Dec 3rd- crumbling walls- Chris Ritchey

Although  I  write about you  every  3rd day  of every  month as a way  to  release my  grief, love of you and so  you  are not forgotten, December 3rd is looming. The dying days that start at Thanksgiving – the day  I sat alone in the waiting room as you  were put on the vent.  I  relive that day  and that intensive care waiting room  every  year  dreading I won’t be able to  hold myself together amidst all the joy  of turkey , pumpkins, pies and laughter.

The circus that ensued  that terrible Thanksgiving Day  at the Cleveland Clinic thanks to “those others” (Lombardi)  who  finally  came to “wait”, share  dry  turkey  and cold mashed potatoes and discuss recipes whilst you  were fighting for your life  sickens me still. I  could never understand their reactions of party hearty   , picnic time- it is a wonder they  didn’t bring celebratory  wine. Respect and kindness to  your family as we tried to  deal with the losing of you   certainly  wasn’t on their menu .

artwork Chris Ritchey

It starts with  Thanksgiving  , the defense walls are reinforced , more to  protect others from the volatile emotions that are churning within me. They  deserve and need their happiness, they need not be reminded of dying days. I so  wish I  was  strong, I  am not.

These days leading up  to  the day  you  died leave me , even after the years of trying to  train myself to  avoid the trigger moments, weak and bereft of control.  I had a relative who  used to  take to  their bed when there were situations they  couldn’t handle. There is no  respite for me  there in amongst the down pillows. I lay  awake fighting down the  emotional agony  of remembrance of those days .Finally  exhaustion will bring sleep  but the mind  continues and all the building of walls to  keep my  emotions and thoughts in check are breached. Down pillows  become wet with tears.

Honestly  I  don’t know how my  heart has kept beating, there are times choking back sobs I can’t breathe.  but your  beautiful sister and two  little boys  whose excitement  at the season acts as an antidote  enabling me once again to bear the unbearable.

 

Your Chris Miss presents to  Gavin and Braedyn will once again be delivered  and I will reinforce the walls ….. I love and miss you  every  day  but  December 3rd will find the walls tumbled into  nothing and I will hide from the world until I  can function again.

Artwork Chris Ritchey

“Heartbreak is a heavy  burden to carry as a soul weakens”  I  love you  Chris

Nov. 3rd- tale of two – grief- Chris Ritchey

Chris Ritchey Source

Just three days after I  wrote the October 3rd  remembrance of you  your Nana joined you. I would like to  think  that you  were there for her. I  know  how much  you  loved her.

It has been almost a month and the grieving for your  Nana is so  different. I feel like a vessel full to  the brim with  sadness but inside this vessel  the grief at the loss of you  and of my  mum meet . The grief I have for you  plunges , rolls, rises up and is pushed back down. It takes will power not to  drown in its depths but it can overwhelm me at times. It is  cold , tearing at my  brain, heart and gut taking pieces of me as it rages on. It is a monster  and no  parent should have to  feel its presence.

Your  Nana , I so  miss, I spent every  day  with her for the past 34 years , she was part of all decisions made as a family. And for the past 8  years shared this roof and kitchen. There are many  things that will bring tears but somehow they  comfort  as release. It is a gentle grief. Nana had lived a full life – fuller than most- her 99 years apart from the past few months saw her enjoying life, having her wits about her  and  good health. She had grown tired  wanted to
“get off the planet”  more and more as her health deteriorated. Her passing was with  dignity, love and was  understandable. She embraced the “transitioning” -her life force spent  not from disease but just being old. and wearing out. Her passing was logical, the grand order of things and the grief I feel does not leave me questioning WHY???? or looking for answers.

 I understand the loss of my  mother  but not the loss of you  and my  heart and brain rails  against the WHY!!!

Source Chris Ritchey

 

 

The Dance ended- the room emptied- Mum 2018

 

Will you  write about me? What will you  say? You  won’t forget me ?

Yes mum I will write about you , but not an obituary  after all how could I put into  200 or at the most 450  words the life lived for 99 years ?  I could fill that space with  just the last 5 months.  I did write a special post on your 97th  birthday  which  covered some highlights  of your  life

https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2016/02/10/in-the-pink-97-years-and-counting-mum/

“My mum is gentle , sweet, never sees the bad in people ( sometimes a failing), can bake for Britain, loves people with a depth beyond knowing, always makes excuses for their not so nice behavior, and has a strength to her that has sustained her for 97 years.

I don’t know what I  will say  I never know until I sit down at the keyboard  but I  am sure  nothing I  can write can do  you  justice to  people who  do  not know you  or know you  well.

You  won’t write the bad bits will you? I  didn’t put the bad bits in my  book

Cover Design Chris Ritchey

https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2010/09/12/long-time-passing-gone-to-fighting-everyone/

“ROY (  my  father)  was on leave from the Navy for 4 days. He phoned on the Sunday and we were to be married by special license in the little church on the Ridgeway , Mill Hill on the Monday.
What a day for a wedding France had surrendered and our guests were more concerned with the war news”
SOURCE
After the reception we left Roy’s home to “go away” Where? we had no idea . Uncle Jack had kindly lent us the Humber. As he stood at the door waving us off he said: “You look such a couple of kids no one will take you in” I was silent as we sped along the great North Way – this was June and the last time I had seen Roy was the previous Christmas when we became engaged”

https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2010/09/17/long-time-passing-gone-to-fighting-everyone-part-three/

I promise  I won’t add to  what I have already  written and you  have already   seen and read. I have written reams about you  every  birthday for the past 10 years, your life with  us, I will not add to  what has already  been written of those times .   BUT  mum those bad bits and terrible times were your finest hours the adversity  and pain you  faced  showed your absolute courage and strength of purpose.

‘No  , not the bad bits that only  you  know…

Ok mum  but what about the artist that wanted to  paint you  nude?

NO certainly  not I only  found out in time he wanted to  paint my  breasts as a back splash for the hot and cold taps in his kitchen .

There are hundreds of people all over this world whose lives you  touched in your 99 years.  You  always found the good in even those that hurt you and caused life changes , you  were  so  different from myself. I could never forgive those that caused you  pain. I  did put up  with at least one of them for your sake, you  never made or wanted fuss and confrontation.

https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2011/09/26/what-are-they-thinking-the-thought-process-stops-here/

 

The only  people you  never forgave was the Tim and Sue Lombardi  clan and their offspring ( Angela Lombardi ( Ritchey) Murphy, ( she has a steel rod up  her back were your words just a few days ago , very  cold)  so  unlike you but they  caused this family  great hurt and in your words were unconscionably cruel to  your loved ones  in the passing of your long-awaited grandson Chris .

https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2010/10/14/an-open-letter-mama-sue-lombardi/

https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2010/12/04/dec-4th-how-cold-is-cold-lombardi/

It was the only time you  didn’t tell me to  “forget and forgive”, probably  knowing as well that is never going to  happen.

No  mum we will never forget you , you  were a stabilizing force in all our lives, kind to  a fault, funny  even in those last days trying to  bring a smile to  those having to  watch  the Danse Macabre  .

https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2018/10/03/oct-3rd-danse-macabre-chris-ritchey/

You  were always so  worried that you  would have to  go  into  a home,

“I am not afraid of dying  it is what you  have to  die with  that worries me”

She hated the thought of a long drawn out death  that she would not be in her own bed. and would be surrounded by  strangers . I promised her that she would remain with  us in this house, in her own bed and she would always be clean and her bedding fresh  but there was nothing I could do  about the months it took for her to  slowly  disappear . She hated the loss of her independence , such  an independent  little soul, not to  be able to  contribute to  the work load around here  but was adding to  it .

Mum tried every  day  to  “help” even when her little body  was less than 60  lbs.

Finally came the days when she was bedridden and needed help  to  do  the simplest task such  as eat or drink, no  longer having the strength . No  longer could she sit among the flowers on her balcony , only  viewing through  the window in her bedroom.  She did not deserve to  have to  wait for her death this way and I  am angry  that she lost the things in dying what she so  treasured in life, privacy, independence  but I  tried my  utmost to  give her the dignity  she so  deserved that was denied my  son, in that at least Nikki  and I  succeeded.

“I am so  tired, exhausted, I know I  won’t see those little boys grow up , I  love them so  much  they  are held in my  heart , make sure you tell them. Make sure they  always have a Christmas present from me.

My  mum  made her arrangements in 1992- and nothing changed -she once again thought of others even those long years ago  , just as she had made life easier for me as her daughter in life , she did so as she passed.  I got to  hold her hand , sing her the songs of my  childhood , songs she sang to  me to  quiet my  bad dreams or pain hoping that it would help calm her journey and take away  the fear we all must face. She slipped past me quietly without fuss or drama , her granddaughters words of love bringing a quiet smile.

No  mum we won’t forget you , how could we you are in your granddaughter’s eyes, Braedyn’s laugh  and Gavin’s kind heart……………..You  are in the collective memory of nieces nephews, some of whom are in their 70’s and 80’s whom you  knew and held as babies, who  came to  stay  with  you  over the years, of friends who became family……  as for me I  cherish your spirit and always will……. til we meet again……..

A mother understands what her child does NOT say

 

 

Oct. 3rd -Danse Macabre- Chris Ritchey

 

Bauhaus-Archiv Berlin /Source 

Once again,  I am locked into  a performance with  death. I am exhausted and angry  as I  watch  this thief of life steal everything that is and was your Nana and my mum, just as I  stood helpless as you  too  were locked into  this grim  dance of reality  that faces us all.

The purloiner  of life has taken the light from her blue eyes, made them red ringed and pale, her smile just a memory ,  as she waits , she has disappeared within her own body  as it stubbornly  clings to  life and the loved ones around her . She is  caught between the notes as the music of death  is played, no  longer having the strength to walk , sit or feed herself  without help , her pride of independence, privacy, modesty  gone , slowly drained buy the vampiric interloper and yet it seems that is not enough-  still the dance partner of death  continues the performance, sapping her of what is left of her , cruel in its movements  as the tune reels and swirls, no  respite or quarter given.

 

The difference with  you, my  darling son  there  was another dance partner , who  lent strength  to  my  body  and soul- that of HOPE.  Hope was my  partner,  the hours of driving, the meals, the days and nights of  care, the medicines  , doctors and trials  would work . Parallel days with  the dance I am  once again intertwined , unable to   find escape cold grasping fingers refusing to  let  me go, crushing my  heart. Another August, September , October and the dance continues , the music raucous and disjointed – a cacophony  of jarring notes , breaking the peace.

October 3rd , the last time you  were home  with  your family, filled with  hope that Houston  would be the answer to  stopping the dance, but hope, although strong in our hearts, was not enough to  combat the “danse macabre” …… and now once again the robber of life  has entered our home and our very  beings..

and ripped from us joy , hope and laughter.  I love you  Chris  and I  know you  will be here for your  Nana  as this final  dance ends…………

Chris Ritchey Source

Paula Tobias – A Woman of Worth- 2018

Paula Tobias,  my  dear friend, one who  fought  bravely  the obscenity  of ovarian cancer  for 5 years.

https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2013/03/27/you-have-cancer-paulas-journey-shared/

Paula,  had  written about many  varied things over the years  just type Paula Tobias in the search box. My  dear friend  knew she would only  be able to  keep  her fight going for so  long, the disease and the treatments took their toll on her  more than she let the  outside world know.

A year before she passed she asked me to  do  two  things for her, to  write and give her eulogy at her celebration of life and to  oversee  the placement and landscaping of a bench which she had chosen . “Come Sit With  Me” that would look out over her beloved Lake Erie and the east side of Lorain.

Following is part of the eulogy  for Paula, so  those that read this blog outside of this city  will hopefully  understand how we have lost a woman who  was of “worth” not just to  her friends and family  but to  her community :

 

“I loved Paula and she was “there” during my worst days- my strength-, helping me through my darkest hours

a self-portrait Chris Ritchey

https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2009/12/25/christmas-the-day-after-chris-miss-christmas/

Paula- kind, loving…… and there.

Her words “anything I can do? Were her mantra, it didn’t matter how busy or what was going on in her own life she was there.

The loves of her life Frank, Jean and Liz were always first in her thoughts and actions. Paula fought so hard to beat the obscenity that is cancer, not just for herself but for them, her mom and the rest of her wonderful family. Paula put up a fierce battle with grace and quiet strength just as she had done throughout her life.

 

A life that touched so many of us….. in such positive ways , she would see a need and would try her best to meet those needs. Paula saw a need in Lorain and the nurturer she was…. Ran in 2007   as mayoral candidate for Lorain……. She called me from her car ….

“Luvvey! I am on my way   to the BOE to pull petitions for Mayor – this should be a surprise to some!!!!!

http://blog.cleveland.com/wideopen/2007/09/profile_paula_tobias_lorain_ma.html

Unknown in politics, she still managed a very successful campaign as an “Independent” running 2^nd to the Democratic candidate and overtaking the sitting Republican candidate. Both parties having great respect for her –  her commitment and love of her community. She added class to   the campaign

 

Such was Paula’s influence and respect among all political parties she continued with soft-spoken strength crossing over and through political parties making a difference in this city she truly loved.

Always an advocate for Lorain… There she would be at City Council meetings   and reporting on them …. holding up placards when the Bascule Bridge took so long in getting repaired to filling potholes…She researched  a new machine and introduced that machine to Lorain by bringing ii into the city  .. Pitch Patch Paula putting on overalls and her personal hard hat and filling the test pot holes herself. . It took a while but Lorain has now a similar machine.

 

Paula turned her hand to being a blogger….. her thoughts and hopes for Lorain are still there on the internet waiting to be acted upon.

Paula was also on the Board of Directors for the Lorain Port Authority   bringing with her historical knowledge, passion and common sense. Paula was involved in so many of the situations good, bad and beautiful because she was “there for her beloved Lorain. She wanted the visitor to Lorain to be welcomed with inviting neighborhoods.

https://locophotogblog.wordpress.com/category/paula-tobias/

YES! Paula was there, her style was quiet determination, softly speaking sense – little notes baked goods and chicken soup if needed accompanying her lovely smiles/ .

I will so miss the lilt in her voice as she would call

“Luvey??? Do you need anything/”. I still hear her voice in my mind….

In all those terrible months after her diagnosis not once did she complain to me about her battle, the physical and emotional cost.

Paula, truly remarkable in her compassion for others asked not for sympathy for her own plight, putting on a brave face and smile. Paula became a volunteer to help other cancer patients through their journey as she fought her own battles, I remember saying to her-

I just don’t know how you are doing this you have much more bravery than I

she smiled and said I just want to help because I KNOW the journey they are on…..

How many times she offered me quiet respite from my life- to join her in her beautiful home for an afternoon by her fire or a summer evening on the lake .

Oh the days her dining room and sun porch tables fair groaned with the weight of delicious foods as she invited people to share the beauty of the lake and the hospitality of her family. Paula, nurturing, loving, protecting and intensely passionate with all she held dear.

I have–.. to remind me of her… and those times.. a small antique dining room side board,…… goodness knows where my husband purchased it……… BUT I realized whilst helping myself to food at one of those banquets that Paula and Frank had the rest of the dining room set…. my little side board was a perfect match for her set.

We laughed about my having the missing piece .. a coincidence or fate? the missing piece– her dining room set not complete…. and now my darling Paula is the missing piece., our lives will not be the same   and we are now incomplete .

Paula my words cannot do justice to the gracious, inspiring , loving and kind woman the epitome of a “lady” I came to love so very much – I know your pain has passed— which is our only consolation as we have to say goodbye. I love you as does everyone who was touched by your very soul and that is a wonderful legacy … Fare well my friend…………

The Bench — to  be continued.

Sept. 3rd – The Bubble- Chris Ritchey

 

August– and the week of hell as far as memories go ( and come) has been left behind for another year. The wedding anniversary  , your birthday  and mine  now in the past once more. I live in a self-imposed  bubble, especially  now ,with  your  Nana slowly  disappearing from this existence.

I haven’t left this house for much  more than an hour at a time for weeks, and this house has become my own “living in a bubble,” surrounded by the people and things I  love most. I let  very  few intrude in the fragile existence  I  am living .

 

I have stopped letting in the distraction of “other lives” whilst I  currently  deal with  life and death  in this house. The crime, the angst, the annoyances of people , politics and  lifestyles  that I  cannot  do  anything about outside these walls  , even writing and documenting has been relegated to  another existence.

I  close  the windows , turn on the air-conditioning not only  to  deal with  the heat of August days  but to  add a sound barrier to  my  bubble  – to  defend against the intrusion of the “noise “of a people without respect for others in this neighborhood. I don’t want to  deal with them or anyone not welcome to  come into  my  bubble. I am dealing the best way  I  know how to  get through.

 

I  have taken some time to  look at “your book” – No  Limits –  still stuck after so  many  chapters, looking for strength  to  continue , it seems I  have limits .

– and I  am reminded that for  30  years I lived without “knowing you “, you  were not a part of this existence  and then you came into  our lives  and left all too soon ,  and I miss you   so much . Most of those  that knew you in your all too short existence  have  relegated you  to  a mere memory  , if that anymore. Your life ,floating as a bubble on the wind ,has left their existence  and eventually  has disappeared, a name on a headstone ,in a place not of your liking or choosing……. . you  are only  bright ,living  and  colorful in our little universe.

This  loss of you from memory  will be  repeated  in all our lives. We are all  only  remembered   for as long as “living memory ” is in play. When your Nana passes so  will all the lives of the people she loved , knew and shared her  life with  when  she was young, she is the last one left to  remember those times, people and places.

Eventually  we all  will be forgotten, relegated to  some cemetery  or plaque  that will fall into  disrepair and get buried over and forgotten, unless of course you  are famous or infamous enough to  be documented  for some great or terrible deed or happenstance of life.  Life consigned to  a  shelf in a library, computer, television program, “history” interpreted , discussed and revised .

The happiness and love you  brought into our lives is not fleeting and neither is the gutting pain left behind  after your leaving…….. the love endures …. and so  do  you in my  fragile bubble like  world.

 

August 3rd- continuation- Chris Ritchey

You  would think after all this time I would run out of things to  share about you  and the fact you  lived but as life “continues” I find, far from being at a loss to find subject matter  , everyday  continues with  you .

Recently,  another mother wondered about whether people  felt she should be “over her grief by  now”  another  if there is a time limit to  being broken?

Because we are broken, and the pieces of us are held together with  a very tenuous glue.  The slightest “wobble of a memory “ entering into  one’s day  can see us picking up  the pieces and trying to  put ourselves back  together in order to  be on “life’s display”, hoping those we meet , work and socialize with  will not notice the cracks. Broken can make people uncomfortable, because  they too are not immune from losing a son or a daughter and we  are constant reminders that can happen.

As your  Nana is “transitioning” and I  am once again “caring” with cooking special foods, diets, changing sheets every  couple of days and giving medications ( you  too were prescribed) the glue is hardly  doing its job most days. It is probably  a good thing I  am not interacting with  people at the moment because  I am not handling  being  broken in “two” .

What little patience and tolerance I  had before this latest life event has disappeared. I have become selfish  with  my  time and energy. Telemarketers have found that to  call me subjects them to a tirade of “language” not generally  associated with  one of my  age and upbringing. They  have become my  relief valve, something I  need,  so  I  don’t shatter   altogether.

As I  looked on your Nana’s face this morning I was reminded of the charcoal drawing you  made of her when she was 85 looking out of a window. She was quite annoyed. “Chris you  made me look 95 not 85” but your artwork prophesied the future as today the portrait is a true likeness as she continues and slowly disappears from this world.

Loving you  continues- being broken continues ….

photo -self -Chris Ritchey