16. Being Alone

3/23/08 6:15 PM

Is anger another phase in the grieving process?

I guess I do have to come to terms with myself. I keep trying to see the good things, but the errors keep rearing up like cobras spreading their hoods. I don't even know how to approach a woman, let alone start a new relationship so soon after her passing. I cannot force it. I cannot make it happen Whomever (if ever) my next companion is to be, she would have to choose me, foibles and all. I have no riches or property. I am starting over completely from scratch. All I have to offer is my undying love and devotion and affection. It would take a special woman to see that in me and find that of value, and accept me. I am so shy, I wouldn't even know how to "break the ice". After all, I had my lady love; why would I need to keep those skills honed? Am I the same guy you knew in college?

Yeah, I guess the JWs wouldn't want me unless I'm willing to take dumb-down pills. I just want peace of mind. I want this torment to end. I have begun reading Book 1 of those wonderful books (thanks) but they are kind of heavy at times and I need to devote some time so I can just sit and read. I feel fragile, and when a new problem comes up sometimes I just go to pieces. I sure wish I could get a hug somewhere. Yes, I hug my kids until they can't breathe. :-)

I am trying. I know I have to be strong, to focus and go forward. But it is difficult (what the hell am I saying? Look who I'm talking to!) to pick up the slivers of my shattered life, try to repair and rebuild, make every decision alone and hope the place don't blow sky high!



3/28/08 10:10 AM

Went 2 hours this morning before weeping. A new record.

Some good news. An old friend of mine from high school is buying me a new iMac so I can be more productive and work faster and profitably. He also has some graphic work for me. Debbie was always right about the sparrows in the trees and the lilies of the field.

I was looking at pix from the BBQ. You're look great and have a wonderful smile.

Ramiro, my special little guy. I call him Little Big Man, after one of my favorite movies, starring Dustin Hoffman. It's a deep movie with funny moments, about a white orphan adopted and raised by Cheyenne Indians. He spends his life crossing between the white world and the Cheyenne (which means "Human Beings") mostly for survival. He earned his name as boy by killing a Paiute Indian who was about to kill another Cheyenne boy. In his naming ceremony, the Chief said "He was a little man. But today he acted like a big man. His name shall now be Little Big Man." It's a great movie; check it out.

He's got a spark and a great sense of humor, my Little Big Man does. He tries so hard to learn new things, and he tries to cheer me up and make me laugh. When I am in a deep funk, he scolds me. "No more crying! No sad! Happy!" When we 3 say the Our Father together, he often gets that look in his eye (Head for the Hills!) and puts on a funny voice to make me laugh. He loves his big brother so much; the 2 are inseparable.

When she was pregnant with Ramiro, we tried to prepare Otilio (Oh-TEE-lee-oh) for his new brother. When Miro was 3 days old, I brought Tito, 2 years old then, to see Mami and the baby in the hospital. She was holding Miro and feeding him formula from the little glass bottle the hospital gives you. Even though we prepared him he got a confused look on his face (he'd arch his eyebrow like Mister Spock and crunch his face). Why is mami holding a baby? I'M the baby!

She put Miro in the bassinet, and we went to sit on the couch to talk. Then we saw something so beautiful. Tito was looking at Miro in the crib, and then he picked up the empty bottle and tried to feed his little brother. We were in tears of happiness.