Journal: 05/04/06

I finally got some real sleep last night. I’ve been stressed over the money situation and now that its resolved, if only temporarily, I went to bed at 1:30 AM instead of 4:00 AM, and slept through until I awoke at 12:00 PM. I’m sure the stress will return, there are bills to pay and money to find, for the moment though, I can breathe again. Having Joann’s ashes home seems to make the apartment a little less lonely. I got up this morning and even though I was alone, I could imagine her being there as well. It’s a little crazy maybe; I’ll get over it eventually as I continue to adjust to her not actually being there. At least I’m feeling as though I am getting a grip again, and that’s a good thing.

Three Years at Snug Harbor

Today is the third anniversary of the date Joann, Bill and I moved into the upstairs apartment here at the motel. We happily inhabited the huge 2-bedroom apartment with a dining room, full-sized country kitchen and large bathroom for two-and-a-half years until the owners decided to remodel in 2005, cutting the apartment up into three large motel rooms. It’s the place where Joann and I were married in October 2004 and the scene of many happy Thanksgivings, Christmases with a tall, real tree and Easters with egg coloring and ham dinners. We moved out at the end of October 2005, storing the large amount of belongings we accumulated in the motel’s unused poolroom.

During the remodeling, Bill lived in a standard 1-bed room, Joann and I in another. The remodel took four months, during which time the owners built a large, well kitchen-equipped studio downstairs underneath our old place for Joann and I. Bill would move into the small single-bed room directly across from us with his own key to our place, so he could retain the use of our kitchen and remain a part of our little family. In the end, Bill was instrumental in watching over Joann in her final stages when I had to go to work in the time before I took a month off to keep care of her. We all moved into our respective places by February 6, 2006, and three days later, Joann went on her last trip to the hospital.

Joann loved the fact that the owners built a place just for us, and according to my specifications too. To her, this was her house, a place made for her and I. It was one of the reasons home-hospice, when the VNA offered it, was so attractive to her. She could live out the rest of her life in her new home, secure in the knowledge that it was truly built for her and I. Dying at home held a completely new meaning for her.

We named the original apartment Snug Harbor after an ancient building in Monterey, on Del Monte Ave., by lake El Estero, that was the old fisherman’s retirement home, "Snug Harbor" prominently displayed over the entrance door.. Snug Harbor, in that incarnation, was a place where indigent, elderly fishermen were placed at county expense to live out their lives in some comfort. Today it is a place where indigent, elderly farm workers live out their lives.

For Joann, Bill and I, Snug Harbor had a special meaning, it was—for us—a safe harbor in a raging economic storm where we had no place. Without the three of us, none of us could have rented the upstairs apartment, much less maintained it. It took the three of us together, to make it work. The apartment became our "Snug Harbor."

Look for the Backstory entry tomorrow for a clearer explanation of Snug Harbor.

Bill set up a special night for us when I got home from work tonight. He bought cards for the anniversary, one from Bill and I to Joann and one from Bill to me. I thought the former card was very sweet; he wasn’t sure that including Joann in the remembrance festivities was appropriate, I assured him that in every anniversary in the future, we would always include her; after all, we are still a family.

Journal: 05/03/06

Joann’s check popped up in my bank this morning. I stayed up until 4:00 AM, waiting with baited breath, to make sure it arrived to keep me out of financial chaos. This might be the last check though, I have to go apply for survivor’s benefits from Social Security soon and the cash flow may be interrupted. As Joann’s monthly check was the only income flow she and I had, if it shuts down, even for a month, I will not be in a good position. Bill buys the food in exchange for rent these days, but where will the beer and cigarettes (or nicotine tablets) come from?

Joann Comes Home

With the arrival of Joann’s check, I called the mortuary and bailed her out. She’s home now and sitting on a small table in the bathroom. Where she will ultimately be placed in the apartment is still a question, I expect to try a few different locations before finally settling on her special place. Bill suggested that we pair her urn with a live plant, creating a memorial-like space for her. I think she would have liked that. Because I have been tasked by her to spread her ashes with mine in some (hopefully) distant future, finding a stable place for her in our home is top priority.

Joann’s ashes proved to be a larger quantity than I envisioned, so the idea of putting her in the special vase she liked wouldn’t work. For the moment though, I’ll leave her in the brown plastic, rectangular urn she arrived home in while I try different places.

Finding a place for her in the apartment is a bit limited in scope, as I don’t think she would like being in a drawer. I don’t know that putting her someplace I think she wouldn’t like matters or not, but I imagine that it will be years before I stop treating her remains as I would treat her. At the same time, I don’t want her urn to be the focal point of my existence. She’s not on display and it would drive Bill and visitors to distraction to have her as a centerpiece. For a while, I had her sitting next to the laptop while I was writing this piece.

Having Joann back in the apartment turned out to be not as creepy as I envisioned it to be. I do find myself talking to the urn, but not obsessively, no more than I mutter to myself at times. As far as closure is concerned, I have the peace of knowing that I did complete this part of my promises to her, and in as short a time as I could. Even before her urn returned, I felt as though she was still part of our home, a presence I constantly feel and that isn’t diminishing. My memories are as strong as ever, but now that I have the physical essence of her in the apartment, the memories seem sharper, and if I need to remember in the future, all I have to do is look at her urn.

As a final note, I talked today to Joann’s son, David, and he said that his father, Joann’s first husband, died on April 25. It must have been a really bad April for David, losing both his parents in the same month. All he has left now are an aunt and uncle, the sister and brother of Joann, I don’t know about his grandparents or other relatives on his father’s side. David did say though, that he would come down in June to go through what is left of Joann’s things. My condolences go out to him.

Journal: 05/02/06

Back to work today, one day off really isn’t enough. I drink too much beer on my off days, so Tuesday is not much fun, but I do get to work on time. I didn’t do much of anything yesterday except the laundry, and I did drink quite a lot of beer.

Waiting for Money

I am impatiently waiting for tomorrow to roll around to find out whether Joann’s Social Security check will pop up in the bank. If it doesn’t, I’ll be in some serious trouble, not only with the bank because I’ve been taking direct deposit advances, but also because I’ve been borrowing to get Joann’s cremation expenses covered. I’m into the bank for $550.00, and another $600.00 for Joann’s expenses.

On the other hand, I’ll be able to take another advance, pay off the mortuary and start repaying the other people who helped out. This all hinges on whether or not Social Security was notified of Joann’s death, but as of this moment, I haven’t received anything in the mail to that effect. I haven’t started applying for my survivor’s benefits yet because I didn’t want to interrupt the cash flow. I’ll decide next fiscal month about notifying them, by that time I’ll have the death certificates also. It’s pins and needles all the way. Lovely thing to have on your plate with a mild hangover.

With Luck, Joann Will Be Coming Home Soon

Waiting with anticipation is always stressful for me, as it must be for everyone. The anticipation, as a child, of waking up on Christmas morning, the expectancy of a birthday party and presents, the excitement of waiting for the arrival of someone you haven’t seen in many years. For me, it is the anticipation of Joann coming home even if she is in a box filled with ashes.

If everything goes as planned, Joann may be home by tomorrow, or May 4 at the latest. She’ll be back in time for our three-year anniversary of Snug Harbor that Bill and I will celebrate. Her return will also afford me some much-needed closure, as I haven’t seen her since the mortuary picked her up three weeks ago. Yes, I’m excited that she’s coming home.

Journal: 05/01/06

No fires to put out today, even with all of the maids participating in the "Day Without Immigrants" boycott. That made for a nice day off where I could relax and drink beer until I was stupid. Bill made small steaks for dinner and we played cards afterward. I did accomplish the one thing I set out to do today, and remembered that there were several things to remember on this first day of May. I called my father in the late night when my cell phone is free, and he seems to be doing better than the last time I talked to him a couple of weeks ago.

Laundry Day

I did get the laundry done today. It’s nice to be able to use the motel’s big five-load washers and dryers, makes the job a one-shot process and I can go without having to do it more than once a month. When Joann was alive, I would do the laundry once a week during the motel remodel and Joann would put it away. Before the remodel, we had our own washer/dryer in the apartment and Joann could do laundry any time she wanted. This time I put away my own laundry. I haven’t done laundry in a month and after separating Joann’s things out, I was surprised that the load wasn’t larger. Guess I’ll have to get used to that. At least, using the motel’s laundry is a perk of the job and is free.

Sort of an Anniversary

Its May Day and many things happen, like the parades in Moscow before Russia went back to being Russia. The first day of May is also a symbolic entry-point into Spring, its almost like shedding the dreary days of rain that April brings and we know Summer is on its way. May 1, 2003 is also the day Joann and I first slept together, a short four days before she and I, along with Bill, rented the apartment we dubbed "Snug Harbor." Little did I know at the time, how the events in the first week of May three years ago would change my life, making it dramatically better than it had been in many long years.

This month looks to be a busy one for memories. So many things happened back in ’03 that laid the foundations for my current life, that I expect to spend a lot of time reminiscing. This was the month that Joann, Bill and I rented Snug Harbor, and Mother’s Day is two weeks away. May is also the month Joann went into the hospital for the first time—at least while we were living together—and represents the starting point of her decline into end-stage emphysema. This looks to be a busy month for memories.

Immigration Protest Day

May first is also "International Labor Day," and the appropriate time for the immigrant’s boycott. Everybody seems to be behind it, or not, as evidenced by watching the event unfold on CNN and Fox News. So we don’t have maids today, none of the stay-over guests seem to care a fig, and because it’s slow, we have plenty of rooms available. All of the maids will be back tomorrow to clean our rooms. It couldn’t have worked out better and people finally are getting sent a message about who really grease the wheels that run this country.

Journal: 04/30/06

The resident managers of the motel went to a wedding today and I took over early, at 10:00 AM. Sunday is traditionally slow in the afternoon anyway and with the managers gone, I took a little nap to compensate for getting up three hours early.

Tomorrow will be a fun day, it’s the national immigration boycott and mainly Latino people will join it. We gave the maids off as a gesture of support, so that means no maids tomorrow to clean rooms. Luckily, I’ll be home all day and it’s my day off, so I expect to be putting out fires in the morning. All of our maids will come in on Tuesday to clean rooms, we’ll just put the dirty vacant rooms "out of service" for the duration.

Going through the Sunday newspaper today I noticed that Mother’s Day is due two weeks from today and it gave me pause. All three of the women I’m used to celebrating Mother’s Day with are now all gone, Joann, Joann’s mother and my mother. May 14^th looks to be a long day. More on that on the fourteenth.

When My Schedule Suddenly Changes

Inertial coasting has been my life for the last three weeks. Although it looks as though I’m starting to surface from my shell-shocked state, I still have problems with radical change. Change, like when I suddenly have to stay an extra hour or two behind the front desk. Sometimes, the resident managers don’t let me know until the last minute, and it upsets my anticipated rhythm. I’m expecting to go home at 10:00 PM and now have to stay until midnight.

I know this is a petty thing, but I have been a bit fragile lately and sudden changes annoy me. I realize that I’m "on-call" all of the time, but that usually means after I go home or on my day off. Calling me at 9:00 AM to have me come into work at 10:00 AM when I normally would be in at 1:00 PM annoys me as well. Nevertheless, this annoyance factor is a new feature of my personality.

I think it is because I have been doing the "going through the motions" thing for the last three weeks and that I don’t have any real control over my space right now, I react oddly to sudden change. I rely on my time-driven touchstones so much that any deviation from the general daily plan causes me serious angst.

I hope that as I start to become motivated about taking control again, this facet of my personality will disappear. It drives me nuts that I feel that I have lost control over my life, but the grief I have been experiencing since Joann’s death completely excised whatever control I had before from me. Flexibility was always one of my hallmarks, and I have to get back there. Then, that will be a sign of recovery.

Journal: 04/29/06

Big Sur Marathon weekend gets into full swing, but the motel doesn’t fill up. Still, it was a busy day. People are simply not driving places these days. With gas up over $3.15 a gallon, everyone thinks about getting to work, not spending a day out of the city. As far as I know, all of the motels are having a bad time of it as the season moves into spring and summer. Luckily, because I work only for rent, I’m not affected. No cash changes hands and the space Bill and I take up doesn’t affect motel occupancy, giving the owners something of a free ride on my services. Recession and high gas doesn’t have an effect on my hours, thanks to this lifesaving arrangement.

What to do, What to Do?

I’m noticing that there are stirrings in the back of my brain that represent thinking and interest. This is mostly subconscious, but I’m actually starting to get bored again at work. Nine hours of surfing the web and writing this blog, are beginning to wear thin. Something is tickling my intellectual curiosity.

Maybe this is the thaw of my winter of grieving, getting me ready to move into spring and blossom. That would be a nice change from the inertial coasting I’ve been experiencing. I’ve learned that when I start to get bored with the same old thing every day, then its time for a change. I welcome this change because it means that I have passed a point in my grieving process that allows me to less centered around the event of Joann’s dying, and focus more on myself.

This too will be a process; it may take awhile to get back to who I am now. Widower-hood is still a scratchy suit, but not so much as it was a few weeks ago. Now that my survival instinct has kicked back in, I expect to start accomplishing those promises I made to Joann, instead of just being a slug in the garden of life.

To this end, the question that runs through my mind most frequently is "where do I start?" No small pondering, that. I have to reassemble my life from the shards of myself that lay on my life’s floor. I certainly do not feel complete and just because I’m thinking about taking an interest in life again doesn’t mean I’m whole, simply beginning the road to gluing all those pieces of myself back together. A journey starts with but one step, though, and I believe that I’m about ready to take that first step.