Good Morning Mourning!

"Good morning! Good morning! It's great to stay up late...good morning, good morning, to you!"

I've certainly been staying up late these past 9 months since my mom passed away.  At first, binge watching ER, sitting in the warm California eves, and several days, seeing the sun come up.  Maybe even crying to the hymns we sang at my mom's funeral.

The nice thing about ER is my mom loved Dr. Ross and it was fun to see the series play out.  It's really a great show, and everyone on it dies all the time.  Every time someone was tubed, or their heart and lungs failed, sepsis, they got a trach, it poked at the sore spot of what my mom went through, but also numbed the sore spot.  

I've always been a night owl...and over the past year haven't been able to fall asleep until 3 a, 4a, etc.

And then my mom started to come to me in the late morning...in my dreams. So, I needed to be sleeping for that.

I tried to interview for advertising jobs right after I got back from my mom's death...but I cried during most of them.  I may have been crying because of the job, though, in all fairness.

So, I slept a lot, watched a lot of tv, and did what I could for money.  (That sounds like I did something illegal--what I mean, is my amazing friend Brad hired me to do a bunch of writing for his website.  While I am positive sex trade, etc, I don't think I could have found the energy to put on mascara).   I accepted less social invites and when I did, tried my best to not cry at parties.  That's hard.  It continues to be hard.  I felt so vulnerable, wounded, angry and alone and everything seemed really silly.  I'd try to laugh and giggle and play along, but mostly, I wanted to cry at parties. That's gotten better.  Thank GOD. 

I even went on a game show to try to get rent money!  Those game show producers loved making me cry in my "package" and I scored pretty well, but I walked away with only a check of $200 per diem. I did try to submit expenses for parking, but they wouldn't cover that.  

You can hear more about Mental Samurai here:

https://anchor.fm/chris-yeh-podcast/episodes/Mental-Samurai-Premiere-Extra-interviews-with-Jorden-Halvorsen-and-Becky-Eldridge-e3jv4b/a-aciqs2?fbclid=IwAR1Rk87sIp7R5yN-RQDAvwqUCjmgi7H70DQ705V5ftbENLMnUI8w6JFLXJY

At the end of the podcast, the host and fellow contestant and all-around charmer, Chris Yeh asks "Where can we find you out in the world? Upcoming shows, etc" I chuckled because there has been no putting myself out in the world for a long time.  I barely blog, I never perform and I spend my weekends holed up on my patio.  

And I haven't needed an alarm clock for a while...I could schedule myself to work from home how I needed, and my dog Pickle, happily obliged. In fact, it's 245 p right now, and she's been sleeping all morning.  I mean, all day.  It's past morning:)

In this dead mom/dad/sibling/spouse/child club that we all never wanted to join, I also realized how awful it must have been for others and wish I would have helped.  Looking back at the impact of close friends losing their parents, etc and I had no idea how painful it was for them.  Now I do. I hope I can be helpful as others helped me.

Anyway, today it occurred to me, at this mark, 10 months since my mother passed away, that I may be coming out of mourning.  Like, old-fashioned, Victorian mourning.  And that's kind of FUN!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mourning

Queen Vicky set the standard for western mourning when her Prince Albert died in 1861, and the Antebellum South sucked up that idea (I like to pretend I know something about history sometimes, #directbrag).  Wear black, wear a veil, reduce social engagements, make a memorial pendant or brooch out of that person's hair, have your servants wear a black mourning band, have some deep reflection.  Well, here's what I've done:

• I've been wearing a lot of black---check! (Mostly stretchy cheap Champion yoga pants, and a cozy puffer/fleece number with very good pockets, and my black reeboks from Costco)
• I've been praying to a little altar I made to my mom---check! (She was out of hair because of the chemo, so no hair to make a piece of jewelry out of.  But, her hair was her crowning glory, so I'm sure if I dug around back at my parent's house, I could find some.)
• I've reduced my social activities and experienced an intense amount of naval gazing---check!
• I haven't worn mascara since my mom was sick.  (I hate it anyway, makes your lashes look like crazy spiders that only a Kardashian could love)
• I've always loved my curls and have been doing very little to modify them from their natural state (though my mom wins, hands down, any curl competition. Her's were amazing!)

https://www.sparknotes.com/biography/victoria/section5/

Today feels like, it's enough.  For now.  I'm done with my Annus Horribilis (shout out to QE II)...https://www.royal.uk/annus-horribilis-speech

I filed my 2018 taxes, I shed my funeral garb and chilled out today on my day off.

I'll never throw out my black clothes...but I'm finding myself more and more able to go out in the world.

I'm not at my old fighting capacity by any means...but that's ok.  I used to have so much more energy and charm.  Enthusiasm.  But, loss changes you...and I am open to see how these changes play out.

Mostly, I'm wearing my tattered pink hoody a bit more.  My mom had a very similar hoody, bright pink, and it felt like mother/daughter outfits when we wore them. Hers, of course, was much cuter with a ruffled trim and didn't have tears in the sleeves and coffee stains.   I couldn't wear it for a while, but it's in the rotation.

I'm tending my little plants, keeping up with the housekeeping a bit more, cooking mom-inspired meals (Corned Beef and Cabbage, Kielbasa and Sauerkraut with potatoes, Chips and Dip), and actually hosted a party (For my big game show premiere! I had to tidy up and everything!).  I started working outside of the house (I now use an alarm clock and haul my ass to work by 9a!) and even tried to go on a bumble date with a fellow bookworm (No sparks, nice guy, hates his mother so hard pass there).

So, good morning mourning!  I'm moving on.  A bit.  

(Pickle, my only servant (so far!), continues to wear black because that's the color of the fur on her back. But, she's living her best LA life and rolls in the grass almost every day!)

Butterflies!

My sister Kitty saw them first---outside of work.  She told me her colleague looked it up--monarch butterflies are a sign of someone coming from the other side to say "hey man, it's cool, I'm cool, you are cool"
So, I was worried about my birthday.  I told my dad to pick out a really good card like mom used to do, and I planned a really easy breezy brunch, hang by the pool, easy dinner with Andy and John, movie.

Dad sent the card, I got some nice gifts in the mail, a bunch of facebook notes I couldn't quite respond to.  And then, the day before, I was walking with pickle, where I always walk her, and there it was: a monarch.  Crossing my path, flitting above and telling me it was cool.  I cried and cried and then went home and chilled.

It's been a rough month--Andy got cancer, and he's going to be ok.  It's a new year, and it's not the same cancer as my mom's.  It's going to be ok.  Some day.

Thanksgiving

Big surprise---lots of EMOTIONS around this holiday!

Last year was a really good Eldridge Thanksgiving---everyone was home in Ohio, and we even had a special guest star in my friend Kristin.  At that point, mom had been diagnosed but not started chemo (I think?  It doesn't really matter--but anyway).

I can remember the specifics of Thanksgiving 2017 really well---as Kris came in, and we watched the Macy's Parade and the dog show, like we always do.  We had Bailey's in our coffee, and the house smelled amazing as the turkey roasted and we lounged and visited on the couches in the living room.

(Was Pickle there?  My dad had banned her...so maybe she was back in Chicago?)

My mom had a few traditions for thanksgiving--including, if you smacked the turkey in it's bag, and said "Smack Smack" she'd holler back with a "Gobble Gobble". I loved coming home, and on Wednesday eve, sitting in the kitchen, or helping to bring in the tables from the sunroom, finding and adding in extra table leaves, pulling chairs from anywhere to accommodate everyone, deciding if we need a third table or not.

She would get hilariously stressed out--counting out the chairs, and then re-counting.  Last year we had the biggest one yet--maybe 31?  I can't recall...but 31 would make sense.

In no way did we expect that it would be our last thanksgiving with mom.  In fact, it felt a bit like a celebration--as the diagnosis was so positive (Hodgkins instead of the much more serious Lung Cancer diagnosis we were bracing for).

My mom wore an adorable Autumnal flannel shirt---the picture we used for her obit came from that day.

Another tradition:  my mom would take the whipped cream cans, and the grandkids would tilt their heads back like little birds, and she'd nozzle some whipped cream into their mouths.  She used to do that with us, too.

And I loved to sit on the kitchen floor, with my back to the humming dishwasher, smelling pumpkin pies and the dishwashing

I wish I was in Ohio this year---but decided to not come home.  It's a big expense, and even if Mom hadn't passed, I had already decided to spend it here.

In fact, prior to mom passing, I had planned to host an "Orphan" thanksgiving.  So, that's what I'm doing this year. And it may end up being just me for most of the day---and that's fine.

There's been so many wonderful surprises in the last week. I went on an amazing bike ride with Bart on Sunday.  On Monday, I went to Aldi (my happy place) and played volleyball and got SUPER mad at the guys for ball hogging and not setting up the girls to spike.  But I had a ball.

Yesterday, Tuesday, was an emotional day but I called my dad, talked to Kitty about defrosting the Turkey and last year, and we talked ourselves off the ledge a bit, I think.  And then, I ran into a bunch of neighbors--and as much as I was certain I'd feel miserable all week---little bursts of sunshine came my way. Pickle rolled in the grass like a fool, another neighbor complimented my bike, another and I bonded over our losses (her sister) and she shared that she cooks for everyone, delivers meals and then chills out.  A good strategy!  I picked up a special pie for Andy, baked sweet potatoes, made the cranberry sauce, prepped the veggies for roasting, the bacon for 7-layer salad and am all ready for tomorrow.

I'm planning to "call in" for the family blessing/prayer and will get to see everyone on the day of.

I'll be watching the WGN parade with Lis, via Skype or Texting, head to Andy and John's for morning mimosas, Skype with Tim and John, and sit on the kitchen floor, petting the puppies while the dishwasher runs.

Diary of a distracted individual

I just returned from Sundance, in lovely Park City Utah.
It's Monday, I've got coffee, defrosted pork meat, a slightly hungry belly and a few hours of work I need to do.

Here's what my brain is thinking of instead:
I need to return some phone calls before I lose friendships
I should check on Dad in Florida and make sure he didn't have a heart attack
I hope Dad doesn't die like Mom did.  That seriously was the worst thing I've ever dealt with in my life
I miss Mom so much, I should probably have a good cry about her.  Also, am I ignoring my pain?
The holidays weren't as tough as I thought they would be without her
I bet next year will be hard. I should probably journal about that
Oh wait, I did cry super hard during the documentary about David Crosby, when he showed Cameron Crowe the "Our House" house.  We played the song "Our House" for my mom when she was essentially in her coma.  OK, I'm probably going to cry now.
I need to get toilet paper and coffee creamer and kleenex
I should workout today. Run? Hike?  Treadmill? 
Why does my dog walk away from me after I pet her for 3 minutes?
Andy is right, my dog is a weirdo
I should get on those job leads
I need to update my resume
Why doesn't word on my macbook let me change the bullet points on my resume? 
England has some lovely secret historic homes to rent
I need to clean the floors
I need to re-hang these curtain rods.  But it's a JOB
I need to get my California Drivers License
I really need to work
Maybe I'll take a nap today?
I use mason jars as storage for perishable food in the frig. Is that unhealthy?
I wish I had some avocado
The most exciting thing in my life is my new air fryer.
I need to go work
Right after I try to love on my dog, again

Phew, that's over with!

I had my birthday and deliberately made it LOW KEY.  I didn't want to feel like crying in public, so I organized a brunch, hung at the pool, and then a low key movie and dinner out.

I MADE it through!

And, now, 3 weeks later, I've finally arrived at a Sunday and I don't feel like a total sack of sadness.

I have this to-do list, and it's major major major stuff.  Like, my phone isn't working--so maybe get a new one?  My Prius headlight isn't working--so get that repaired?  I need to find and go to the dentist.  I need to take and pass my drivers license test.  I need to get a bike rack on my new-to-me used bike.  I need to find a job.  I need to re-hang my big ass tv. I need to hang pictures and finish unpacking. I need to meditate. I need to socialize more or less, depending on the time of day.  I need to sleep better. I need to workout. I need to get Pickle to the cardiologist or she might die.  I need to start sending more postcards and birthday cards. I need to register to vote. I need to do my budget. I need to find a job. I need to write more, read more, watch tv more.

And, I'm heading home to Elyria in a few weeks to chip in with the process of cleaning out my mother's stuff.  So, that's sort of like a great big lurking shadow.

So, this is all weighing on my brain.  Spiraling when I get anxious.  I have to-do lists in every room of my apartment.

But, then, this week, I went to the oncologist with Andy.  He's been dealing with his own cancer diagnosis, and for the most part, I've been with him at the surgery, and all the appointments except one meeting.  This was the first meeting with an oncologist (as opposed to the urologist), so we walked into a hematology/oncology service.  There were directional sign stickers on the floor, and we both laughed and stood exactly where it told us to.  I love following directions!  And then, in comes an older gentleman, on a cane, with his younger cancer companion (I assumed it was his daughter).  She had a boot cast, and the two of them were hot and bothered from the heat, and I told them they were a matched set (he on cane, her on boot).

And then, I remembered going to my mom's chemo appointment (I only went to one, she had 12) and how friendly she was, and how she'd be kind, nice, and put on her big smile.  And I thought of everyone around me, including my dear, sweetest, like a brother to me best friend Andy, and how it was sad, and some of these people won't make it, and maybe, like my mom, they'll beat the cancer but the treatment will kill them.  And I decided not to cry, but to yuck it up with Andy.

We got in the room with the doc, and discussed his diagnosis (I took notes and typed them up later like a good little student!) and I was fine, even though I kept thinking of my mom's oncologist.  But, Andy and I, being midwestern, kept on smiling and asking questions and he has 3 options for treatment.  One is wait and watch, one is a surgery and a third is chemo.  Well, the doctor goes on to describe the chemo and it's FUCKING one of the drugs that my mom took, and in my mind, is like the bullet that killed her.

So, I did put on a smile, and I did burst into tears and I grabbed Andy's hand, and I said to myself "This is not about you.  This is for Andy".  So, I pulled my shit together, and celebrated that he was going to be ok.  We mostly knew this, but he will be OKAY and the Keto diet isn't an effective treatment for his condition. This is all REALLY good news for Andy and John!

And I walked home and typed up the oncologist notes and did additional research to find other sources,  like a good girl, sent it off to Andy and took a nap.

All of this to say, I think I've been tempered by some kind of fire this week--I am DETERMINED!  I went to an Oncologist!  I did my first training gig in months, and I LOVED it.  Then, I did a sketch show on Saturday night--my first show in LA, and it was amazing to play to half a house in a small tiny theatre with 10 more people on stage than need to be!

And today, Sunday, I woke up and decided:  I have to do the headlights.  My friends Matt and Bart were very encouraging, as they had undertaken this task on a Prius in the past--and convinced me I could do it.  I had bought the parts, and was mostly counting on Bart ending up doing the job as he and I were scheduled to hang today.   But, the hang fell apart, so AFTER watching a million YouTube videos, I went to try.

I got the electric panel thing out, after twisting and tugging.  And then, I had access to the headlight casing.  But that mother fucking cover would NOT budge.

I tried to smile at it, and just got so MAD.

I took a walk and put on my most patient attitude.

I re-watched videos.  I joined PriusChat group and read a solution (Blow hot air on the casting).

I ate, as maybe I'm hungry and sad.  Mad/sad?

And now, I'm writing this blog.  And trying to think if there's an outlet in my building's garage...and do I have an extension cord not in current usage?

And I'm going to get this done, and NOT go to the Hybrid Shop.  But that mother fucker will not turn.

And I've assembled furniture, hung fencing, installed cable, put together my retro table after screws were stripped, hung artwork, etc.

But this STUPID car!  And that STUPID cancer!

But, as I quietly sip my diet coke, and watch Pickle make a nest on her bed, and make plans with my gal pals in the building, and listen to the fan, and eat my leftovers, and breathe in air and breathe out air and my CO2 exchange works, I think, in all honesty, I'm lucky to be alive. I'm lucky my parts work (mostly) and that I can hit my stepcount on my fitbit and that I get to see my family in a few weeks and no matter what, I'll get this headlight fixed.

Because if I am making it through the hardest thing of my life, my mother's death, I can either fix this, or pay a man to fix it for me.

And that's how today feels.  Empowered, determined, lucky and maybe I'll even lay out a bit later.

I MADE it through my birthday and Andy's cancer appointment and my first training and a sketch show and I am making it through this grief.

Watch out PRIUS!

What a week!!!

Dad was here and we did it up!  Train to Santa Barbara---it was amazing.  We saw dolphins (porpoises?) frolicking along the coast as we rode in our train.  Got off--and there was an amazing parade, with fancy horses celebrating Fiesta Days.  It was super hot, and I asked Dad "do you want to go somewhere cooler?" and he said "No, this is amazing. How did you find it Becky Bee?" and we watched.  Then, lunch at a lovely little spot and baja tacos and "mexican street corn"  (you can't fool me, I know Elotes when I see them!) and then a walk to the beach.  We MAY have fought about Anderson Cooper's line of questioning at the first presidential debate, but the sun was hot so instead, we went wine tasting.  Tried to catch the early train, but it was delayed, and we waited and waited at the SB train station.  Ride home was super relaxing, and then at the LA Union Station, couldn't find the car (I knew where it was, but Bruce was insistent), back home, a few drinks and we discussed our communication styles and ways to get on the same page as we sat outside on my patio.

Next day, Dad treated  my car to a shine and buff (so nice!) and we took naps, and then grilled out.  Andy and John let us stay at their place, and we golfed, ate out, and went to Beverly Hills church to mass and the priest was lovely.  Later we both confessed that we cried at mass and tried to keep it together.  Thankfully, Michelle St Marie (old family friend) was there, and we walked through Beverly Hills and ate lunch at the tippy top of Rodeo Drive, and my dad was able to share stories about her family, including her dad who passed away a few years ago, and her godmother, Kitty, who is the namesake for my sister Kitty and Michelle's sister Kitty.  Dad and Mom, and Kitty and another old family friend used to double date after midnight mass, and we all imagine them hanging out in heaven.  I won't lie, there were some tears, but it was wonderful.  Aren't we lucky?

Then, we went to home depot for supplies, and came home and dad did all my little odds and ends, including hanging a wonderful work of original art from my goddaughter, Jayna:):)

We golfed twice at the local public course, and he is so patient, kind, and fun on the golf course.  We got some burgers, and then had dinner with Andy.

Andy's dealing with some health issues, and even so, he came out and hung with us.

The morning my dad left, I put him in an Uber as I wanted to be there with Andy for health stuff--my dad ended up loving his driver and made it safely to LAX.  My mom had the same reaction--she was nervous about Uber (or maybe lyft?  Who knows) and loved loved chatting with the guy.

My dad loved on Pickle, and Andy and John's dog Pearl, and LOVED my new place.

I couldn't have asked for a better visit, and kept encouraging him to come back soon, and stay longer.

I also had my intake for my grief group with the very kind people at the center, and caught up with some pals.

Between the visit from Dad, and Andy's surgery and recovery, I felt more like myself than I have in a long time.

Dad is home, safe and sound, and we really bonded.  Andy is on the road to recovery, and in the best of hands.

And me?  I'm home, with little pickle, watching ER re-runs and thinking about my basil and other plants.  This weekend is a mini college reunion as we cheer on Adam and his Hollywood Bowl Star wars show, and chill the f out.

Thanks Bruce for the visit, right when it was needed, and helping me get my apartment (and life) in order.

Bruce (dad) is here!

He arrived at 910 p to LAX, and we were home by 10:30.  The phone's gps threw him off, but we got it sorted.

At home, he got a burst of hunger, and asked "do you have any real food?"  He wasn't interested in chicken pesto on carrot noodles, but chowed on my chopped med salad, and stole some of my tuna.

We ate, had some manhattans, managed Pickle's barking, reviewed the coffee maker, the tv (only ABC--that'll do for tomorrow), the bathroom lights and had lots of time to chat.

I love my dad--he seems to be ok.  We are all doing ok.

He's snoozing, I'm hanging, Pickle seems to be chilling.

I'm so happy to see my dad.