Driving That Train…or Vacation!

Driving that train…

No. Not the Casey Jones’ song as I wasn’t driving any train and LORD truly knows I don’t do cocaine!!

But…

I was on a train, an Amtrak train.

Rolling, rolling, rolling up to Massachusetts to Arlington.

To be exact en route to visit my niece, my adopted niece who I consider family as my mom considered her to be.

It’s all good…

It has been a while and let’s be transparent and say years since I had a vacation. My vacay buddy, mom (who will forever be 91 years) could no longer travel and I decided to stay close to home near her. Mind you, she didn’t agree with my decision but felt comforted knowing I was just upstairs.61060119_10219548377085814_932831570585190400_n

But onto traveling for the first time in so long.

As I mentioned before, I was on an Amtrak train, not driving but here’s a look at what a driver might have seen:

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For the longest time I planned to visit my niece and mom’s upcoming birthday, oh better yet, first birthday without her here on earth, seemed appropriate enough, to get on that train.

And I did…

Rolling, rolling, rolling.

Amtrak rocked and cradled my bod as green trees and concrete buildings passed by the window. 200.gif

Leaving NYC…

so exciting, when the mind is in the present.

Returning NYC…

not exciting when the mind is in the present.

Ease of transportation had avoided my niece for a while, regulating her to trains and buses. Luckily, she inherited her mom’s used Toyota Yaris!

So, she drove…

and refused to let me drive through turn arounds, round abouts’ or whatever you wanna call them.

All good because…

on Mom’s birthday we drove.

We drove to Gloucester and walked along the cold sandy grey beach with dark clouds floating over our heads. The cold sand massaged my feet and grounded my soul.IMG_0814.jpg

So needed…

with grieving and missing you.IMG_0822.JPG

 

 

 

 

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The Fisherman’s Memorial, the picture I took of the names of the fisherman lost at sea and portrayed in the movie; ‘The Perfect Storm’ stirred in mi alma.
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The families of those men and myself share the final ending of knowing a loved one will not be returning.

At Lexington, I learned more about the Revolutionary War than I cared to absorb but…IMG_0840.jpg

I was grateful to have the history told to us by a volunteer dressed in clothing of the time. IMG_0833.jpg

Harvard, yes, we went there.

Although the trip wasn’t to visit the photography archives of the United Fruit Company, a research project I was so into while aiming for my Masters, being on campus was a reminder of what is still attainable, still researchable.

We stopped at a GAP where I bought ‘boyfriend Chino pants’ and argued with my niece because…well that’s what we do and we do it well.

Vegan Galaxy?!!!!

Best Vegan joint I’ve eaten at. The place makes their own vegan burger which just may surpass Impossible Burger.

Along our driving we ventured to the quarry at Halibut Point. At that point I was tired and wanted to get the cake mom always had at our birthdays.IMG_0825.jpg

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We drove to Woodman’s and ordered two slices of Strawberry Shortcake which was mom’s favourite cake to have on our birthdays.

Once we arrived at my niece’s apartment we broke out the cake and I must say it was the best Strawberry Shortcake I ever, ever, ever, ever…

had.

Thank you, mom for I feel you had a hand in this day, your birthday and making sure I enjoyed it to the fullest with my niece, who you accepted as family.

Happy Birthday Mom, my mom!

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling…no. Running, Wobbling, Running…

Marathon #2 sits on the horizon and, god willingGod Willing I’ll cross that line again.

Marathon #1 was an all-out disaster that almost didn’t happen due to my mom’s illness but did happen due to my mom’s illness and her unrelenting push for me to train.

I trained through, tears, stress, worry and crossed the line many times arguing with incompetent doctors who destroyed my mom’s will to live and her health

And,

I finally crossed THAT LINE at the end of the marathon which my mom did not live to see.

-Actually, she did see, for she was on the corner of Sackett Street and Fourth Avenue, just not in this realm and as I woggled towards that street, I stopped, crossed myself and bowed for the Queen.

So,

back to Marathon #2 in which training has not officially begun but I’ve started anyway because well, I have nothing better to do than pound my knees via my feet kissing asphalt, concrete and dirt trails.

Love the trails, love my feet, love my knees, hate the dirt.IMG_0758.jpg

And at least I’m not kissing someone’s ass

So,

I’ll tie up the laces tomorrow, that are tied already, just need to slip on the sneaker.

-(I’ll set the garmin, set the interval timer, wear the running glasses that get dark in the sun, put on the Panache Bra, set up the Spotify, put on the lip balm, make the Nunn for the water bottle, separate Tara-Habby from the treacherous cat posse  (worse than the Sharks but just like the Jets) out to dethrone the Queen ( not me this time)  and ultimately sit on the throne (corner of my bed).)

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The Green Throne

And hit the road…not like Jack in Ray’s song for

I’ll be coming back, god willing.

 

Tired, not sick and tired…just tired.

I am getting to the point where retirement is looking damn so good so good

But…

Don’t have that Big Fat Retirement pension coming my way,

(that’s what happens when you move from job to job)

as it’s always been hard to stay at one job for too long.

(you say that now, but that’s not what you thought while you were moving about)

I get bored, not because I’m boring but spending 35-40 hours a week with some co workers you’d never hang out with on your day off is boring.

(having your own business for 15 years can do that to you)

And there are those with positions of power who wave their condescending and micromanaging wands of glory directed towards Image result for people stifling your creativity

(I treated my assistants with respect and appreciation and was in awe I could hire them)

bursting a tiny bubble, well actually Big Bubbles of ideas and hopes and inspirations,

(creative people are a bit off their rockers and can get carried away with ideas…)

into shards of Papyrus paper needed for input into the databases of an excel spreadsheet that personifies an aged metal filing cabinet that

Image result for people stifling your creativity(pushing papers is basically water torture to those who have so much more to give)

is bent on being resistant to assault and fondling,

(as the creativity dies instead of glowing and rising through adversity)

I give up and give in. Nothing left to prove. The only proof needed to verify the my gifts earned through life is the proof HE and I alone share.

(Peace out to those who love being obstacles in another’s path. Your insecurities will eventually rot out your core.) Image result for people stifling your creativity

***images courtesy of the WWW, just because…

The Power of goodbye or …goodbye, pretty damn much the final curtain call

Grief is lingering and continues to show its fangs when least expected.

I wish I could just stay home from work for a month, get things in order and come to terms with dealing with the new normal grief has chosen to give to me as a present san bows and glitter.

A new normal I didn’t seek. 

But…

Work is work and dictates the attendance of 35 hours a week to maintain insurance benefits along with the coveted vacation accrued hours.

Well…

Grief

is here and not going anywhere too soon.

I think it’s going to stick around until the day I draw my last breath

Hopefully seeing the dead of family past at my bedside ready to welcome me into another realm will make that last breath worth its’ draw.

But…

Related imageIn the meantime, I’ll listen to music to numb the silence.

“Pain is a warning that something’s wrong

I pray to God that it won’t be long”

 -It will forever be long for pain has no expiration date, no renewal before expiration fees, no put it on a payment plan and go

Nothing…

“There’s nothing left to try

There’s no place left to hide” 

-What is there to try? I’ve cried and cried to block away the reality of goodbye and I’ve tried to hide behind substances legal or not to no avail

There’s nothing left to lose

There’s no more heart to bruise. 

– Heck I get to leave all that busy no nonsense stuff behind because what I’ve lost can never be replaced or substituted. Pi-Patel took my heart, Toby and Marge took mi alma.

Related image

There’s no greater power

Than the power of goodby

-The power of goodbye is accepting the finality of a goodbye. A goodbye so final it leaves a void of blackness after those words leave your lips

I loved so deeply three souls that made getting up each day worthwhile… so difficult to go to bed at night knowing you won’t be there in the morning

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I love you Butterfly

I love you boys

https://youtu.be/NHydngA5C4E

***images borrowed from the web –I adore the artist Avogado6  who captures my raw emotions

Serenity prayer or…feel so different

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference

Every morning I wake up with a broken heart and every night as I lay my head down on my mom’s pillow I try to keep the broken pieces from traveling far.

You are gone and it’s not even a question of accepting that reality but trying to adjust to a new reality that no longer includes you, my best friend and my mother.mom 2

October 7th, should have been a normal Sunday with you getting ready for church, asking me if I’d go and gathering your dollars for the plate collection.

Instead…

on October 7th, I woke at 2:15am and did not hear your breath with the oxygen machine.

I got up…

turned on the light and saw the look of vacancy on your face even though your eyes were closed.

I knew…

you were gone.

I felt your forehead which was warm to touch and my hand traveled to your back which was cold. I reached for my stethoscope and placed it on the honey coloured skin on top of your heart.Mom 1

No sound, no breath, an empty shell void of the pulse of life it once contained.

At first, I was relieved.

The previous day, as I held your hand, I begged you to go, to let go of the body that so betrayed you. To let go of the organs slowly shutting down. To let go of the month of starvation your body endured. To let go of the dependency on the morphine I resented giving you for I knew each dose sent you further into oblivion and I so badly wanted to see you smile at me with eyes that saw me and not death.

It is almost six months since you’ve gone.

The morphine and the Percocet sit in my medicine cabinet.

Sundays are bad and I always hold the vials in my hand contemplating, while being angry at you for not taking me with you. Each Sunday that passes the urge to take them diminishes.

You so loved life and I’m trying so hard to learn to love and dwell in it as you often wished I would.

 

Continue on…

I have no choice, trudging through trying to find the new ‘normal’ while desperately holding on to what was, knowing the was, is in the past and no longer has a place in the present.mom3

I so miss you mom, my butterfly and my best friend. You are at peace, flying through another dimension. I pray you will be there, when it’s my time, to welcome me into your world as you welcomed me into this world.

I love you.

Making my way back to …

Slowly, surely. Making my way back. So much to write. So much to ponder and cry over.

But…

Making my way back…

Acceptance and Resignation, stronger than a hammer but not weaker than the nail or…Sometimes they come back.

Mom, my mom, would often quote a verse to me during my moments of frustration intolerance with life not going according to my plan.

“Accept the things you cannot change…”412

Oh lordy how those words bugged the crap out of me.

This is MY life, MY destiny, MY footprint on existing, MY, MY, and definitely MY!

I refused to accept, concede to, acknowledge or resign to her advice. Everything, absolutely everything can be changed with perseverance, determination and straight up ghetto refusal.

Naw man. Everything.

I have the power and ability to change, the perseverance to guide and shape while steering the helm of the wheel, the sole master of my world.

This is MY life, MY destiny, MY footprint on existing, MY, MY, and definitely MY!

Well…

HIM, yes, the one Noah built an ark for, the same one Moses climbed the mountain for and also the one whom Mary became pregnant for, put me in my place, disrupted my inner peace, laid down the law and let me know destiny belongs to no one but HIM.The Habby and the Mommy

Pancreatic cancer latched on to my mom and won’t let go.

 Like a soft whisper, a gentle wind caressing a cheek,

A touch of cotton soaked in cold witch hazel against the face on a hot summer day,

Ice cream in a cone, silky like velvet, on the tongue

Satisfying that sweet tooth…

Pancreatic cancer latched on to my mom and won’t let go.

I’ve cried the same thousand tears that bent my lashes inward when I cried for Pi Patel.

Pi Patel passed into shadow…suddenly. No whisper no warning. No ice cream or witch hazel on a hot summer day.   imagejpeg_2 (3)

My mom is dying…

slowly in front of my being that longs to have her like I did back in the day when I was a baby and she was my mother taking care of me and working so hard to support a family that society deemed should be supported by a man but family’s man had long gone back to his country to find solace, peace and acceptance that didn’t exist  in the new world he hoped to call home.

Enough.

Love my dad but this isn’t about him.

It’s about my mom

She thought at first it was a return of the stage 4 colon cancer of the past, because sometimes they come back.  The boys and mom 019

Which it did.

In another form, in another place

where it intends to stay

till death do us part.

Mom ACCEPTS the cancer.

Mom ACCEPTS the diagnosis.

Mom ACCEPTS

And RESIGNS to let what will be, be.

And I resign to accept there are things that cannot be changed.

I so love you mom, my mom!      CCI05102014_0000

005       30

SELF…ish.

Self-discipline  IMG_2564

-the ability to control one’s feelings and overcome one’s weaknesses; the ability to pursue what one thinks is right despittemptations to abandon it.

Yeah right.

Been trying to be ‘self-discipline’ for over 50 years and all I’m reaping with that discipline is sabotage of the self

Self-worthIMG_2559

-another term for self-esteem

Yeah right.

Taking a job that does not reward demanding work, excess hours spent completing projects and scrimps on overtime and still working there? Yep-that’s exactly why I make the yearly salary I do. Ups and downs of life living with depression can take a toll on self-worth leaving it defenseless against soul sucking predators who are everywhere, in every field.

 But…

running with a group, racing for my own personal gain can seriously stimulate that old self-worth and lord help the mofo who tries to mess with my self-worth when it’s fueled by natural endorphins. Yep.  You can mess with my salary but not my head.

Self-determination

 -absorbed in one’s own thoughts, activities or interest

Yeah right.

I’m so absorbed in my own thoughts, activities and interest that an impenetrable wall somehow was built around my heart without any funding or government interference. The joke was truly on me without my knowledge or participation.

 Self-Assured

confident on one’s own abilities or character

 Yeah right.

I was so self-assured on accepting a job that started me at 31k. Then realized how the scam management team operated and requested an increase to 37k. The work load increased and the only salary increases were to everyone else’s except mine.

Wowza.

Self-ishIMG_2562

-lacking consideration for others; concerned chiefly with one’s own personal profit or pleasure

Yeah right.

Selfish is looking pretty good right now. Time to reel in the empathy and substitute it with apathy and concentrate on what matters most: me, myself and I.

Guess what?

Ain’t gonna happen.IMG_2560

The me, myself and I cares too deeply for the sentient beings who have no voice, are seen but not heard, are invisible until the rain falls and…

(So sorry,

this does not include the mosquitos.)

Those opportunist mini drones who thrive on the sucking and stealing blood from those who have not given consent or signed a waiver steer me towards…

Being.IMG_2558

 SELF-ISH.

Tobias Walsh…Toby.

Tobias…

Tobias, Toba, Tub of lard, Mr. Tobes, Mr. T, Tobester, Tobadia, Mr Tobadia.

Toby, for me

YOU will always be…just Toby. 1440421056303 (2016-11-02T19_58_20.842)

I want to write down the words that tell my feelings about

YOU.

But…

When I think of

USTED, I get all mamba jamba boogied up tight lip and my chest hurts, missing your bunny hopping days through Ppark.

The pain is so real and so there…as

TÚ is no longer here, and neither is Pi and I long to touch and smell

USTED as I do him.

Although, stink, Pi did, as did

YOU, and it did not matter because being all mine, all the time, unconditionally, lovingly far surpassed the dirty dog, musty stink after swimming at the doggy beach in Ppark brought into the house.

USTED passed into shadow on Monday evening, October 9, 2017, licking peanut butter from my finger as Propofol made its way through the vein that would eventually connect with other veins on a path to your heart-unstoppable as your personality and love was.

TÚ paused in the peanut butter licking, confused somewhat and before I could acknowledge what was taking place, the ER vet plunged Euthasol into that same vein, which stopped, and ended the pumping of your sweet heart that held mi alma intact and made me realize that yes,

YOU and your love were stoppable.IMG_2112

Pi took my heart…

TÚ my dear first fur baby, the oldest of the pack, took my soul (mi alma).

Beat on…run on…free at last from the arthritis, the crippling of the joints, the senioritis which left you at times confused looking for our house on return walks the sometimes incontinence, the sometimes-foggy vision, free at last, thank HIM almighty you are free.

Gracias me perrito  que vivir en mi vida por catorce años.

Gracias for choosing me.

I want to say to

YOU all that wasn’t said while this earth was lucky to have your soul in its presence, it’s concrete jungle, pseudo Ppark in the woods landscape with me by your side. Gracias a

TÚ for finding and choosing me to spend time in your life. Pi was not part of

the package, pero

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USTED accepted him or better yet, tolerated him on your own terms.

The residents at the now defunct Bishop Hulces nursing home would also join in this thanks to

YOU, the certified therapy dog who strutted through the dementia ward bringing the gift of words to those who would not normally speak. 1094724054094 (2016-11-02T19_58_16.355)

USTED, my sweet baby boy would allow the locked words to flow in their gibberish, unstoppable, accepted and not challenged or corrected way.

I remember the young teenage girl who was placed in the nursing home due to her disability of severed legs sacrificed from her attempted suicide gone wrong pact with an MTA train. Mother and father were at her bedside during our visits and the tension and awkwardness were too real to ignore. They spoke no English and who knows what if they knew what to make of you grizzly Adams appearance.

YOU jumped on me, and unto her bed, snuggled up to a hip that no longer had an extension.  She in turn was happy to pet your fur which brought forth a smile easing the tensions from the parents who now mirar a

USTED at what I perceived to be respect and admiration. The visits to her room always brought out the best in the soul that resided en

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LOVE

TÚ and el alma that took my own away.

Bereavement is not so acceptable when it comes to fur babies because for many they are insignificant, easily discarded as the wrapper on a wad of gum. Going into shadow is as irrelevant as swatting a mosquito of an arm.

But guess what…

For me not having

YOU, the job of life can be done but trust me, it will be half assed done, for your unconditional no judgement love does not await me when I return home and I’m left with no defense to put the day’s sucking vampires behind me.

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I go to work, forced to converse in conversations when I’d rather be home licking my wounds and thinking of you. Grieving for your lil bro was much easier-I was unemployed. 580

To pick up your ashes, I must return to the place your last breath was drawn and I will bring

 

YOU home.IMG_2164

Which is where you are now, my sweet Toby boy.

 

 

 

 

 

** TÚ, USTED = You.  Mirar=look. Gracias a tú=thanks to you. en= in. pero=but. Gracias me perrito  que vivir en mi vida por catorce años=Thank you my doggy who lived in my life for 14 years.

Dignified Toby-001img_0555roomies-220140916_113709

 

Pieces…Bits and Pieces or WHEN

How quickly the quality of life changes from normal to abnormal

WHEN…

You shaved under your arms with a dull razor two days ago and now two days later your pits are burning

WHEN…

You apply aloe vera to the burning pits, feeling relief until you feel, the LUMPS

WHEN…

Survival mode kicks in, and you’ve been through this before with your mom and know the deal-time is of the essence, so they say, but when it’s happening to you, time goes on fast forward with you driving the train with a clutch when you only know how to drive automatic

WHEN…

Through the layers of receptionists at the doctor’s office and strategically planning, you finally get the receptionist who is willing to help you get that next day appointment

WHEN…

You go through a mammogram diagnostic (you don’t wanna know the details) and ultrasound on the day of your mother’s birth and you keep it on the down low, because your mom is 90 and can’t deal with the possibility of her daughter  being diagnosed with breast cancer, most especially when your mom went through the kidney bean episode  with her sister who died from it.

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WHEN…

You realize how YOU are the THREAD that holds your precious family (mom and fur babies) together and don’t have any provisions or alternative plans for them to follow if YOU should GO before THEM

WHEN…

The diagnosis is normal.

Nothing’s wrong.

No lumps.

Enlarged lymph nodes due to shaving.

And…

the doctor looks at you as if you have three heads but you could care less because being hysterically pro active when cancer runs in the family is far better than sitting back and wishing the lumps would magically disappear  overnight.

How quickly our quality of life changes from abnormal back to normal.

…Bye Felicia Razors…
Hello Nair!