September 27, 2012

Demonic Amputating Flowers


Yesterday was sort of sad.  The baby has been talking about Dave a lot.  I’m remembering now that the grief counselors advised that the kids would re-grieve at each new developmental stage in their lives.  The baby is turning into a big boy.  He’s going to school.  He’s doing bigger boy things.  And realizing that Dave is dead….again.

I went through some photos yesterday, so I could print a few pics of him with his daddy.  I framed one and put it in his bedroom.  Merely looking through the photos cast me into a tail spin.  I was quickly clicking from one to the next, when I came upon a video.  His voice sliced me open like a knife.  It was like he was standing right there.  Dear God I hate the sadness.  I tortured myself for a few more minutes, and then decided I should do something I’ve been putting off too long.  The cemetery.  I’m not much of a grave lurker.  The place creeps me out.  Especially if I’m alone.  But Dave has not had new flowers in several months.  I don’t want his stuff looking all ratty.  It’s disrespectful, I guess.  Sort of like killing yourself.  But I do still have moments in which I love him and miss him.  Even though I say I don’t.  In fact, just since I recently declared that I don’t cry for him anymore, I’ve actually been crying for him a lot.  Well played you brilliant universe, you.

So I sulked over to the cemetery, feeling as sorry for myself as anyone could.  I got out of the car with my head slung low and a painful lump in my throat.  I’m a widow, and I still can’t believe it.  I’m only 43 years old.  My babies are still so little.  These should be the happiest moments in our lives right now.  Instead I am here.  I don’t think it’ll ever sink in completely.  How could this have happened? 

Increasingly I feel guilty.  Guilty for every fight we ever had, for every mean thing I ever said to him, for every time I was hateful and revengeful towards him.  I torture myself by pressing the rewind button in my head, over and over again.  Eventually I come to my senses and admit that I didn’t make him do this.  I remind myself over and over of what was really going on.  And how little I knew about what my own husband was doing.  That part makes me feel stupid.  I can’t believe he got me so good.  Fooled me over and over and over again, relentlessly.  Then I get mad again.  Up and down, up and down, the rickety roller coaster…until I just say fuck it, and push it all away.

Where was I?  Oh yes, how I almost had my arms amputated by flowers.  I quickly scooped up the faded and fraying flowers, and drove straight to the flower store.  I like to do the arrangements myself.  It’s the only thing I can still do for him, I guess.  I decided on sunflowers, some pretty browns and yellows and oranges.  Nothing too bright, but pretty enough for Fall.  I knew the kids would like them.  I came home and started arranging.  Some were too long.  These assholes who make these flowers, they don’t want you to cut the stems.  No siree.  They want them exactly the length they made them.  I know this because they put like six very thick strong wires all together.  I tried bending.  I tried giant garden loppers.  I tried wire cutters, at least I think that’s what I was using?  I finally had enough of the ridiculous charade and decided I will show these fucking flowers who’s the boss.  I will cut them with this big ass table saw.  Still a big pile of sawdust under it.  I can’t clean it up.  Because it’s Dave’s pile of saw dust.  So I turned it on, and held the flowers in front of the blade and WAM!  Sparks flew everywhere and the flowers were not cut.  No, that would be too normal.  The flowers, instead, with their thick wires made by the people who like too-long stems, got sucked up into the blade.  My hand was instantly jerked and pulled towards the blade, with the force of I don’t know what?  The gods obviously did not select the amputee card this day, because I let go.  Just in time.  My heart was pounding at what I just did.  I think I almost lost my hand.  The wires were all tangled up in the blade.  A big knotted mess.  I unplugged the machine and surgically removed the demonic wires.  I looked down, and every flower was now off the stems.  Every single one was lying in the pile of sawdust.  It was a weird moment, really.  I just stood there.  I said, “What, you don’t want these flowers?”  I’m so weird sometimes.  I felt even more defeated.  I can’t even cut the fucking flowers.  But I’m the Goddess of Everything.  I will have my way with these prick flowers.  So I dug around and found some type of sharp filing or scraping hand tool.  I laid the flowers down, put the tool just so, and whacked them with a framing hammer.  Mutha-1, Demonic amputating flowers-0.

19 comments:

  1. Whew! Scary! I'm glad you're ok. It sounds like something that I would do. Sheesh. :)

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  2. This is NOT a boring post about flowers. And you're NOT weird, unless fabulous beyond comprehension is synonymous with weird. This post will comfort all the people who are grieving over their own loss, reassuring them, that the time they were SURE the universe was talking to them? It was.

    xoxo

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  3. Fuck you! The universe speaks! Thanks, Goddess of Everything...you kicked the universe's ass with a power saw....Bwahahaaaa Universe!!!!!

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  4. I am really glad you didn't lose any appendages trying to hack the stems off of the flowers! I am sorry that the baby is starting to feel the loss again now that he is getting bigger, I know it only serves to make it hurt just that much more. I suck at saying the appropriate thing sometimes, but if I was there I would give you a hug and make you a margarita because in my head we are tight like that...
    Seriously, what you say is a "boring post about flowers trying to maim you" is a reminder to all of us just what a strong person and wonderful mother you are.

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  5. I'm so sorry the kiddos have been grieving hard lately. You're like me in that you tell yourself you are just fine and maybe even actually convince yourself until that moment when it all becomes just too real. I'm so glad you didn't hurt yourself with the table saw. Not only would that have hurt, but could've been a little embarrassing ;)

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  6. I read this and felt so bad for you and little darling. Then I read it again, then again. Then I started smiling just seeing you cut the hell out of those flowers. You are invincible.

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  7. I love how fitting the picture at the end is ;)

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  8. You are the only one left to parent your children... and you know this so stop doing stupid shit that may cost you an arm, if you are lucky enough to survive the 'accident' at all.

    *grumbles*

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    Replies
    1. Dear "Person",

      Putting the word accident in quotation marks suggests that I am deliberately trying to harm myself. I take offense to that.

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    2. Block the troll! We all have accidents. Wishing madwoman peace and love.

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  9. Fuck off, Anon - stop trolling.

    Madwoman - thank god your hand is okay. Sorry about the flowers. I loathe visiting my late sister's grave. I have horrible, morbid thoughts about her being under the ground etc...

    xxx

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  10. I was raised by my grandparents, with my dad bouncing in and out. My grandad went first, when I was a jr. in highschool. My dad was next, when I was 23. He wanted cremated (or so I judged because how else was he going to fit in a douche and ran through again,someone pretty please, per his request), it worked out ok because I was able to carry him in the car with me and avoid the dreaded cemetary where my beloved grandad was buried. My dad and I had a lot of fun during those years he spent in a box in my car, but that's another story. A few years later my grandma passed and the family beggedd me to bury dad. I knew he would hate the idea, but the living make a lot more noise than the dead...so buried he is. That was 10 years ago. I haven't been back to the cemetary since. Each year my hubby encourages me to go, something about closure...each year I agree and then develop some fascinating and unarguable reason why I can't - right before I get in the car. I'm not sure what my point is in telling you this, other than (which you already know I'm sure)we all deal with death in our own way. Some of us avoid it at all costs like me, and someday I will pay for that dearly. Maybe today I will pay a little because reading this post I am forced to wonder how long has my dad been gone? 20 years this past father's day! I should have known that. I should have gone to the damn cemetary. If you can I can. Maybe I'll mention it to the hubs and let him badger me into going. My kids need to see the beautiful hill my family rests on, and they need to hear my stories and see my tears. Oh, crap - where's the kleenex. Did I mention my dad's douch dream?? He had such a great sense of humor. And I know he enjoyed the years in my car. I think I will go have a beer in his honor. Maybe tell some chic she has a nice rack. That will make him giggle!sb

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  11. Dear Mad,

    I chanced on your blog one evening and I am sure glad I did. I read your blog and nod my head in agreement. I have lived with the loss of a family member by suicide and a sister that has been unsuccessfully trying to kill herself for the last twenty years. There has been a lot of trips to the hospital and a lot of sleepless nights over the years. Such is life unfortunately. I am trying to reclaim my life. I have children, a husband and a relatively crazy normal life. I want a chance at my own life. Not the life of those who are always suffering. I hear your strength. I can see you prevailing because you deserve to walk away from the shadow of your husbands pain and into the warmth of love with your children. All the best to you and your children. :)

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  12. The picture sums it up nicely. I wonder greatly at why things happen sometimes and situations like this make me wonder it the most. Is there rhyme and reason or is it all just random cause and effect? Love all your posts and wait for them with bated breath. xo

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  13. Wow! I think the time spent on the flowers symbolizes the time & money taken away from good things that you could be doing. I am glad you survived! I guess hands off the tools & save your flower money, maybe plant a fruit bearing tree that you can enjoy & that doesn't require a trip to the cemetery. I hate the word cemetery-it is like cement-solid, permanent. They hear you whether you are in your house or at their burial spot. The emotional ups & downs are healthy cause it shows you are in touch with many levels & depths of your entire being-you can't just hold it in-anger & sadness intermix & mesh which leads to frustration, question, helplessness on some levels as well as a level of acceptance or being forced into acceptance. You rock & shock, you daze & amaze me!! My life is richer with you in it sharing your words, feelings & your journey. You give us all prespective!

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  14. I've spent the past few days/nights reading this entire blog. My 41 yr old successfully shot himself 10 weeks ago today. We have 2 young kids, 4 and 2, and I am amazed at all you are doing for yourself and your babies. It takes all my energy just to get out of bed and try to take care of the kids. I hope that with more time, I will be able to find more strength as right now I feel like I just want to fly away from here. Every time I experience a second that I feel 'OK' something else happens and it's like I am sucker punched. I feel guilty and scared of everything. Thanks for sharing your story. This is the first time I've read something from someone in a similar situation and appreciate the honesty.

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    Replies
    1. Kelly,
      At 10 weeks, I was sedated every day and was the worst mother on the PLANET. I have no idea how I took care of my kids. I did a really shitty job. Considering they had just watched their father die, well...it makes me feel even worse. I did the best I could. Just TODAY, I read something I wrote at about 10 weeks time. Merely putting my eyes on the screen HURT. I hate reading those words. I hate remembering how AWFUL and FRESH and SCARY the feeling at 2 months was. You are in the worst possible time right now. 10 weeks is worst than 10 days because the fog is beginning to lift, ever so slightly. It's not pretty. I so hate this for you and your babies. I'm so sorry. Email me anytime. madwomandiary@yahoo.com Peace and Love...and just do the best you can. It's all we can really do anyway.

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  15. My first time to your blog and you write so well...so funny...about something that is not funny AT ALL. So sorry for everything you're having to deal with. So inspired by how you can laugh and make others laugh in spite of it all.

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