Defining the Differences

Baby, I try to look forward , & toward,
But sometimes all I see is before.
The roads well taken, the paths poorly walked,
The twisted & missed turnoffs
The signposts unseen, those ignored, & those I ran down

The lives we lead are the verses of our own songs
Sometimes tones ever sweet, sometimes subdued,
Sometimes fugues of requiem, other times anthems strong
Shaped by the music we heard, & the notes we sang out
And the rare duets that perfectly blended.

When my voice cracks on a note I should not have tried
I am saddened by it, like a student whose brush wavers
In front of the master, knowing that he has failed to learn
And the master’s eyes are pained by its’ imperfection
So that the work entire is diminished in his sight.

When I sing for you, I try to show my love
In the choice of the song, & my devotion to you
Knowing that my voice has faded, where yours has grown
And I wish not to gift you with imperfections
Or with songs that you will not understand.

I listen to the music of your life & hear mine echo
In the distance of memories. The sounds of my childhood,
Sunday afternoon Polka Party, KDKA-AM,
When there was happy music, before anger’s bacchanal,
And I reveled in its’ transitory lifting up of spirit.

How can I gift you with this, so foreign to who you are
So basic to who I am, who I was, & who I shall become?
Music to me now is Celtic, is Native, these
Things I have gathered to me in replacement
Of lost heritage, denied connections, atonal memories

I hear the music of your life, urban & unfamiliar
To me. How can I change my ears to your rhythms,
To live in a world of which I know nothing?
The answer is that I love you, & will step into your heart
And learn its’ beat, & gift to you the purest notes I can craft.

And I will live for the harmonies & forget the dissonance
For love is the truest song we can sing,
And all that is required is that we sing it together
In the key of love, always striving for the pitch
Of complete harmony, falling sweetly upon the ears of God.

Why Anger, Why Now?

Why am I angry now
After all has gone me by?
Where joy I saw as it flashed me past
Now see I but that which I detest
And me I detest anew for its' effect.


Shining sun & smiling face
Do naught to lift my heart
The promise of promises to be fulfilled
Leaves me no hope for happiness to come
Just loneliness is gifted me in my duress


So me this prison time arrests
And me grips in cold embrace
As water from a sky of ice
Escapes & mocks me with its' flight
Chilling the heart of me, gray & wasting


Anger me warms not with passion
Blood runs blue & frozen, mocking
The hardened veins deliver no breath
To a heart that cracks with every beat
Is life for me a cursing cross, or is it gone me without farewell?

Wasted Weekdays

Monday: too soon after I am gone, the missing stings with an acid tang. I feel you close, yet every mile, every second pulls me farther & longer away, & I resist. Monday I rail against the wind.

Tuesday: too long until Friday, a week's worth of longing in a compact 24-hour legacy of keen awareness of separation. Tuesday I stare at the mountain of days.

Wednesday: too long gone, too long til I return. In limbo, teetering on the brink of memory, above the chasm of empty days. Wednesday I chase my shadow.

Thursday: too much loneliness, no touch, too much do I yearn for you, & I must do it again tomorrow. Thursday I curse the sun.

Friday: too many days alone, sleep will not rescue me, the clock ticks too slowly. Tonight I will hold you. Friday I beg for sunset.

Saturday I wake & sit anxious to see your face, knowing the day will be filled with you.
Sunday I crave your eyes on mine & grieve that I must leave you again tonight.

The days turn, my love for you grows, an eternity looms until you are in my arms every day. Tick off the days, my darling: though the number falls, it still seems forever...

A Canyon, Far Too Wide

And now you stand so near,
But seem lifetimes away,
The time we never had
In moments, torn away.

So here, I wait for you
My soul in aching need,
To hold you in my arms,
And feel you, loving me.

Will God give me the time
To show you all my love,
Or is He reaching down
To take me, from above?

I know we can't be We,
Til others' paths are walked
And I cannot pretend
I am not reeling, rocked.

But this I tell your eyes,
All sparkling, burning blue
That my girl, my love,
I always have loved you.

So here I stand, beside
The chasm of our wait
To trust our God above
To bless our love, our fate.

To taste your kisses sweet,
Then taste the lonely tears
Of too many times apart
And the passage of my years

My girl, I promise to
Give you everything I know
To make you happy, girl,
Til the moment that I go.

When I lie awake, these nights
I see you, lying there,
I ache to touch your face,
And just caress your hair.

No, patience isn't mine
Perhaps it ne'er will be
But promises, I make
To hold your love, for me...

When Thunder rolls, across my soul

When thunder rolls across my soul I feel it in my bones
They rattle & quake & make me awake
And remind me that I live…

When thunder starts within my heart
With the roaring flood of my crimsoned blood
It reminds me that I live…

When thunder is flung straight thru my lungs
As an icy breeze, it brings me to my knees
And reminds me that I live.

When thunder finds itself upon my mind
Warm as a storm in summer’s dusk,
It reminds me that I live.

When thunder shears across my ears
And lightning flies ‘cross my brightening eyes
It remind me that I live.

When thunder rains within my brain
And I stand proud ‘neath a darkling cloud
It reminds me that I live

As welcome as new dawned day,
Be it clouded or hot, blue-skied or not,
You remind me why I live.

And I wish that you stood with me, too.
As long as I live, you have all I can give.
You remind me why I love.

In Senses Bold

In senses bold, taking life in

Does my mind wander aimless,

Tracking traces of my heart

Upon the doorsteps of those I love

Welcome in, they call

And I sometimes step over

The piles of my regrets

To accept a warm embrace

But knowing my stay within is short

I cast my eye upon the door

Regrets piled higher than before

Blocking my path to evermore.

So out I climb, the effort grows

Til I can no longer face the mound

Of lost possibilities, & missteps

And my journey turns aside.

Within me, I wonder as I wander,

What lies there, awaiting dawn

To pounce upon my consciousness

And skew the path to my redemption

Alone I walk, my hands so ache

For another hand to clasp ‘pon mine

And walk with me, wearing my coat

Amidst the winds of destiny’s chill

Stay warm, companion, mind me not

For cold is my companion, too

The dusting snow clings to my boots

To walk with me until the dawn

In darkness, stride, one step to next

The mocking stars gift me no light

No destination do I seek, now,

For it matters not now where I lie

In senses bold, I take life in,

And send it out, keeping none

Tracking traces of my heart

Past the doors of those I love.

Floating Love Finds a Heart

Upon the wind, with no wings to guide

Knowing only that it has a destination

And a destiny to fulfill, it soars

In search of a heart in which to bide.

Higher than the clouds, in airless cold it glides,

At the edge of nothing, it scans the sky

Its’ journey’s end, could be anywhere

In search of a heart in which to hide

And then, with no command to ride,

It dips into the air beneath

To fall so softly, then gather speed,

In search of a heart that is open wide.

Before it swells a hurricane’s tide,

A screaming wind huzzahs it on,

The sky it parts with no disdain,

In search of a heart to dwell inside

And there two hearts beat side by side,

Two souls in pain, with space within,

Two souls on grief once cast away,

In search of a heart unbound by pride.

The Father’s Hand waved their fears aside

And bade the flyer welcome there,

And into them both, love floated home,

In search of a heart in which to bide.

Ashes on the Wind

Dear Ones, We held the memorial for our beloved Regina on Saturday, June 7. It was a wonderful time, the weather was hot but not stifling, & the fellowship was loving & healing & fun.

We had 25 in attendance, bio & non-bio family, & great friends. Several who wanted to be there were unable, & we celebrated for them in their absence. Bud cooked meat, as is his solution to everything (happily!), & apparently I asked everyone that was coming to bring bread & plates… Think I’ll open a new eBay store called Paper Plates R Us!

We ate, visited, loved, cried, & enjoyed each other all afternoon. Regina’s youngest daughter CJ (Blond Bombshell#4) & her beautiful son Levi had a blowout on the highway, had to wait for assistance & then buy a tire, but they persevered & arrived in plenty of time before the ceremony began. Thanks to our Father the Creator for keeping them safe! CJ was very gracious, we enjoyed photos of her dear granddaughters, & it was a great blessing to see her again after a very long estrangement. We talked quite a bit, it was so wonderful to have her in my arms again, my beloved’s flesh & blood, with her lovely, piercing ice blue eyes & that dazzling smile I remember so well. I pray that she received some healing there, & I appreciate the strength that it took to participate in the service for her Mother, 1 day after laying her beloved Mother in Law Regina to rest. Did I mention that I love her very much, & owe her a deep debt of gratitude for introducing me to this astounding family so many years ago?

When it came time for ceremony, several folks took Regina’s collection of canes & walking sticks, Bud carried my staff that I carved years ago, & they formed 2 lines in the drive. Wearing the ceremonial garb Regina had made for me, I carried my darlin’s ashes between them & called them to begin. They proceeded down the drive, stopped at the end & raised her canes to form an arch thru which I bore her to a clearing. They formed a circle & the rest joined in to complete it. I spoke of why we were there, to fulfill her final wish & to celebrate her life, then told all that we would proceed around the circle so that anyone that wanted to share could do so. I held her ashes, & as we began, the songbirds started to sing out behind us, so clear & lovely a song to celebrate this holy time. Our son Myke was first, spoke of her & played his cedar Kiowa flute, then we moved around the circle. Some spoke, some did not, some were too overcome to speak their hearts; Laura (BBD#3) was the last, & read a powerful poem that she had published a few years ago. When it came to me, I spoke of the ones who could not attend, of the remarkable life I had been granted thru this family, & that although I was alone in the Lodge now, I realize that I will never be alone as I am surrounded by love.

I then read Genesis 3:19 – In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread til thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken; for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.

Then I read The Committal
“Everyone the Father gives to me will come to me;
I will never turn away anyone who believes in me.
He who raised Jesus Christ from the dead
will also give new life to our mortal bodies
through his indwelling Spirit.
My heart, therefore, is glad, and my spirit rejoices;
my body also shall rest in hope.
You will show me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy,
and in your right hand are pleasures for evermore.

In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life
through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty
God our beloved Regina, and we commit her body to the ground; & the wind,
earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless
her and keep her, the Lord make his face to shine upon him
and be gracious to her, the Lord lift up his countenance upon
her and give him peace. Amen. “

I told the congregation that I would then fulfill her final wish, & that anyone who wanted to walk with us was welcome, & anyone that wanted to participate in the scattering could do so. I began in the gardens she loved so much, then proceeded around the house. When we reached the back, the flock of ravens she loved began to call from the tall pines, & serenaded us as we rounded the house. When we got back to the starting spot, I stated: “My circle is complete: anyone who wishes to scatter her, please do so. Three of the grandkids stepped forward, as well as Bud. Then our son Myke & I walked to the screen room, scattered more there, then up the drive & around the two wolf sentries near the road. We returned to the start point, I stated, “It is finished – her final wish has been fulfilled. Now, let us celebrate life.”

We held to each other, gave our offerings of tears, & enjoyed company & fellowship until 11pm. Bud made funnel cakes, Myke made Navajo frybread, we played with the new kittens; truly, I could not have asked for a more loving & healing time. I was overcome with the sheer intensity of the love that these souls had for my beloved darlin’; the tender care they shared with me, & the joy of a reunion with CJ & Levi after far too long apart. May the Father our Creator bless & keep all them who loved her, may His arms wrap them in an embrace of Holy love & healing, may he rain down blessings upon them throughout all their days.

May the road rise to meet your feet,
The sun shine warmly upon your face,
The rain fall softly on your fields,
The wind be always at your back,
And until we meet again, may the Good Lord hold you in the palm of His Hand.

God bless you all: I love you, truly.

Death Comes Again

Just learned that Blond Bombshell #4's ex Mother In Law passed away this morning. I never met her personally, but I knew BBD#4's husband, & the bite of fresh grief is there, ripping open wounds that have hardly begun to heal less than a month since my Beloved Darlin' went Home to the Creator. Just think about the enormity of losing 2 Mothers, 2 Grandmothers, within 30 days...and both were named Regina.

BBD#4's children & grandchildren were close to their paternal Grandmother, as we were estranged from them for the last 17 years. They still plan to attend my darlin's memorial this Saturday, as their newly-passed Grandmother's ceremony will be Friday. So I take solace that we will try to retie bonds in face of loss & trust the Creator to weave them strongly once again.

As I heard the news of fresh tears, a song was playing on the AIROS stream: "Speak To Me Grandma" ©1992 by Jack Gladstone
This song touched me, as another timely gift from the creator:

"This song was written at the Babb, Montana schoolhouse on the morning of my Indian grandmother’s funeral. It was really an amazing gift that went smoothly from spirit to pen in only 14 minutes. It is dedicated to the awakening within us of the sanctity of oral tradition within the family."

"Speak to me Grandma I’m alone in my thoughts
Speak to me Grandma You’re at home with the thought...
There’s a wind blowing off the top of Divide
Through the valley of our old St. Mary
You have thrice earned the rest that you’e got
And the cross your fingers carry to beyond...
Now, I really can’t believe that you’re gone.

Speak to me Grandma, stories blossom in you
Speak to me Grandma legend blended with truth.
And your words brushed a portrait for us
In the Valley of our old St. Mary
Your eyes were the light for us
When our bodies couldn't carry us beyond...
Now, I really can’t believe that you’re gone.

You felt the buffalo go
You heard the stagecoach roll
You saw booming Altyn rise and fall
You rode your pony upon
Moccasin Flat at century’s dawn
The trails became roads
and the roads became old...
We listened to the stories that you told.

You wed a man from the north
Then ten fine children came forth
Alex still is your groom.
You were the center of us.
Still in our valley we trust
The vision of St. Mary
appeared upon the lake
And leaves me in this fast-closing wake.

Speak to me Grandma I’m alone in my thoughts
Speak to me Grandma You’re at home with the thought...
There’s a wind blowing off the top of Divide
Through the valley of our old St. Mary
You have thrice earned the rest that you’ve got
And the cross your fingers carry to beyond...
Now, I really can’t believe that you’re gone.

There’s a wind blowing off the top of Divide
Through the valley of our old St. Mary
You have thrice earned the rest that you’ve got
And the cross your fingers carry to beyond...
Now, I really can’t believe that you’re gone.

No I really can’t believe
It’s so hard to imagine.

I really don’t believe that you’re gone."

I offer my gift of new tears, & prayers that the Creator hold all our family close, & bear BBD#4, her children, & her children's children across this vale of loss & grieving.

The beat of the drum ties us to the earth, to the heartbeat of the world, to the life force of the Creator...let us all dance in His way.

For Fear...

Whence love first burst upon my breast,
In stunned surprise, I saw it there,
Too tender to take within my hands,
For fear to lose, or drive away

But love, it took itself to me,
Regarding not my spirit's trial,
And wrap't it's heart around my soul,
To bide til time stole it away

Yet deepest within my aching heart,
Bode love from echoes of eras past,
'Gainst all hope, to kindle anew,
That which I knew as lost to me.

Now I feel that I have again,
Driven away that which He gave,
Too tender to take within my hands,
For fear to lose, or drive away.

For fear to lose...again.

Tears of the Whippoorwill

Tears of the Whippoorwill

Do you hear that lonesome whippoorwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
I’m so lonesome I could cry

Have you ever seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind a cloud
To hide its face and cry

Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die
That means he’s lost the will to live
I’m so lonesome I could cry

The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I’m so lonesome I could cry

Hank Williams Sr. told my stepdad “Pops”, his drinking buddy, to listen for this song that he would write for him about being a lonesome soldier. Soon after, this song appeared, with its’ evocative, plaintive wail, an ode to love, loss, & emptiness.

I have always loved this song, even before Pops came on the scene. As a child, I was constantly lonely, craving something, someone who would love me, who could even in a small way understand me. Aunt Helen was the nearest to this, but she married & I was without love for many years.

Fortunately, I came to know a wonderful, amazing family of Blond Bombshells that saved me & changed my life forever. Here I found & married my beloved darlin’ WolfWife, & she loved me for 36 years. BBD#3 has been in my life pretty consistently: BBD #4 has been out of it since 1991, the other two for even longer. I place that blame squarely on my sagging shoulders: I understand. I took their Mother away, & they feel it was not my place to do so. I broke hearts, I severed ties of blood, I took love & tore it apart & left it gasping in my wake. I remember rage, I remember sharpness of tooth & tongue, I remember my evil nature rending that family as I imposed my will upon those I loved. I did not understand that I was Wolf then, ravenous for life enough to fill my empty gullet the only way I knew how, as the only emotions I understood were rage & bloodlust. I hear the bitterness, I curse this empathy that condemns me to feel the pain that I have inflicted upon them. No, I am not without sin, & I cast the stones upon myself.

Now, my darlin’ is gone from me, gone Home to the Creator with whom she will live for eternity, in joy, without pain or worry or burden. I know that time is not part of her existence, & I know that my life is mine to change so that I could be with her again in Heaven. I am also pragmatic & self-aware enough to know that I have not earned that ending, & probably never will. Perhaps the Father will allow me to see her once again from afar, a glimpse, a whisper of her soul as I am cast to my damnation. I do not presume to think that I know His will, but His salvation is too high a reward for me to delude myself that I could ever claim it. One wispy glance of her thru the veil of my destruction will be enough.

And so, it leaves me here for whatever time is left me: here, in this world of grief & pain & terror. Surrounded by family & friends & caring co-workers, I am lifted up to the point that I am afraid that I am not even grieving properly for my darlin’. Fleeting moments of pseudo-functionality are bookended by crashing lows & spurts of abject despair & longing. The absence of human touch is devastatingly familiar, as it was my life until I met my WolfWife. I did not wish to endure it then: it is no more attractive to me now.

I stood at the bank of the river-filled lake outside my office yesterday, watching the dark & rippling waters lapping their loads of trash & detritus against the bank, & I felt as if I belonged within the oily flotsam. I thought, “One step, just one little step forward, & I can join her, in 5 minutes. One step & 5 minutes…not a long journey at all…” However, since I know that no joy awaits me in that eternal infernal sleep, what does it matter when I begin my damnation? So here I am, laying down lines like Ol’ Hank, except that my napkin is a keyboard, & I am sober. Robins are rare in these lands, but my darlin’ & I have heard a whippoorwill at WolfLodge: now I can hear the sound of his tears splashing thru the pines, too many to bear, & too few to drown within.

I’m so lonesome, I could…die

The Fingerprints of God Touching Us

This post is in response to a request for our findings of the Fingerprints of God:
http://pamperingbeki.blogspot.com/2008/05/fingerprint-friday_22.html

Where do I see them? In myriad little moments of joy, which have surrounded me thru this journey of grief & loss. I hold on to every one as tightly as I can, each a lifeline to the rock of survival & sanity & transformation. Here is a partial list:

When my darlin' got to her final room at the hospital, she enjoyed the view of the Austin skyline, as well as she could see it by then. A concrete balcony outside her window was home to a pigeon family: strutting father whose job was to puff out his chest & pace the railing, chasing off squatters who tries to move in. He also occasionally brought food. Mother had a chick, just starting to try to fly a bit, & 1 egg. A day later, anther one was being busily rolled around & fussed over. A display of the circle of life, there courtesy of the Creator.

In a hospital waiting room in Austin, a lady called out to me "Aren't you from Bastrop?" I am. We then began to chat, & realized we knew many of the same wonderful, kindly souls in that & surrounding communities. She was in fact a pal of my darlin' wife from years ago, & we were able to share stories of love & charity, & she stopped in to see my pretty girl, & both their spirits were lifted.

As I was in the elevator heading for the lower level pharmacy minutes before she was to head to Hospice, everyone but me piled out at the 1st floor. In walked a young man who moved to the far corner. I was startled to see him: a buddy of our son's whom I had not seen for years, who is currently wed to our son's 1st wife. He works for a courier service & was making a quick delivery: I informed him of what was going on, & I do not know if he stopped by to see her: he was on the elevator for less than 15 seconds, amidst a metro area of 1,000,000+ people. There were the Fingerprints of God.

At the funeral home 2 days after she passed, the director informed me that she would be cremated in Kerrville. I almost came out of my chair: that tiny town was where we were married, so many years ago! When we picked her up, I related that story to another director, & in walked the man from Kerrville who had cared for her.

My darlin' leaned on everyone around to make sure I went to powwow in Fredericksburg. She passed a week before, & my son & I attended, planning to honor her in the prayer dance. Unfortunately it was too hot to allow the dancers to perform. Last year my darlin' & I attended & I parked her under a shady oak & headed out to get the car. A very concerned young fancy dancer came up to her: "Mother, are you all right? Can I get you a chair, or some water, or tea?" "No, son, thank you, but my husband will be here with the car in a moment." "Are you sure>" asked the dancer, "I can get you a chair from this vendor, & anything you want to drink..." "Thank you, I am fine: you have been taught well." she told him. His response: "Well, it is our way." "And a fine way it is, too" she said. He blinked in surprise, leaned in & whispered, "It is not often that we hear white people use that term!" "I too have been taught well!" she said. He laughed, patted her shoulder, & ran off as I pulled up. This year I pointed that spot out to our son as we entered, & as we left I stepped into the shade at that spot. I was immediately enveloped in her presence, with a powerful energy coursing thru my body. I lifted my eyes to Heaven & gave thanks for this gift. My son reached out knowingly, & patted me on the shoulder. Then I knew: the fingerprints of God had closed another circle.

Dear friends had given me an old power wheelchair for my darlin' which I found was too expensive to repair. I loaded it on my sister-girl's trailer along with assorted furniture that I threw out to make room for her care equipment. She was at a store in Rockne, (population what, 17?) when a group of South-of-the-Borderans approached the trailer,spotting the bottom frame of the chair. One told her (thru the language barrier) that he had the exact chair chassis which his loved one could not use as the seat frame was broken. He was thrilled to learn that she had the intact seat assembly right there: Sister-girl called me so excited, & I called my friends: they said they had just prayed that the chair would go to someone to whom it would be a blessing: Fingerprints? You bet!

I was outside our beloved Wolf Lodge speaking on the phone, when a little black bug started bumping me on the chest. I thought I recognized it, & followed it to the door, where it landed on a glass pane, rested for a moment, then lifted off, flew back to me as it lit up, then sailed straight up into the air until it faded from sight. Four years there, first lightning bug. These creatures were very special to my darlin', due to a camping trip we made long ago...

There are so many more of these blessings: I know that His Fingerprints are all over our lives, & certainly on my heart. I will continue to add to this post as I am able to remember them.

Heavy Nights, Unwelcome Days

Forcedly surrendering control: I guess that is about as well as I can say it. As I stated before, I am not in control of my emotions & cannot predict my reactions to the forks & turns & dips & climbs on this path that the Creator has placed 'neath my feet.

After a tough day yesterday, I got home & opened an envelope from Hospice, which contained information about grief resources, & a booklet entitled "Someone You Love Has Died". I knew that this little tome could help me, but it was too much to bear at that time. I found myself in bed, adrift in the dark, with my beloved darlin's ashes resting on my shoulder, her pillow clutched to my chest, under the blanket under which she died. I let it all go again, giving myself over to the thundering flood of raw, visceral emotion & pain & fear, letting out the tears which I certainly have not been hoarding. After an eternity, I calmed again, & was filled by the warmth of the presence of the Holy Spirit, & could feel my darlin' in my arms. I rocked her slowly, gently, as so many times before. I told her I loved her, which never seemed to cover the strength of the emotional bond we shared.

My tears replenished, & flowed, & again throughout the night as my grief took control & I was swept along. I had a powerful email from BBD#4 regarding the scattering of my darlin's ashes, & I wrote her as heartfelt an answer as possible. It reminded me of a poem my darlin' wrote for me many years ago, which I had never shared with anyone: I sent her a verse last night, & will post it here after I have shared with her blood kin. Perhaps it will be part of her memorial service: I think she would like that.

Today has been even harder: I had to leave the office & sit by the river, praying my flute, casting my prayers & my tears upon the waters. Next week, I begin bereavement counseling thru Hospice - I pray that I can bear it, & come out the other side as someone those closest to me can yet love. Please pray for me, that I do not drown in this sea of loneliness & despair.

Those Gorgeous Baby Blues Come Home

Dear ones,
The night my beloved darlin' went Home to the Creator, I delayed going home as long as I could. Intellectually & rhetorically, I knew that it was going to be "hard" to walk into Wolf Lodge alone for the first time. In a life stuffed with hyperbole, that statement may rank as the most ridiculous understatement of all my 53 years. I was woefully unprepared, completely naive, totally not in that particular loop.

As I stepped through the door, I began to cry. 2 more trips to the car helped soften the inevitable avalanche of raw, soul-rending emotion which I knew was overtaking me. After I had brought everything in, I lay on our bed & let it overtake me. Every fiber of my being screamed, wailed in an overarching despair which took me, storming into terror, threatening my very sanity (or what is left of it). "Come back to me, come back my beloved!" I cried, "I cannot do this by myself!" Everywhere I looked, I saw my beloved. Everything I touched, I felt her hand upon. When I finally could, I phoned my son & leaned on him. Then I leaned the weight of my loss on Blond Bombshell Daughter (BBD) #3, & we cried together for a long while.
My friends, take it from what veracity I have: never, ever do this alone. Never.

My beloved darlin' has come home to Wolf Lodge. She was cremated in Kerrville, where we were married so long ago. Another circle closed, another moment of joy, another gift from the Creator.
I can tell you all that I have discovered a remarkable lack of emotional control in me through these past weeks. Things that I feel I cannot bear come easily (or relatively so); things I feel prepared for devastate me. This is, I now realize, the Creator letting me know in no uncertain terms that He is in control, not me. As our friend Bud said last night, "Those times when you got through without a problem, the Father was carrying you." Footprints in the sand, walking the path of my soul...
I could not wait to bring her home, to have at least this most basic of physical manifestations with me in that now massive-seeming home. Yet, when the funeral director let me know that she was ready, I fell apart like a snowman in a hurricane. I leaned hard on BBD #3, & on dear friends to varying degrees. Mother Ruth & sister Becca went with me the next day & brought her home. I was fine all day, until I called BBD #4 to update her. As soon as that phone began to ring, I fell apart again, leaving a barely intelligible spluttering message. She texted me a response, to which I fumble-fingered an answer. After enduring my pitiful attempts at this mode of communication, she laughingly called to to put me out of my texting misery.
She was kinder & more empathetic than I had any right to expect, given the long estrangement. I told her we were stepping out onto ice we knew to be cracked, & I would take things very gently, very slowly, very tenderly so as to not hurt her again. I realized that I was being cruel to her in expressing my loneliness, as hers has been much longer a burden. She showed me grace, compassion, & great kindness. A strong woman, with a good & loving heart; I hope I can get to know it again.
I carry my darlin's ashes around the house with me, & lay the box on her pillow at night. I know she is not there, but it the last physical manifestation that I will ever have of the body I loved for most of my life, the body that bore such beautiful daughters, such a handsome son, that held so many babies, that worked & created & loved so deeply.
I have begun the process of attending bereavement counseling thru Hospice, as I try to find out who I am, now that the one who was my world is now not in this one with me. Becoming a One when I have always been a Two will be the tallest mountain I will ever climb: I pray that my journey earns me the right to meet my shining girl at the summit, to rejoin her for eternity in the Arms of our Creator.

The Longest Journey...

Dear Ones,
As many of you know, my darlin’ wife has been in failing health over the past year. She had several falls, one with a nasty concussion, & her ability to walk has deteriorated. Her Post-Polio Syndrome was proceeding rapidly, & it was difficult for her to pass on the mundane tasks of life & care to me as they became increasingly more difficult.

Through it all, her faith was unstoppable, & she refused to allow me to get her medical treatment. She had had enough of doctors, she said, after the polio, heart issues, rheumatic & scarlet fevers, 6 pregnancies, gall bladder: you get the picture. So, it was left to me & Doctor God to care for her, & I tried everything that I could think of to maximize her comfort & functionality.

On the evening of Friday April 25th, several family members visited for the evening. After they left, we spent 3 agonizing hours trying to get my beloved out of her chair, finally succeeding at 1:30am, exhilarated that we had discovered how to do it with a minimum of pain & discomfort for her. A few hours later, we tried again & she could not get up. Again we tried a couple of hours later, & she was unable to stand.

At this point, I sat down & told her that I could not do what she needed anymore, & she agreed to allow me to call 911. The paramedics were wonderful & took her to the local hospital, where she underwent several hours of intensely painful tests. They determined that she had advanced breast cancer & a mass on her liver, which was causing many of her problems. They transported her to an Austin hospital, expecting to take her to ICU. She spent most of the night in ER, & got to Intermediate Care early Saturday morning. She endured more tortuous pain as they staff evaluated her, & we got the results mid week that she indeed had an unfixable breast cancer & a mass on her liver. She did not want to undergo surgery, so we signed the Advanced Directive, her Do Not Resuscitate orders were in place, & we began the process to get her into Hospice care.

Throughout the week, as innumerable doctors came & went, poked, prodded, injected, tested, & manhandled her precious body, her spirits stayed strong. She enjoyed watching the pigeon family on the balcony, with one just learning to fly, 2 eggs, a doting mother & strutting father. True to form she was more worried for me than for herself. She told me, “I may have robbed you of a few years with a wife, but I hope you understand…” I did.

We witnessed love & cruelty, compassion & indifference, kindness & anger, as the parade of staff & volunteers seemed unending. The chaplains & social workers were of great comfort, especially when a particularly cold-hearted oncologist threatened our Hospice plan if we would not consent to yet another intensely painful test. By this time, my darlin’ was so distraught that she was unable to speak, & motioned for me to step in. I confronted this furious, hate-filled testmonger, who had deliberately misled us as to the nature of this test: (“It’s just a little needle, just a little needle…”) when in reality it entailed deflating her air bed & putting her on a flat table, which had been so painful to try earlier in the week that the nurse halted the test prep fearing a cardiac arrest due to her “howling in pain”. As she had a DNR on file, he would have had to let her die, all for a TEST! Upon my refusal to allow the test, Dr. TestMonger repeatedly threatened our Hospice plan. However, we are Wolf, & after a long, despairing night which caused my darlin’ to have severe chest pains, we rallied the troops of nurses, Drs, patient reps, social workers, chaplains, & Hospice nurses & accelerated the move to in-patient Hospice that Friday afternoon.

Despite a particularly rough & unconcerned (read 20 yrs Navy) ambulance crew chief, my darlin’ settled in, happy to be in such a comforting, loving, & beautiful setting. The intake nurse evaluated her, & filled me in on what I could expect, She said that there could be a significant & rapid decline in her condition within a couple of days, due to how she was presenting. I waved that off, telling her that my darlin’ had a really bad 24 hours before getting there, & that she would perk up once she rested & recovered from the trauma. I told her that I needed to visit with the social worker on Monday to begin evaluating skilled nursing facilities & making final arrangements, as I knew we could not stay there for long, just until her pain was under control. I was charging ahead at a full gallop when the nurse stopped me, put her hand on my knee, & said, “Mr. Hritz, at this point, we will take it 1 day at a time.”

They gave me a small booklet entitled “Gone From My Sight”, which compared death to a sailing ship nearing the horizon. As it passes out of view, we on the shore say “There she goes”: at the same time, folks on the other shore see the ship come into view & say, “Here she comes!” The booklet detailed the stages of death, & I began to check them off. She was on a morphine pump, & hallucinated all night; at one point she called to me, asking if all those people were really in the room: I told her that she & I were the only ones really there, but I knew she was in the company of loved ones that had gone before. By morning she had settled into a deep & snory sleep.

Blond Bombshell Daughter #3 visited along with her daughter & grandson. I took the opportunity to run home, tend our animals, grab some laundry & an Indian blanket she wanted. While I was gone, she had a surge of energy, telling BBD#3 that she did not know what was real & what was not, & that she thought she saw her granddaughter, who she indeed did see at her bedside. By the time I returned, she was asleep again. Family left, & I spent hours talking to my darlin’, playing my river cane Kiowa & our son’s cedar wolf Kiowa flute, playing Virgie Ravenhawk’s music, praying, thanking her for everything I could recall, praying & drumming in the Serenity Room, brushing her hair, warming her always-cold hands, & timing her breaths.

I called Blond Bombshell Daughter #4 late that night, driven by the Creator to contact her after 17 years of estrangement. She was very kind to me, & got to hear her mother’s voice. My darlin’s eyes were open almost constantly, but there was no recollection in them. I begged her to see me one last time – she could not. She did rally, taking 3 quick, deep breaths, & said “I love you, I love you, I love you…” I fell asleep at 12:30am, & again as staff tended to her comfort & showed me what to do for her. I rose at 6, grabbed a coffee, & settled in at her side again, timing breaths & watching her pulse. I asked the nurse how much of what she was doing was the morphine, which had been steadily increasing in dosage, & how much was her condition. She said very little was the morphine, that she was actively dying. I returned to her side, talking to her & watching her pulse & her breathing. I called Blond Bombshell Daughter #3 later that morning, & as I was holding her mother’s hand, I saw the pulse go away. I told BBD#3 what was going on, hung up & called the nurse. I noticed that her breathing had also stopped, & in the few moments before the nurse & doctor arrived, her face color changed, & I knew that my darlin’, my beloved pretty girl, my lady, my queen without a king, was gone. The nurse knew it as soon as she opened the door, & looked at me knowingly. I nodded, she checked for a pulse as the doctor distracted me, & they called her time of death at 10:49am, May 4, 2008.

The nurse hugged me, I cried with her for a while, & pointed to my beloved, saying, “That woman lying there is an amazing woman: she sang for a President at the White House, at Carnegie Hall, the ryman Auditorium, as backup for Hank Williams Sr., & she loved me for 36 years, which is the most amazing thing she did!” I closed her beautiful baby blue eyes & kissed her. They left me alone & I began to call our loved ones. They said we could keep her for up to 12 hours, the chaplain called & prayed with me, the social worker helped me contact funeral homes, & friends & family gathered to honor her & lift me up.

Praise the Creator that she is no longer in pain, or discomfort: she is a bright shining light in the presence of God: she does not need to walk now, for she can fly. She will live forever in glory, & I pray that I can live my life well enough to join her for eternity.

There were many moments of joy through this journey: I will detail them in a later post. Please forgive that I have not posted sooner.

Blessings & Light,
Michael

I Wish I Was a Robot!

I wish I was a Robot!
I really, really do!
I wish I was a Robot,
Held together by bolts & screws!

I’d be a big strong Robot!
I’d never trip or squirm!
I’d be a big strong Robot,
Never bothered by a germ!

I wish I was a Robot!
I never would be tired!
I wish I was a Robot,
It’s what I’ve long desired!

I’d be a handsome Robot!
No hair to watch fall out!
I’d be a handsome Robot,
Without a sneezy snout!

I wish I was a Robot!
A marvel of design!
I wish I was a Robot,
On electricity I’d dine!

I’d be a real hot Robot!
All shiny & all polished!
I’d be a real hot Robot,
Until I was demolished!

I wish I was a Robot!
There’d be nothing I couldn’t take!
I wish I was a Robot,
So my heart would never break!

Mists Continued: First Chapter - The Beginnings

The morning was unwelcome, when we set out across the vale to escape our wee valley.

The palaver went on beyond the wee hours, the discussion warming & waning as the ale dwindled & weighty decisions were made. Finally, ere the first gleam of dawn smiled upon the ebon sky, they were asleep with murmuring dreams, the rumblings of burdens taken up, & dire things to come.

Sleep did little to steel resolve - there was too much truth for such a thing. Still, I strove to stand my ground in the far corner, behind the glow of the paling embers, eyes wide & refusing rest as I struggled to understand what we must do, & to find within me the strength of conviction to know that I was capable of it.

Dawn was unwelcome, for my spirit was not yet convinced.

Under a foreboding sky, I stood, my morning cup of too-strong tea cooling in my hand, unattended. I looked out across this valley that had been my cradle, my swaddling cloak of green forest tucked deep between the snowy peaks, the slow river an unbroken sash of deeper green girding the whole of what had been my home. Had been: I grunted mirthlessly. Have I already abandoned hope of return?

I heard the massive oaken door creak open behind me, accented by a sharp draw of breath at the chill of the early morn. Lairik, my brother, stamped to my side in a cloud of warmth & steaming breath, his bison fur cloak slung haphazardly across his broad shoulders. “Mishka,” he grumbled, “up so early, yet I see your tea has gone cold: is this how you waste the fire?” I said nothing, but sipped the bitter brew to satisfy him.

“The others will be about soon – I do not wish to set out so late that we are caught too far from the pass at nightfall.” He paused, looking at me with a scowl. “you were quiet last night, and silent you are today-have you nothing to contribute?”

Truly, I wanted no conversings save my communing with my beloved homeland, in sooth for goodbyes & futile promises. For farewells & remembrances, for writing upon my memories the events of my 24 summers here, in this blessed place. Still, Lairik was not one to be denied, as my sibling & as my chieftan. With a rousing sigh, I turned to his scowl & smiled, “Unlike the council, I reserve my words for import.” “If I speak with no weight or meaning, they flutter aloft like lifting dews, useless, gone & forgotten more quickly than a wench’s glance.” His scowl deepened to glower; “Poets! Pfah! Of no consequence, like your mutterings. Come, let us break our fast, and join the trail. The day is leaving our grasp already!” We turned as brothers, his massive arm thumping onto my shoulder, & we strode back into the house, the smells of roasting bison & loon eggs wafting out.

Writing an Ongoing Story from the Middle - Mists...

This is a scene I wrote, which I envisioned as the promo excerpt for a longer story. I plan to complete the story as it arrives within my spirit...

We strode thru morning misted fields without a destination, the sky reflecting nothing of the grassy moors beneath. 'Twas if the clouds were pressing down, entreating "Stay. Stay & rest, for the noontide will ye soon welcome". My heart well bade me linger, and stroll in leisure among the quiet. Yet on we strode, our boots running with the dews, our eyes intent upon the ground, for there was naught to see before them. There were no other sounds but the sighs of our steps wading thru the low grasses, & the dull tamp of our staffs upon the ground. And above these drifting vapored banks there rose… the oak.
Beneath its’ ancient limbs, the mists parted. It’s dappling shade was somehow clearer than the mists, which slid about it as if wafted by zephyrs we could not discern. A steady, light rain fell from the branches, and cold pools sat among the roots, which were topped with emerald mosses.
We are here, I thought. After all this, we are here.

First chapter: The Beginnings

Free Stickers? What Could Be Cooler?

The handmade community at Etsy.com is diverse to the extreme. So many different styles & types of items, so many sellers crafting fun & funky & fantastic pieces of art or jewelry or pottery or paintings - you get the idea! So it was with a grin-enducing "Yeah, that doesn't surprise ME!" that I came across a deal from an Etsy seller named "Moopf" (which I thought was the sound I make when I carry too many grocery bags thru the lodge door at once).

The MoopfSter is offering Free Stickers, which he prints in myriad colors & designs. He even includes shipping (but not duties or customs, which should be negligible: hey, htey're STICKERS, right?). So go get your Moopf on at http://www.moopf.com/etsy/freestickers/, & get Moopfsterized today!

After your sticker procurement is complete, check out the rest of the Etsy universe, including my little shop, WolfLodge.etsy.com. I KNOW you will be an Estsyan for life!

Why I weep for America - The Battle Joined

Many years ago now, I reconnected with a buddy that I had not seen for several years, & he was transformed from a hard-drinking, violent man into a shining, happy person. Since then, he went on to become a minister. He told me that he resisted the calling for a few years, then gave in. When I asked him what had precipitated the change, he said that God had told him that the US would be the site of the final battle with the Dark One, & he felt an overwhelming need to help the youth of America prepare for spiritual battle.

Within 6 months, I had also reconnected with my bio-brother after a few years ignoring each other. He was transformed into a shining, happy person. When I asked him what had precipitated the change, he said that God had told him that the US would be the site of the final battle with the Dark One, & he felt an overwhelming need to help the youth of America prepare for spiritual battle.

These 2 guys never met, in fact they lived 800+ miles apart, but their stories & their reasons for change were identical. That battle is ramping up in this America. though I have faith regarding the outcome, I weep for the road we shall travel, and for those who are lost, and those who shall be lost.

Why do I weep for America II - the Dream Train

I weep for lost possibilities. I weep because I have seen the mighty train of the path of this Great American Dream overloaded, its' once-unstoppable firebox now caked with the soot & cinder of untamed consumption & greed & entitlement; its' boiler thinned & warped by the overheated fires of disregard for tomorrow's consequences; its' brakes ground past their purpose as no one will stop to say, "This is enough! This is not right! This must not continue!"

It's once-proud whistle is now a mournful wail; and the rails upon which it rolls are weakened, & crooked, & rusted with corruption & lack of care - too many switches, too many turns, too-few straight stretches of track. This Great American Dream Train once excelled at pulling all loads up the steepest grades of the needs of the world: "I Know we can, I KNOW we can, I KNOW WE CAN!" Now, we have crested the final hill of potentiality, & are hurtling down the mountain into the valleys of despair.

Hank Williams Sr. wrote a song for my StepDad, & it echoes in my ears: "The midnight train, is whinin' low: I'm so lonesome I could cry..."

Why do I weep for America?

My friends, I am nearly overcome. I feel today as if my beloved USA is slipping away, & my hands are not strong enough to hold on to it. To quote the Rock Biter from Never Ending Story, "They look like good, strong hands, don't they?" That's what I always thought they were - good, strong, artistic hands. Sadly, I have been proven wrong, so many times. Like the Biter, I cannot hold onto Nothing.

My vision of the US (heretofore arbitrarily referred to as 'America') was of a wondrous place where the only bounds were those of possibility; where the fact of my "Difference" was to be celebrated within the bounds of inclusion. An America where all that was needed was the will, the energy, the verve & determination, because nothing else would be put in your way.

My grandfathers slaved in coal mines & paid the price with their broken bodies & destroyed lungs. Thru it all, they loved this America & supported it proudly. Two sons served under our flag - one was never the same after Korea. Still, Grandpap knew the price of freedom.

When my sister died in Egypt, her husband, a Saudi pilot, was devastated. We lost track of him until Desert Storm, when he was interviewed by CNN on the tarmac: his quote, with tears running down his cheeks, "Gentlemen, all I can tell you is God Bless the United States of America!" Abdullah knew the price of freedom.

My late Cajun buddy Jack served in Vietnam, & suffered from the effects of Agent Orange exposure. Jack knew the price of freedom.

I do not advocate blind allegiance - Grandpap made that clear when we discussed the possibility that I would be drafted. You can be loyal to your country without sacrificing your right to disagree or dissent where appropriate.

My darlin' wife can look at me & say, "Your hands hurt, don't they." I cry the tears of the Rock Biter, staring at them, knowing I am not strong enough.