Posts filed under ‘grief’
July 3rd – Life Changes- Chris Ritchey
Regular readers will notice that for the past weeks the only posts have been my promised ” I will write as best I can your story , Chris” until there is a closure…..…
Oh! there have been plenty of things happening in this neighborhood, this city , the state and country and even the world that would set my fingers flying in years and months gone by.
I have reached a place of “sigh” everything seems to be too much to bear, too much to handle and apathy has set in. One of the reasons is life changes ,here in this house and the losing of a wonderful friend, Paula Tobias. Death and dying – I am so tired of watching those I love die by increments with nothing I can do or say to make a difference.
I am at war with death in the form of a bird- a huge Blue Heron who found the pond.
He has become my angel of death silently swooping down , waiting , watching to strike. As beautiful as he is , he is now the enemy . I wait for him in the mornings and late evening since I first saw him a month ago. He has no fear, intent on reigning havoc upon the habitat in the pond whether it is fish or frogs .
The pond where you put my Mother’s Day present – the “Ghost Koi “ that very last time .
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2010/03/19/the-ghost-in-the-pond/
The koi is huge, a good 24 inches , he glides stealth like through the water. I was surprised this Ghost Koi , no larger than the span of my hand when you released that May day, has become the size he has . I guess I should have researched him – As I read about this Ghost Koi, I had a funny feeling YOU did research his characteristics and thought it would be funny to land your mother with a giant fish, somehow it fitted with your sense of humour. Big fish little pond !
“Jumbo sized Koi grow up to 34 to 36 inches long and 40Lbs . Does the size of the pond hinder a Koi’s growth? The size of a pond will not stop a Koi from growing. The size of the pond, along with other factors like health, feeding, water temperature and water quality affect the speed of their growth.
https://www.koiacres.com/koi/faq.html
The Heron killed at least two of the large gold-fish before I could act.
I quickly purchased a Heron net to put over the pond, in the 4 decades we have had the pond we never had a problem , it was intentionally built deep with steep sides to keep away the critters. This latest pond you dug for me , moaning all the time as I remember.
I have watched, as this beautiful angel of death circles , lands silently , he and I watching the other , the net raised higher , road blocks of obstacles put in so he can’t find a place to “fish”. He has gotten through the net , knocked down the supports , there is no giving up with this bird.
He adjusts his flight path and landings, picks his moment .
He waits in the early mornings on the roof of the surrounding garages and homes, leaving his calling card , looking for a way through the netting and me.
He was here at 5:30 am this morning, this bringer of death, haughty and proud but like death I too can wait , a Mothers’ Day Koi has become more than just another fish………
I would like to think your “Ghost Koi” will continue and I can at least do something to save it from this particular ‘Angel of Death”- our love of you never fades or dies…….
June 3rd – delete- Chris Ritchey
Artwork Chris Ritchey
Hard weeks, when even writing is no longer cathartic. Always months of anniversaries of this and that…. May and June full of them. Some were happy but in the dying times most are met with “wanting to just get through” to the other side. The “what if” things had turned out differently , “memories that should have been” dissolved into the murky waters of time and reality rippling out into nothingness.
And yet the days of memories linger on the edge of our reality , the present. As I wait for the pink rose blossoms to once again surround the fountain (you purchased as my “thank you “) mingles with the memory of you carrying it piece by piece that June day to place it where it still sits- I see you the way you carried yourself, muscles taut across your back as the cast concrete weighed upon those arms recently pumped with chemo.
I see you sitting on the edge of the pond slipping in the “Ghost Koi” that Mothers’ Day . The Koi that is now as long as my fingertips to my elbow. He/she slips silently through the waters just a glimpse of the past melding with the present. The reality of missing you and wanting to see you , hear your voice, laughter to make me smile through the grief that is always there waiting…….
I can’t “delete” those memories and the hundreds of them that assail with every passing day. They hurt , even the very good ones but they are you so they can be borne ….
I can and have deleted people from my mind journey – the ones that have caused hurt, they barely exist in my world except when I bring them to the fore because they are mentioned by others – control , alt , delete . I can control those memories . It is if they belong to a different lifetime and actually they do ….. they are the purveyors of wickedness personified , selfishness undiluted and have no room in the “what if”………
Another 3rd, another month another year but you are loved beyond all tears….
May 3rd- Words are all I have- Chris Ritchey
Words- text- communication through a written language. Reading was always difficult for you as a little boy you were at the beginning of a local failing school system. A system that had to show progress, so although you had the extra classes , they passed you through as completing their grant driven reading programs. It wasn’t until the 5th grade we found out , when I had you privately tested, just how bad the problem was. Three years of catch-up and a change to private education.
Those years were hard for you , you thought you must be “stupid”. However, you also developed a skill of communicating “visually” . Eventually reading caught up with your ability to use your art to communicate. You found a niche for your talent at Lorain County Community College https://www.lorainccc.edu/
and on the advice of the college you transferred to Cleveland Institute of Art
artwork Chris Ritchey
It was at the students art show at Cleveland Institute of Art , I was looking at some of your designs etc. I noticed a couple of mistakes in the text. I spoke to the your instructor that evening about the mistakes in the text. He looked at me and said :
“that is not a problem , we can teach and correct spelling etc. what I can’t teach is what your son has, his ability , creativity and talent. I will give a an assignment to the group – “come up with three different advertising concepts on a given product/ client within a week” – Chris, will come back within two days with 10 entirely different takes. I can’t teach that……
Eventually you gained a position as Art Director for Wyse Advertising .
Apparently , according to your boss at the time, you were poised to do great things in advertising … we will never know…. but Wyse were wonderful to you during that terrible time of your illness.
I do remember that first year you worked for Wyse you were asked to do the ad for them in the annual “Torchlight” Membership Directory
The monthly AAF-Cleveland Portfolio features the latest in industry development and trends, association insights and updates, and achievements of local members. “Torchlight,” our annual membership directory, is an invaluable “Who’s Who” reference manual of members, agencies, and services in Cleveland advertising.
The directory was in your portfolio and the ad………. text, words …….. “scan of the full-page ad that appeared in the Torchlight”
Artwork Christopher Ritchey
But there aren’t any words that were so important as the last words you wrote to me – even with the spelling mistake…….I carry them with me every day
Mother’s Day is coming, once again tinged with tears and bitter-sweet ———– I love you…………I need to finish writing the book if I can find the words
April 3rd – Trilogy Trigger- Chris Ritchey
Chris Ritchey- CIA
This past month has been particularly difficult, losing my dear friend Paula to the obscenity that is cancer, the “hell is other people” neighbors with their form of obscenity invading what little space we have. It is what is called “life” for want of a description. As another departed friend used to say “everyone has a story” and yet another ” there is no laughter in hell”, but then again you would have to believe in a heaven if you believe in hell.
Easter was this past weekend , another holiday I hypocritically celebrate for the sake of loved ones and friends . I have pointed out my views and Easter/Eastre has been noted – another pagan holiday utilized, blended, absorbed and morphed for convenience sake of whatever was the popular faith at the time https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2012/04/06/ahhhhhh-easter-eastre-resurrecting-memories-eggs-and-crabs/
To me all religion is another man’s myth dressed up for the masses of whatever century of which you happen to be a part.
Irony, not to be outdone this year, the weekend found Gavin’s 9th birthday and your Dad’s and Easter all falling together.
You Dad born on another Easter Sunday on the top of the kitchen table ( so the story goes) let alone being April Fool’s Day.
Triple play in memories flooded in- other Easters with Papa Teddy and Auntie Gladys coming down from Canada especially at Easter and Thanksgiving , they really were the closest thing to grandparents. Such love , such beautiful people. Your first Easter , you decided to crawl and Papa Teddy spent the whole time steering you away from the fireplace hearth, fascinated even then by flames.
Memories of you being taken to that “terrible to me now” church St. Mary’s Lorain https://www.parishesonline.com/find/st-mary-catholic-church-44052 by your godparents on Easter Sunday . Well…..up until the time you “shot the priest” with a pretend gun and something religious spilled as someone in the procession jumped and there was such a kafuffle apparently. I know you were never again taken to Easter Sunday services there.
To think that church would play such havoc in our lives bringing such anger and unkindness – due to you walking down that same aisle and the taking of any closure, denying our beliefs by your controlling “in law family”( Lombardi/ Vika and offspring) and the “bride” Angela Lombardi ( Ritchey) now Murphy
not to mention “their priest” Divis –
Sharing a laugh – but on whom?
There should have been overload in the confessional, one would think, although forgiveness is far from my heart. Ah! what meaning in this life today of a ‘mother’s curse” in days of myth and legend a powerful instrument met now with the word Karma??? Karma borrowed once more from an even older religion…. I wait ………
Gavin’s “birthday” or day of his birth – hoping against hope as you lay in that terrible Cleveland Clinic- the lab rat- being made to clinically die to “save you”. I had to leave you that night to be with your sister as a new life came into the world……….. torn once more………
Your Dad’s birthday – the years of playing pranks not just because it was April fools day but because your loved your jokes. The time you took out an ad in the paper selling the house . Yes! all memories , uninvited guests along with the ham, steaks, tulips and a missing space at the table.
And yet laughter and smiles, little boys and a girl looking for surprises, barely able to sit still as the grown-ups took forever to eat. Tales of other memories , other traditions , pastel eggs mixed in with camouflage eggs, a grandfather and his grandsons sharing a moment to remember. 
Yes all intertwined showing the colors and also the greyness of what we have become – I love you – we all do……..
March 3rd -It’s OK- Chris Ritchey
Reaching out- art work- Christopher Ritchey
It’s OK – (okay) the origin of OK has many theories https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/explore/what-is-the-origin-of-the-word-ok
but basically translated – Ok (okay) means it is alright, it is fine or will be OK – will be alright – will be fine.
When something traumatic happens either in real life or in tv / movie land – invariably , along with the hug and the patting on the back http://www.saywhydoi.com/the-back-pat-why-do-we-pat-on-the-back/ comes the words – “it’s OK”
No it isn’t OK really …. but like shaking hands when you meet someone it is something those who try to comfort do.
I found myself yelling at the television as yet another traumatized mother – having disaster over take her family – and the well-meaning friend , the “it’s Ok” tripping from their mouth for want of something to say – throw away words ….
NO it isn’t OK, it will never be OK – her “ok world” is no more – stop telling them it is OK- alright – you will be fine – just stop! hold them tell them they are loved
but I am here to tell you when you lose a son or daughter nothing is ever alright, fine or okay in your world ever again.
OK! well I maybe be making a mountain out of a molehill… and bitching about the human condition when we are at a loss for words and trying to be kind and give comfort but it cuts me to the quick when I see and hear those words spoken
The flawed Hand of the Healer by Chris Ritchey
AND it is not okay that my wonderful, talented, loving son with his whole life ahead of him- is nothing more than a memory- and in some cases not even that – whilst the dregs of mankind and other sons cause terror and destruction to the world’s children.
AND it is not OK that once again I am losing from my life a sweet, caring , selfless , sparkling wine of a woman to the obscenity of cancer- another family waiting and watching as she leaves us slowly. It is not OK that she is leaving whilst the cruel bitches of this world thrive………
It is NOT OK Chris that I am here and you are not…….. I love you
Feb 3rd -Helpless- Chris Ritchey
Heart of Thorns- artwork Chris Ritchey
Another February , and the beginning of the scream , the weeks of feeling totally useless and helpless . Walking in two worlds – trying to remain calm, positive and supportive for the journey thrust upon your young life. All the while my chest collapsing, jaw clenching to stop the tears and terror I was feeling from showing. The weeks and months after you passed trying to stop from going mad, running from the “black dog” of Churchill fame.
The emotional incontinence – staying close to home – not wanting to drive incase the sight of a young man in black Ford 150 truck would split my reality. I learned how to hide, how to suppress the emotional nightmare with tricks of the grief-stricken. We, who have lost our son or our daughter learn lessons no one should have to learn.
The nights when the dying days visit – the mind tools kicking in to temper the ferocity of memory so sleep can come. Turning a corner , one would think, but like the damned cancer it is there lying quietly , building upon itself. I thought I was managing quite well in the last few months and then- not cancer- but once again wanting and trying to get your Nana through a situation caused by bureaucrats. Weeks and months of fighting , trying to make sense of a situation beyond my control . Holding on, trying to be the Loraine I once was …. A bureaucratic wall was thrown up
I couldn’t get through , your Nana’s physical and emotional well-being compromised by an officious, pseudo-listener “gatekeeper” . After months of dealing with her ilk and they, not knowing or caring how this situation was causing such distress to a 98-year-old woman- as the phone was hung up – and I sat stunned – bewildered not knowing where to turn next.
BFA project
Chris Ritchey
And then it happened – the trigger- those feelings of the dying days were unleashed , not in waves but with a flood- overwhelming logic – nothing could stop the torrent- hours and hours of raw emotion, tears that just wouldn’t cease, the sobs that wracked were back – brought forth from their hiding place. Worried faces of family , concern , the questions upon furrowed brows.
Then just as “anger ” at the cretins of your bride’s family kept me upright in those days of total despair and surrender… anger once again surged through the dark and made me strong enough to continue- to fight back against the ignorance – the “people” inflicting pain upon those I love.
Your Nana survived the bureaucrats, thanks to help from those that did and do listen . And I realized once more the wound has not healed- the scar is still only surface deep and it waits…… because there is nothing I can do – even in anger- to see you walk through a doorway once more , hear your voice laugh with you and enjoy you being you………
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
August 2, 2018 at 10:58 pm 2 comments