September 20, 2013

Friday Lite

Paul Adams Hawkins, Christmas, 2006.


  • Paul, my ex-husband, was too weak to go to the Grand Canyon Tuesday where he was to be Artist in Residence starting this week.  Then during Wednesday, there were many phone calls as he began fading away.  This Thursday morning, he passed away peacefully at his home in Arizona.  “My village is going,” daughter Margot said.  Tracy, Paul’s number two agreed when I talked with her yesterday.

  • Opened a Prosebox space where I left a link to this blog.  I did remember to bookmark it here so I can find myself as well as all the wandering friends who are leaving Open Diary site.  So many friends one makes over the years, and as the site collapses we all find new homes.  I don’t want to lose all of them…my village, in a way.

  • Mammogram scheduled.  I also got a referral for my severe lymphedema.  The referral gave me the wrong number, but the Radiology Department gave me the number for the Lymphedema Clinic which hasn’t returned my call.  I often wonder now what would have happened five years ago when the Lymphedema Clinic was suggested.  I didn’t know what they were talking about so did nothing.  Ah, reality.

  • My friend Bobbie is driving down today.  Her mother has reached the end-stage of her Alzheimer’s.  Bobbie wants to see her for the last time as she could go at any moment.  I’ll go out with her if she wants me there, or she can come by here later.

  • In a way, this entry really isn’t Friday Lite.  Perhaps it’s Friday Village.  It does take a village to raise kids, to keep friends, to share lives.  Bobbie commented that being with Mikey as he died was the hardest thing she had ever done.  I just miss everyone in our villages this week:  Mikey first, Don, Paul, and now Bobbie’s mother who I knew as a mother.  It feels odd to have had my father and grandma die in 1966, and my mother die in 89….so long ago, yet I feel so divorced from it all.  Yet they were my village.

  • 14 comments:

    1. If your village washes away in a storm, you must move or rebuild. Only way to go forward.

      At least you had a relatively cordial relationship with your EX. I can't talk with mine without getting angry all over again.

      I need to learn more about lymphodema. Dianne

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    2. Sorry about Paul. He really hung in there. Glad your daughters got to see him.

      And yes, our villages do decrease throughout our lifetime -- at least the originals do. Perhaps we should think of the village as being dynamic - waxing AND waning through our lives. Blessings, K

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    3. Sorry about Paul (and all of your friends) - it is so good that the girls got to see him one last time. It is hard to feel connected to people these days with everyone scattered from OD.

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    4. It is hard to lose those we love, or even used to love. But we retain the good memories, and we often rebuild through the "villages" of those we've lost.

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    5. I am so very sorry for this. Hugs and blessings to everyone.

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    6. "The poem ends.
      Soft as it began.
      I loved my friend."

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    7. Time waits for no man. We have all of those who touch our lives and we do not like the big hole they leave even if we had disagreements with them. Sounds like you ARE havING a swiss cheese week. Amazing that he was an artist in residence at such an elder age.

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    8. Thinking of you in the midst of this loss of someone who was part of the fabric of your life. Yes, Friday village would be apt. In these days our personal villages really are defined relationally, not geographically.

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    9. I'm sorry for the loss of your ex.....I know how it feels....I am watching my husband fade.....daily.....

      hugs and tears to you and your family.

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    10. Yes, we truly do have villages, not only the people themselves but also their relationships to each other as well as to us. As people die, or even simply move away, the connections break and the remaining village becomes less vibrant. I'm sorry for the losses in your village.

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    11. I would not be the woman I am today if it were not for PAH and you and your daughters...you helped form my young adulthood...my love to all of you. I will place a tribute to PAH in the Temple of Remembrance at Burning Man next year...Kay

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    12. Sorry that your village is depopulating. You're a caring lady --

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    13. I'm so sorry for your loss, Mage. I know he was still very special to you. Hugs to you.

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    14. I'm so sorry, Mage... There's so much sadness here. I hope there's a rainbow this weekend for you.

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