Day 30: I am thankful for my past, present, & future. It's made me who I am, I'm alive, & tomorrow holds so much joy & possibilities.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 30, 2012
Friday, November 30, 2012
Day 30: Month of Thankfulness
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Day 29: Month of Thankfulness
Day 29: I'm thankful for friends who support my crafting addiction by supplying me with used t-shirts.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 29, 2012
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Day 28: Month of Thankfulness
Day 28: I am thankful to have friends who are willing to change plans from an afternoon Christmas shopping to take me to the doctor's office
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 28, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Day 27: Month of Thankfulness
Day 27: I am thankful to find humor in the oddest of places. Like watching a child fart while sitting on her sister's lap. Hilarious!
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 28, 2012
Monday, November 26, 2012
Day 26: Month of Thankfulness
Day 26: I am thankful to spend my weekly Monday evening with two young, beautiful, fun, vivacious girls doing our weekly Monday girl thang!
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 27, 2012
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Day 25: Month of Thankfulness
Day 25: I am thankful to have love in my life again. As a #widow I never thought I would feel this good again. Thank you, Douglas Elder.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 25, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Day 24: Month of Thankfulness
Day 24: I'm thankful for my constant companions, givers of unconditional love, and bestest snuggle mates: Belle and Cleagan - my two pups.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 24, 2012
Friday, November 23, 2012
Day 23: Month of Thankfulness
Day 23: I am thankful for forgiveness. Both the grace within to offer forgiveness and the peace of having received forgiveness.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 23, 2012
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Day 22: Month of Thankfulness
I'm thankful for all those I have loved and will love; for those that have loved and will love me. Love is what makes it all worthwhile.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 22, 2012
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.
- Mary Oliver
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Day 21: Month of Thankfulness
Day 21: I'm thankful I'm not a sparkly vampire & am only forced 2 watch them on the big screen - w/ the best of company. This is friendship.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 22, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Day 20: Month of Thankfulness
Day 20: I'm thankful that this year I get to look forward to the holidays for some new and fabulous reasons.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 20, 2012
Monday, November 19, 2012
Day 19: Month of Thankfulness
Day 19: I am thankful to have family that shares my history and loves me towards a new future.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 19, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Day 18: Month of Thankfulness
Day 18: Thankful the non-stop-barking, peeing & pooing in the house dog now does none of the aforementioned offenses. Only took a month!
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 19, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Day 17: Month of Thankfulness
Day 17: Thankful for someone to hold my head as I puke. NO! I most certainly DID NOT drink too much! Bite me. We had a lovely time. Thbbbttt
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 19, 2012
Friday, November 16, 2012
Day 16: Month of Thankfulness
Day 16: I am thankful 2 have a true appreciation for all the good that life has 2 offer. That knowledge came @ a high price but I'll take it
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 16, 2012
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Day 15: Month of Thankfulness
Day 15: I'm thankful to, once again, have hot and cold running water in my kitchen. It's been over 2 years. Way too long. Thank you, Matt!
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 16, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Day 14: Month of Thankfulness
Day 14: I'm thankful that when the going gets strange & difficult, I have people who love & back me up, & lots of options available.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 14, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Day 13: Month of Thankfulness
Day 13: I'm thankful 2 know there r better options 2 choose besides crazy & reactionary. Like love, faith, trust & hope. Life is beautiful.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 14, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
Day 12: Month of Thankfulness
Day 12: I'm thankful that my man is around to bathe that beshitted stinky dog - saving my sensitive olfactory sensibilities.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 13, 2012
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Day 11: Month of Thankfulness
Day 11: I am thankful for beautiful weather that allows me and mine to spend the day outside creating special memories.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 11, 2012
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Day 10: Month of Thankfulness
Day 10: I'm thankful my late husband introduced to me to wonderful friends - even after his death.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 10, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
Day 9: Month of Thankfulness
Day 9: I am thankful for people in my life who say "I've got this" and then totally take care of shit. It's too hard to do it all alone.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 9, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Day 8: Month of Thankfulness
Day 8: I'm thankful for the option & ability to take a random day of rest when I'm run down & feeling punky. So many people can't do that.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 9, 2012
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Day 7: Month of Thankfulness
Today I had to take my contacts out and walk around all bleary and red eyed. Suddenly I'm thankful for sight - and backup glasses!
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 8, 2012
Grief Groupies - Beware
I'm a bit of an advice column junkie. Imagine my surprise when, on one of the rare occasions that a widow/er issue was raised, it happened to be something I was dealing with myself.
Dear Miss Manners:I recently became a widower following my late wife's lengthy illness. After her diagnosis, we both had time to plan both her final arrangements and for my one day becoming the surviving spouse. This was never a pleasant consideration, but I do feel that it prepared us well for the inevitable.We discovered during her illness that there are two fairly distinct groups of well-wishers: The first is those who genuinely but matter-of-factly say: "How are you doing? We're so sorry to hear of your condition and hope your recovery is going smoothly. Please let us know if we can do anything to help," and then promptly get back to the business of conversing with the living.The second is the group who approach with hang-dog faces, tilted heads sad puppy dog eyes and almost moan out essentially the same sentiment but never seem to want to get off the subject. (This seems a bit incendiary for Miss Manners, but we came to refer to the latter group as "grief groupies.")A few weeks after her passing, I attended my first subdued social event as a widower. I enjoyed the company and dinner but left somewhat early, being the only single among a small crowd of couples.After my departure, my closest friend was approached by someone who said, "How's Ed really doing?" My friend assured him that I was handling things as well as could be expected and seemed to be doing a good job of getting on with my life.The "well-wisher" assured my friend, based on some past personal experience, that was probably not the case at all and proceeded to ramble on about how griefstricken I must be.I'm sorely tempted to reply to such people with something akin to, "I'm doing well except for those people who seemingly won't be happy until I'm miserable," but I know better than that. My parents (and my wife) raised me to handle situations like this with as much grace as one is able to muster, but it just infuriates me to be told how I'm supposed to grieve.It's difficult enough as it is without being chastised for my technique!I learned from my wife (who had to repeatedly handle this during her illness) to be as pleasant as possible as briefly as possible but to eventually cut off excessive grieving with, "Well, surely there must be something more interesting to talk about than this. How have you and Mrs. Buttinski been doing?"Would Miss Manners be so kind as to offer some other techniques for handling the "overly grieving"?Gentle Reader:It is a particular plague of modern society that everyone considers himself a freelance therapist, serving humanity by telling others how they feel.You were fortunate that your wife gave you such a good example. Miss Manners can only adapt for your situation. You can hardly say that your loss is uninteresting. But you can say, in a tone speaking more of sensitivity than indignation, "It's not something I care to discuss" if you immediately follow that, as your wife did, by asking a politely neutral question about the speaker.
(Miss Manners column pulled from the Post-Tribune.)
I was so surprised to hear the term 'grief groupies' as I thought I had come up with it all on my own. The people who only showed up in my life to hear or see the most lurid moments of my sadness but never stuck around to helpful in those moments or any other moments. Those people who are only interested in me for the horrid details of my most personal pain. Grief groupies, indeed.
I wrote about grief groupies, in a roundabout way, several months ago. At the time I was upset about the prying people. The people who wanted to know how he died, having just met me. Like it was any of their business. Like I was that evenings entertainment. Since that post, I've gotten a little calmer about my response. Not always demanding to know breast/penis size in return for asking prying questions. Notice, "not always". Cause sometimes I still throw that answer out. Mostly I just look at them like a strange new bug and say "what makes you think it's okay to ask me that?" Then I walk away. Cause really? I don't want to dialog with stupid people.
And please spare me the "they just don't know what to say and so therefore say the wrong thing" argument. I'm already grieving and can't remember my own name half the time. Now I also have to be responsible to make others feel comfortable? Nope. Not doing it. I'm mourning the death of my husband. They can just figure out the right thing to say or get out of my way.
But I want to get back to that first group. The ones who show up out of the blue, the ones who know what happened, and have come to settle in and watch the floor show. And it's me. I'm the floor show. It makes me sick when I realize I've come across these people. It makes me feel dirty. As if I've done something wrong.
If you're a widow or widower, you know these people. You've had one, or three, or a half dozen of them crawl out of the woodwork. Some may have surprised you. Some, upon reflection, may not have surprised you.
These are the people who show up at the funeral ready to throw themselves on the casket, watching you the whole while, waiting to see if you'll out drama them. Wanting you to out drama them.
These are the people who barely spoke to you before, for some imagined slight, but keep showing up at the house trying to push past you. Trying to get into the house while saying the most sickeningly sweet things with venom dripping from the edges of the words. Craining their necks to see past you, to see how badly you and the house have fallen apart. They won't take no for an answer so you start keeping your blinds down and cower in the bedroom when they knock on the door.
The ones who you meet for lunch or diner and five minutes in start asking the most bizarre questions like "when do you think you'll have sex again" and "have you had him send you messages since he died?"
These are the people who show up to keep you company, spend thirty minutes complaining about how they can't pay all their bills, and then follow up with the "how much are you getting for life insurance" question.
And maybe I have done something wrong. Cause these people were in my life before Steve died. These sick, demented, pathetic, freak show watching people were somewhere in my life - either on the fridges or part of my inner circle - way before something really bad happened. How much of my old life did they poison with their insanity? How did I not see what they truly were and kick them out before they could do me serious damage?
Those grief groupies, they are the ones that really hurt. More than any stranger who is simply stupid and insipid and wanting to hear details. These groupies are the ones who really should know better, and don't. Because the truth is: They. Don't. Care. And they were already in my life.
Now here's the good news. We can kick them to curb. And please, do it while wearing heels. Big pointed spiky heels. Feel free to leave lots of puncture marks as you walk over them, and past them, and beyond them. Cause they are always gonna be miserable, disgusting, facsimiles of human beings with no emotions other than pain, anger, jealousy and glee at other people's depth of the same. And we're not that. We've got our grief, but we've got it because we've had joy, love, friendship, support and all the wonderful things that make up life. It's the reason we grieve. We miss all those wonderful things. And we'll find joy again. And hope again. And love and support and kindness again. Because that is who we are.
There's more good news. We'll see those grief groupies a long way off from here on out. They'll never be able to surprise us again cause we can recognize what they are before they become entrenched in our lives. And when we see them coming, we can just wave our pointed high heels in their direction and scatter them like the roaches they are.
Grief groupies, beware.
I was so surprised to hear the term 'grief groupies' as I thought I had come up with it all on my own. The people who only showed up in my life to hear or see the most lurid moments of my sadness but never stuck around to helpful in those moments or any other moments. Those people who are only interested in me for the horrid details of my most personal pain. Grief groupies, indeed.
I wrote about grief groupies, in a roundabout way, several months ago. At the time I was upset about the prying people. The people who wanted to know how he died, having just met me. Like it was any of their business. Like I was that evenings entertainment. Since that post, I've gotten a little calmer about my response. Not always demanding to know breast/penis size in return for asking prying questions. Notice, "not always". Cause sometimes I still throw that answer out. Mostly I just look at them like a strange new bug and say "what makes you think it's okay to ask me that?" Then I walk away. Cause really? I don't want to dialog with stupid people.
And please spare me the "they just don't know what to say and so therefore say the wrong thing" argument. I'm already grieving and can't remember my own name half the time. Now I also have to be responsible to make others feel comfortable? Nope. Not doing it. I'm mourning the death of my husband. They can just figure out the right thing to say or get out of my way.
But I want to get back to that first group. The ones who show up out of the blue, the ones who know what happened, and have come to settle in and watch the floor show. And it's me. I'm the floor show. It makes me sick when I realize I've come across these people. It makes me feel dirty. As if I've done something wrong.
If you're a widow or widower, you know these people. You've had one, or three, or a half dozen of them crawl out of the woodwork. Some may have surprised you. Some, upon reflection, may not have surprised you.
These are the people who show up at the funeral ready to throw themselves on the casket, watching you the whole while, waiting to see if you'll out drama them. Wanting you to out drama them.
These are the people who barely spoke to you before, for some imagined slight, but keep showing up at the house trying to push past you. Trying to get into the house while saying the most sickeningly sweet things with venom dripping from the edges of the words. Craining their necks to see past you, to see how badly you and the house have fallen apart. They won't take no for an answer so you start keeping your blinds down and cower in the bedroom when they knock on the door.
The ones who you meet for lunch or diner and five minutes in start asking the most bizarre questions like "when do you think you'll have sex again" and "have you had him send you messages since he died?"
These are the people who show up to keep you company, spend thirty minutes complaining about how they can't pay all their bills, and then follow up with the "how much are you getting for life insurance" question.
And maybe I have done something wrong. Cause these people were in my life before Steve died. These sick, demented, pathetic, freak show watching people were somewhere in my life - either on the fridges or part of my inner circle - way before something really bad happened. How much of my old life did they poison with their insanity? How did I not see what they truly were and kick them out before they could do me serious damage?
Those grief groupies, they are the ones that really hurt. More than any stranger who is simply stupid and insipid and wanting to hear details. These groupies are the ones who really should know better, and don't. Because the truth is: They. Don't. Care. And they were already in my life.
Now here's the good news. We can kick them to curb. And please, do it while wearing heels. Big pointed spiky heels. Feel free to leave lots of puncture marks as you walk over them, and past them, and beyond them. Cause they are always gonna be miserable, disgusting, facsimiles of human beings with no emotions other than pain, anger, jealousy and glee at other people's depth of the same. And we're not that. We've got our grief, but we've got it because we've had joy, love, friendship, support and all the wonderful things that make up life. It's the reason we grieve. We miss all those wonderful things. And we'll find joy again. And hope again. And love and support and kindness again. Because that is who we are.
There's more good news. We'll see those grief groupies a long way off from here on out. They'll never be able to surprise us again cause we can recognize what they are before they become entrenched in our lives. And when we see them coming, we can just wave our pointed high heels in their direction and scatter them like the roaches they are.
Grief groupies, beware.
--------------------------------------------------------
Today's post is part of a monthly blog-hop (first Wednesday of each month). It's a way to find other widow/er bloggers to read, interact with, discuss, and follow. Feel free to leave comments, send e-mails, share and interact. The following links are to other blogs participating in this month's hop. Hope you find someone and something new that helps you.
Samantha of the Crazy Courage blog
Robin of The Fresh Widow
Ferree of Widow's Christian Place
Red's Momma's Money Matters
Robin of The Fresh Widow
Ferree of Widow's Christian Place
Red's Momma's Money Matters
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Day 6: Month of Thankfulness
I am thankful to have the ability and right to vote - and for the two amazing little girls who accompanied me and helped push the buttons.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 7, 2012
Monday, November 5, 2012
Day 5: Month of Thankfulness
I am thankful that when I'm having a day where everything goes wrong, I still get to receive a massage. What a way to turn around a bad day!
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 5, 2012
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Day 4: Month of Thankfulness
This is totally a girly & TMI thang but I am so thankful to have meds and methods to battle cramps. Being a girl is hard sometimes, boys.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 4, 2012
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Day 3: Month of Thankfulness
I am thankful for new friends who so easily & quickly invite me into their lives, arms wide open. What a beautiful wedding I attended today.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 3, 2012
Friday, November 2, 2012
Day 2: Month of Thankfulness
Today I am thankful my family in NY and NJ are safe and sound, even if some are still without power. Love my in-laws!
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 2, 2012
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Day 1: Month of Thanksgiving
My month of daily Thanksgiving starts today. I am thankful for the two new, beautiful, funny, smart, young girls I have in my life.
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) November 1, 2012
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