Posts filed under ‘Love’
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
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.
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
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
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