire adventure. I am going to stay on my own healing path, and see how I am doing by the first day of spring. Meanwhile, I am sorting papers and books from Mother, and also vowing to keep clearing my own things so that my life will be simpler and my estate smaller when I go. But I hope to live a lot longer, and to enjoy life more each year. It has taken eight years to come out of grief this far, and I know I still have a ways to go. Sorting books and papers has been a distraction from my loneliness, and I am very thankful for my dear girlfriends here as well as my Sunday meeting. I think Mother was far more isolated, especially when she lived in the middle of the huge home place, miles from anyone. I am making an effort to be more social and to have more human contact, but it is not easy, and I hope once I get through all this sorting of papers and books, I will be more determined to do more volunteer work when I am not out in the field doing research. I hope everyone has a good week. Kay, you take it easy with the shoveling. Gwen, I am keeping you in prayer to be well and recovered and feeling better. Much love to all, *<twinkles>*
  6. Gwen, I have been reading some of these posts this morning before I go to meeting, and I see that you are having pneumonia issues. Apparently, for some things I have read, grief can settle in the lungs. I guess it is fairly common. I am so sorry you have this additional burden of illness besides the grief. I will be thinking of you today and keeping you in my prayers. Yes, it is so hard to find purpose, to find a reason to go on after we lose our spouses. I think that is one reason I have held on to so many of Doug's things after all the years of caring for him—caring for his things has been a part of my purpose since he left. I am only slowly letting go of his papers, computers, so many things. Yet my heart still aches as I let go of even the small things. I hope you are feeling better. Please be as gentle and compassionate with yourself as you can, dear one. For all of us, I am keeping the goal and intention to be feeling a lot better, stronger, and healthier by the first day of Spring. I am determined to keep up my physical therapy and good living habits. Anything to get healthier. I hope you are doing the same. Much love to you, Gwen. *<twinkles>*
  7. Oh, gosh Kay! Thank you for the weather report. It does sound daunting. Yikes! At least it isn't all in one day, but that is a lot of snow to shovel in a very few days. Sorting through papers, feeling I am getting to know my mother better than I ever did growing up. I imagine the years of distance, and knowing she is free and happy now, out of pain and fear, is a huge relief and also makes it all right to love her now. Amazing cycles of grief. Stay cozy! *<twinkles>*
  8. Oh Kay, that is too much snow. We are expecting two or three days of snow, which I imagine is your snow heading toward us. I am trying to decide if I have the energy to fly out for Richard's memorial service. I sent the photos to his wife via FedEx. I opened the box of books this morning. On top was one of my own books: Smithsonian Ethnology Bulletin #30, Volume 1, published in 1912, a survey of Indians of North America. I have no idea when I might have left it with Mother. Probably while I was still at NU. I thought I'd left it with other books at NU thirty years ago. I am so very happy to have it back. There are some good math books in the box as well. More notes and marginal notes to read. I hope you have enough heat and that you and Kodie can stay in. Be cozy, and stay warm. I must call the plow guy today to get on his plowing schedule, and I have another load of firewood coming just in case we lose all power. The clouds are dark and heavy this morning, and there is a brisk wind. I imagine the weather is the same, but sooner, where you are. We get your storms a couple days after you, I think. *<twinkles>*
  9. Kay, I am so very sorry you lost your dear Kitty. 25 years is a good long life, but I know you will miss her presence in the house. I visited a friend who is a shut-in yesterday to take her groceries to her, and she has one cat who is her constant companion. I am glad you have Kodie there with you for company. We have snow and winter is definitely here, as it is 3˚F this morning. I hope you are staying cozy and don't have too much snow to shovel. I am going to open the last box of Mother's books later. My cousin said there are still lots of papers and notebooks to sort, so I may have more things coming. She found some poems Mother wrote. I did not know she wrote poetry. Meanwhile, I am gathering photos of Richard that I have, so we can have a "photo wall" at the memorial service. Too many losses. Sorry this is so rambling. *<twinkles>*
  10. Yes, Kay, I guess I am just feeling all these losses especially right now. I have what is probably the last box of Mother's books. I am not going to open it right now, because I am busy helping to plan the memorial service for Richard. His (second) wife does not have a lot of his early history, so I am helping to fill in some of the gaps. Also helping with lists of people who need to be notified. The memorial service for Richard is in 18 days, on the 26th, a Sunday. In February, one of my goddaughters is coming up to help me with sorting more of Doug's things for the godsons. All in all, yes, it does feel just like too much loss and reminders of loss right now. I know I will work through all of this, some of it will recycle yet again, and there will be more grief. I am trying to find enough joy and laughter in life to keep a balance. Have a wonderful rest of the week, dear one. *<twinkles>*
  11. I am thankful for the wonderful compassionate people here. Thank you for the understanding. I have no visitors coming today, and I don't have any visits to make. I picked up one of the math books in which my mother made a lot of notes. In some ways, I am getting to know her in a new way through reading her notes. I think she used her classroom as a distraction from her own fears. There are many notes in text books about making sure doors are locked, not being last to leave the building. She really did live in fear. I think, from her notes, that she was never actually treated for her PTSD. I know they tried different medications when she was hospitalized. But I don't think they used any of the diagnostic and treatment tools we have now. She really tried so hard to be "normal" and to do the right thing. But I think a lot of people could not understand her because they did not know her history. I think my Dad understood her and I know he took care of her all her life, even after they were separated and later divorced. Dad was still there for her. Yesterday, our dear friend Richard, who was David's best man at our wedding, a man who had gone to Colgate with David, and a friend of his for 60+ years, passed away. They had been at the same prep school for a year as well. They were in the same college fraternity. David was best man at Richard's wedding. I was just a guest at that one. All around me, it seems people I have known for many years are leaving. I know it is that time of life. So this is more grief added to the grief for my mother, who I wish I had been able to know better. It is a good quiet Sunday to remember family and friends who are gone, at the beginning of this new year and new decade. I am going to let myself have the day to be sad, to remember, and to release some of the sadness. *<twinkles>*
  12. Kay, I have a reprieve from surgery. The surgeon, who is a kindly chap, had reviewed my medical history and said we would wait a few months for any procedures so my body could heal from all that was done in 2019. Thank you for the well wishing, dear one. Yes, we are who we are and I think that is fine. Each person is unique and a result of their own intentions and of their lives. When I look back, I can see how fortunate I was to have my Grandmother and Dad, and I know my mother would have done better if she could have. She loved teaching, but sometimes would get very confused with her students. She never got tenure because she was not able to be reliable over time. You are right that we find a way to make peace with the parts of our past which need healing, and to let people go when it is time to shift our lives. I have this feeling that 2020 is going to bring more changes to my life, and I am working to understand Mother better, to be more at peace with her inability to care for her children, and to have sympathy and understanding for her, and for her own past which left her so confused and afraid. That she kept the little cards I made for her when she was first committed to a hospital really touched me. I had no idea she ever even looked at them. Reading the notes in her books, seeing the things she saved, is giving me a different view of her thoughts and actions. That in itself is healing for me. Thank you for your insightful words. Happy New Year and Much love, *<twinkles>*
  13. Here it is 2020. Happy New Year everyone. Although I am a lot stronger now, I remember clearly stumbling around after Doug left, feeling nothing but a huge emptiness. It was more than a year before I could feel much of anything. I remember my first smile, because I was driving to town and noticed how beautiful the clouds were. I was surprised that I felt a bit of joy. It really shocked me that I could have that emotion, because I thought I'd never feel any happiness again. It takes as long as it takes, and only yesterday, I was thinking of Doug and the tears started. I was remembering when we had many friends out for a new year's party here at our home. Some of us had been talking about that party, even as we were at another party that was a NYeve, eve party, a party for a friend whose birthday is December 30th. Three friends at the birthday party had also been at our New Year party ten years ago, when Doug was still doing well enough to host the event. I remember the first time after Doug left that I went for a short hike, and how good the sun felt on my skin, but how my aching heart kept pulling me back into the shadows of my grief. Sometimes, I'd go into the hills or mountains and wail at the sky, shaking my fist and so angry, frustrated, feeling guilty for not being able to save Doug no matter how hard we tried. But not, all these years later, I have more good days than sad days, and so I consider that a healing sign. All best wishes to everyone for this new year, and Blessings and of course *<fairy dust>* with much love...*<twinkles>*
  14. Oh, Attempting, of course you must meet and work through your grief and emotional pain in your own way. I was merely offering my experience more for comfort and not at all to confront. I don't think G*d ever makes random choices. I just don't understand most of them. I did not understand why Doug had to leave until he had been gone for some time. We know his cancer was from agent orange, so I think it was evil chemicals more than anyone who caused him to have cancer. I do understand how we wish we could have made better choices, had more options, knew more about cancer. We did not pick the right hospital the first time either, and I carried guilt about that for years. I was sure we could have saved him if we had started at a better hospital. But that was not my fault, or his. We were taking advice from the doctors. I still have guilt sometimes about things I wish I had done better, sooner, with more love. But I know I did the best I could, and while I wish I could say we had all the answers, we did not. And now I live this solo life, only now beginning to find my own solo balance after losing half of me. Peace to your heart. *<twinkles>*
  15. Oh, Keiron, what wise words you have shared, thank you. Attempting, I did much the same when my husband escaped his cancer-ravaged body. I wondered for a long time if one more clinical trial, one more round of an alternative chemo, even after two rounds had failed and the third was underway, when he succumbed to other issues. We did emergency jet ambulance to get him to a trusted surgeon. He did not want to spend the money on the flight, but I knew it was a good choice for him because many of his friends were there, to uplift and support him on his journey. I did not fully understand why I was unstoppably determined to get him to his trusted surgeon and where he had several medical friends. But now I know it was the very best thing he could have done. He called in two of his honest friends, and I left to forage for some cream of rice for him. I will never forget how their eyes had changed when I returned. We never can know why we are led as we are. But we can trust that things will work out for the best. When we are left here, in Life, I sometimes think we feel guilty for any joy we find. But I know Doug went to a greater joy, because I was holding him when he left. I felt his spirit move through my heart, leaving his Infinite Light there even as that same Infinite Light went off to play. He had opened his eyes, he was smiling, and he said, with a beaming grin, "Oh, Wow!" He is no doubt playing somewhere, having much fun, healed from his PTSD and doing something with energy, because that is what he talked about with the Angels before he left. Yes, I think sometimes we do not want to worry those around us, but anticipatory grieving is a necessary condition, especially for spouse caregivers and those very close to the heart of the Spirit now going out to play. If we but knew...it really is All in G*d's hands. The guilt is slow to leave, even as the grief is slow to leave, and it all takes time. Move into it, lean into it, at least stand next to it, hold grief's hand. Take little bits at a time. I hope you have loving and supportive people around you. Peace to your Heart, dear one. *<twinkles>*
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