Journal: 11/17/06

Six days left before Thanksgiving and excitement fraught with anticipation is building between Bill and I. This is our first holiday in two years that we have spent in our true home, Snug Harbor. Last year, while the motel renovations that laid waste to the original Snug Harbor were progressing, ultimately yielding Snug Harbor II and Bill’s own room across the tarmac from it, Joann, Bill and I were living in two single-bed rooms elsewhere on the property. The holidays were simple that year, none of the elaborateness of our first two holidays upstairs in the big apartment, but we made do.

Last year, Thanksgiving was a trip across the street to the Monterey Fairgrounds and the free (donations accepted) turkey dinner put on by the Rotary, Kiwanis and other assorted charities. Although we three felt a little strange about partaking of a meal meant for the elderly, indigent and homeless, we gave a small cash donation to ease out discomfort and were thankful for a dinner on the scale of one’s we used to cook and serve for ourselves in our own home. The experience reminded us of whence we came two-and-a-half years earlier and we could give thanks for the relatively minor inconvenience that brought us to the fairgrounds that year.

Ultimately our new places were readied, a new kitchen built from scratch, and home cooking once again became a central event in our day. At least the three of us were together last year for the holidays, regardless of our circumstances. We weren’t homeless, though it felt like it upon occasion, we were just in a holding pattern between homes.

The Turkey Arrives

Today Bill brought the turkey home. Much like thanksgiving in our first two years in Snug Harbor, great amounts of detailed strategic planning have gone into this year’s feast-to-come. Every little element has been picked up, stared at from every angle, sniffed at, weighed and when satisfied or appropriate changes made, placed gently back into its respective position in the grand scheme of Turkey Day. It is during the holiday dinner planning for Thanksgiving and Christmas that we are revered (or reviled) for the sheer degree of our anal perfectionism, and the amount of time spent accomplishing it.

Remembering feasts of the past, Bill wanted to get our turkey early and solidly frozen so it could spend five days in our refrigerator thawing at a temperature guaranteed to keep bacteria at bay. We didn’t want to wait until the last minute because we fanaticized about a twenty-five pound bird and experience told us that two days before the big day, everything in the store freezers would be well picked over yielding only scrawny, twelve-pounders or worse. The Bill and Scot shopping philosophy goes like this: when the price is right, buy the biggest. At Safeway, the price was right; any turkey over twelve pounds cost only eight dollars. Additionally, we have the will to eat and freezer space for, six months of leftovers.

The turkey weighed in at twenty-three-and-a-half pounds, the same as we’ve had for past Thanksgiving dinners. Bill even worked with one of the meat-counter people a couple of days ago to make sure that the right bird would be waiting. I helped him take it out of the car’s trunk and put it into a pan, and even shrink-wrapped, I could tell that this turkey stood a good chance of being the best one Bill’s ever cooked. Homemade Thanksgiving this year looks to be a reality.

There is always a counterbalance to euphoric expectancy and that is reality; much like gleeful Christmas suspense to children is mitigated by the knowledge and earnest counting of the school days left to slog through before opening presents. For Bill and I, it is that this year he and I will be by ourselves. Joann and Bill’s friend Jeanne will be absent from our table, but not our hearts.

Journal: 11/12/06

My NaNoWriMo 2006 effort moves forward. Where before I thought I would stay behind the point where my word count should be until the last week of the competition, today I realized that I am actually maintaining a fairly steady pace and am exactly where I should be. Cause to, if not celebrate, at least relax a little.

Out of Sight, Not Out of Mind

Thoughts about Joann are still distracting me though, and I have been trying to find a way to change my environment so I don’t feel closed in.

Certainly, I took on a large project when I decided to turn this blog into a novel. When I relocated Joann’s memorial, it wasn’t to put her out of my sight or mind, it was to simply reclaim her side of the bed. That was an act of simple reassertion of my space, and a tacit acknowledgement that she was no longer physically central in my life. A minor bit of rearrangement, a little bit of sleight-of-hand.

However, turning the blog into a book, complete with back-story and hindsight-driven commentary, requires that I, once again, immerse myself back into the indecision, pain and turmoil of the days when Joann and I went through Home Hospice together. Keeping a grip has not been as easy as I originally imagined it would be.

I am also of the mind that I will remain this way for a long, perhaps very long, time. Just because the decision has been made to spread her ashes doesn’t mean a remedy comes as part of the package. In some ways I think more about Joann now than I did before I decided to spread her, but maybe that’s just my imagination under the influence of writing the book. Maybe not. Only time will tell about that. Meanwhile, I struggle through the jungle of memories trying to bring order and some sense to history.

Journal: 11/07/06

Things are moving along and it looks like Joann will be getting her wish soon. Otherwise, my life paces relentlessly onward, flat as a glassy, windless sea and about as interesting.

Date for Scattering Joann’s Ashes

Several days ago, I called David Shorey, Joann’s son, and discussed the idea with him that it was time to spread Joann’s ashes. I guess enough time has passed since her death because he seemed to be ready for the concept as well. Time is distance, and distance is a good thing whether running away from or moving forward. For me, it seems to be a bit of both when it comes to Joann.

Today I received an email from him proposing December 9 as the date for spreading Joann’s ashes. I replied that any date worked for me and that was as good a day as any. I figure I can take off any time I need to, so long as I get enough notice.

With this decision made, I feel a small amount of relief. Over the last couple of weeks, since the lengthy discussion with Joann’s memory (or ghost, whichever) I have become ever more certain that this is the right thing to do. I simply do not know how much longer I can hold onto the physical remains without driving myself crazy or stressing out. At the present, in my mind she remains mired in some undefined limbo, like a body in my closet, dead but still there. I desperately need to get her out of that state and into a concrete memory instead of paddling my boat in circles in the middle of the River Styx. It’s not about kicking her out of the apartment; it’s about completing her process so I can begin mine.

I welcome the promise of the next month, as much as I dread the coming of Thanksgiving, but having a lot of time to condition myself to spreading Joann’s ashes doesn’t seem like a bad thing. In the meantime, there are many details to work out and a continuing email conversation with David to facilitate it. Like a slow train wending its way along a mountainous track, I can see the light at the end of this tunnel. I just wonder how much daylight I’ll have before the next tunnel arrives.

NaNoWriMo 2006 Update

So far this year, no NaNoWriMo-killing, motel-related incidents have cropped up. Writing has been a daily, full sailing ahead, sort of project. I started out with a story, an outline (this blog) and a determination to bring Joann’s story (and Bill’s and mine as well, by association) to the printed page in a few months. I haven’t always been consistent with my word count, sometimes hitting my daily allotment, sometimes not. In the end though, I’m confident I’ll make my fifty thousand words on time.

Moving the novel along isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. There have been a few teary days in the beginning as I revisit painful times and places, remember the trials of having to completely reverse my way of thinking about Joann’s disease and what I could do and not do anymore. Guaranteed there will be many more of these times ahead over the remainder of the month, but it is also a cleansing act I do now, and I’m the cleaner for it.