Whoops, I thought this was moved over !! Guess not !!
So now I'm here at WP......Live From The 205
Come see me !!!
Friday
Wednesday
Tuesday
Sunday
Who's that lady ?
See that lady in the black dress ?
The one with her best friend and husband on her left arm and her crazy wild unpredictable get her in trouble let's go cause it's fun friend on the other ? The one in the LBD between the two who share the same birthday, not only day and month but year ? The one between the two men who used to laugh and play with the lady in the LBD in the good old days ? One of them is gone now. One of them is still here, but he's not himself. He has let the demons that took control of his friend into his own house.
And I miss our boys in the back. Jason, Sam and Robert ... my dapper peanut gallery.
But the lady in the LBD ?
That lady has been wandering around lost for a bit.
But she's STILL HERE.
And she's damn good and tired of wandering around lost.
She wants out of her sweatpants and pajamas and back in her LBD. She misses her husband and best friend. She misses that goofy gray haired fool that used to argue with birthday brother about who she loved best.
She misses the good times.
Her new BFF, an incline trainer, will be here Wednesday. She's going to call on her old crazy friend and see if she can pull him out of his funk, herself out of hers, and start kicking some ass and taking some names.
It's time. Well past due. As Alan Jackson says, it's time for a good time.
My name is Kim.
I'm back.
Look out.
Friday
Still standing in the rain.....
I posted this video 7 months ago.
Almost 9 months now and I'm still in the middle of the storm.
And I'm still standing.
Bring it on baby. I can take it.
Almost 9 months now and I'm still in the middle of the storm.
And I'm still standing.
Bring it on baby. I can take it.
Tuesday
Dear Mom....
Dear Mom,
Let me start by saying I love you. I love you and appreciate you and am thankful for your help these last 8 and a half months. Most of the time. : )
I just need to put some things out there to let you know some of the things I'm thinking and feeling that I just can't say to you in person. I know some of them will hurt your feelings, but you said I could always tell you anything, so here goes....
* Even though I tell you I'm ok when you ask, I'm really not. I just can't put more of a burden on you than you are already carrying. I know you're strong enough to hurt for both of us. So am I. I hide it pretty well. There's only two people I really talk to about it....and they can handle it, and my emotions. You have enough on your plate.
* Dad is going to die. I know you tell me you just can't let yourself believe it, but you have to. He is using a walker!! A walker for the man who used to walk onto a football field in a San Francisco 49er's uniform. Look at the oxygen tanks they've delivered for future use. He is in the beginning stages of hospice care. This is a pretty good sign that things aren't going to end well. Nothing will prepare you, but the denial will make the reality so much worse when it comes. You say you have big shoulders and can take it. So do I. I am my mother's daughter. I'll be here when it comes. We'll get through it somehow. I don't know how yet, but we'll find a way. I hope.
* You have got to start taking care of your health. Physical and Mental. Your blood pressure is up, you are snappy and you are tired all of the time. Dad needs you, and I definitely need you. I'm glad you finally went to the doctor. No matter the results, I'm right here with you. I know you are hurting because of all of the turmoil with my situation, dad's illness and general family crap , but you need to be ok. If it's just a 20 minute walk to get some air, take it. It will probably do you more good than you know.
* Quit worrying so much about me. One way or another...I'll be ok. I just miss my best pal and honestly most of the time I would rather just be home alone. I'll keep putting one foot in front of the other, just like you have to do. Maybe something good will happen eventually....that's the thing we both have to cling to. If Probate Court gets continued again....it's just a house. It's just stuff. The little things really do take on more significance when the big picture gets shaken up. Life will go on. Maybe not how we would have wanted it, but it will.
* Yes, I have money for groceries. Look at me. You've heard of the freshman 15? I got the widows 25. I wish I had no appetite. Apparently I have mine and Greg's too.
* Yes, I'm still playing with video games. I'll reel you in on this Wii thing soon enough.
* Yes, I may have to take care of you one day. And no, the dogs aren't going anywhere. If you don't like that, like you said you have the money to pay for the finest care anywhere. I'll visit each week. With pie. ; )
* I want to come visit with yall as much as I can. But when I'm there, don't nag about Dad not doing anything all day. He has frigging cancer. He worked his ass off and gave us a good life and if he wants to lay in his recliner and die, just let him. And Dad, you stop telling me how mean mom is to you. She kisses your butt and you know it. You're both pain in the asses, and I don't want to be the thing in the middle !! It's like yall are the bickering teenage kids I never had!
* No, I don't know what we're going to do with "all of this stuff". That's why someone invented storage units. And it's my "stuff", I'll be the one to decide what goes and what stays, thanks.
* I appreciate you calling to see how I am, but really, it's not necessary to call around 9am. Every day. I don't go to bed with the chickens like some folks do. Sometime around lunch or even after the 5 o'clock weather would be just fine. And I know if you don't hear from me several times a day you worry. Don't be alarmed, I'm not going to off myself or anything. I think wayyyy too highly of me to deprive the world of my awesomeness.
OK, think that covers it.
Oh, one more thing.
I love you.
XOXO
Let me start by saying I love you. I love you and appreciate you and am thankful for your help these last 8 and a half months. Most of the time. : )
I just need to put some things out there to let you know some of the things I'm thinking and feeling that I just can't say to you in person. I know some of them will hurt your feelings, but you said I could always tell you anything, so here goes....
* Even though I tell you I'm ok when you ask, I'm really not. I just can't put more of a burden on you than you are already carrying. I know you're strong enough to hurt for both of us. So am I. I hide it pretty well. There's only two people I really talk to about it....and they can handle it, and my emotions. You have enough on your plate.
* Dad is going to die. I know you tell me you just can't let yourself believe it, but you have to. He is using a walker!! A walker for the man who used to walk onto a football field in a San Francisco 49er's uniform. Look at the oxygen tanks they've delivered for future use. He is in the beginning stages of hospice care. This is a pretty good sign that things aren't going to end well. Nothing will prepare you, but the denial will make the reality so much worse when it comes. You say you have big shoulders and can take it. So do I. I am my mother's daughter. I'll be here when it comes. We'll get through it somehow. I don't know how yet, but we'll find a way. I hope.
* You have got to start taking care of your health. Physical and Mental. Your blood pressure is up, you are snappy and you are tired all of the time. Dad needs you, and I definitely need you. I'm glad you finally went to the doctor. No matter the results, I'm right here with you. I know you are hurting because of all of the turmoil with my situation, dad's illness and general family crap , but you need to be ok. If it's just a 20 minute walk to get some air, take it. It will probably do you more good than you know.
* Quit worrying so much about me. One way or another...I'll be ok. I just miss my best pal and honestly most of the time I would rather just be home alone. I'll keep putting one foot in front of the other, just like you have to do. Maybe something good will happen eventually....that's the thing we both have to cling to. If Probate Court gets continued again....it's just a house. It's just stuff. The little things really do take on more significance when the big picture gets shaken up. Life will go on. Maybe not how we would have wanted it, but it will.
* Yes, I have money for groceries. Look at me. You've heard of the freshman 15? I got the widows 25. I wish I had no appetite. Apparently I have mine and Greg's too.
* Yes, I'm still playing with video games. I'll reel you in on this Wii thing soon enough.
* Yes, I may have to take care of you one day. And no, the dogs aren't going anywhere. If you don't like that, like you said you have the money to pay for the finest care anywhere. I'll visit each week. With pie. ; )
* I want to come visit with yall as much as I can. But when I'm there, don't nag about Dad not doing anything all day. He has frigging cancer. He worked his ass off and gave us a good life and if he wants to lay in his recliner and die, just let him. And Dad, you stop telling me how mean mom is to you. She kisses your butt and you know it. You're both pain in the asses, and I don't want to be the thing in the middle !! It's like yall are the bickering teenage kids I never had!
* No, I don't know what we're going to do with "all of this stuff". That's why someone invented storage units. And it's my "stuff", I'll be the one to decide what goes and what stays, thanks.
* I appreciate you calling to see how I am, but really, it's not necessary to call around 9am. Every day. I don't go to bed with the chickens like some folks do. Sometime around lunch or even after the 5 o'clock weather would be just fine. And I know if you don't hear from me several times a day you worry. Don't be alarmed, I'm not going to off myself or anything. I think wayyyy too highly of me to deprive the world of my awesomeness.
OK, think that covers it.
Oh, one more thing.
I love you.
XOXO
Sunday
The Closet revisited.....
I have been cleaning out our closet. Well, my closet.
I posted about this endeavor months ago....so now I am trying again.
His clothes have hung there for over 8 months, undisturbed, except for the occasional t-shirt, sweatshirt or flannel shirt I'll pull out and wear around.
I've begun to go through them. One by one, I pull them down , look at them, and make a decision in my mind for them to go in one of three places - stay, go to consignment, or go to the Salvation Army. Many of them trigger nothing inside me, just a random look at the label or a fleeting thought of where they were purchased.
So many of them trigger so much more. Raw emotion. Smiles, tears, and a few , something so gut-wrenching I have to stop, turn off the lights and leave for awhile. One particular night brought a string of some so powerful I just laid down in the closet and cried.
I try to tell myself that they are just clothes, threads of materials intertwined together in some factory far away by people we don't know. But they're not. They are memories. They are pieces of him that I can hold onto, sleep in, cry in and try to smell what may be left of his scent in.
The time before this was just a trial run, this time I'm really doing it. I've made Patrick's old bedroom Fashion Row, if you will. There are laundry hampers and two racks in there, endless hangers, and a notepad where I record what goes where and when. Dress clothes, suits, shorts, jeans, ties, hats, shoes.
Then there's a corner of our closet that has the things I'll never part with....
the shirt he wore when we eloped, the shirt he wore at our unofficial vow renewal in NOLA, and other items that mean things to us. Throw in a few hats, some hoodies and his leather jacket and I've still got a little to hold onto.
And a little of something is better than a lot of nothing.
I posted about this endeavor months ago....so now I am trying again.
His clothes have hung there for over 8 months, undisturbed, except for the occasional t-shirt, sweatshirt or flannel shirt I'll pull out and wear around.
I've begun to go through them. One by one, I pull them down , look at them, and make a decision in my mind for them to go in one of three places - stay, go to consignment, or go to the Salvation Army. Many of them trigger nothing inside me, just a random look at the label or a fleeting thought of where they were purchased.
So many of them trigger so much more. Raw emotion. Smiles, tears, and a few , something so gut-wrenching I have to stop, turn off the lights and leave for awhile. One particular night brought a string of some so powerful I just laid down in the closet and cried.
I try to tell myself that they are just clothes, threads of materials intertwined together in some factory far away by people we don't know. But they're not. They are memories. They are pieces of him that I can hold onto, sleep in, cry in and try to smell what may be left of his scent in.
The time before this was just a trial run, this time I'm really doing it. I've made Patrick's old bedroom Fashion Row, if you will. There are laundry hampers and two racks in there, endless hangers, and a notepad where I record what goes where and when. Dress clothes, suits, shorts, jeans, ties, hats, shoes.
Then there's a corner of our closet that has the things I'll never part with....
the shirt he wore when we eloped, the shirt he wore at our unofficial vow renewal in NOLA, and other items that mean things to us. Throw in a few hats, some hoodies and his leather jacket and I've still got a little to hold onto.
And a little of something is better than a lot of nothing.
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