How knowing I'm helpless is a comfort.

Helpless should simply mean "without help" but, like most things, it's not that simple.
My good friends at merriam-webster.com tell me that helpless is:
1: lacking protection or support : defenseless
2 a: marked by an inability to act or react b: not able to be controlled or restrained

I have been talking to a few friends lately about how out of control my life feels lately and the effect that it is having on me.

In case you don't know my roommate just moved out, and although I've been searching through friends and craigslist for a month I have yet to find a new roommate and am faced with either a tremendously high rent that will carve into my savings for July or spend every moment not at work packing up and finding a place to move to (still an incredibly daunting and expensive task.)Or stay for the month of July with the tremendously high rent and STILL have to pay moving expenses.

I just re-did my budget last month based on my new (lower) income (my pay is commission based) and was looking at only having $200 for non-fixed expenses each month, and so any place with higher rent is definitely a bad thing if I want to continue to eat.

In addition, my birthday is tomorrow, the 16th, and it also marks the one year anniversary of the last time I saw my Dad...He passed July 1st, 2008.

Talking to a friend late last month about all the stress in my life she suggested I ask around and find someone to host my birthday for me so that I wouldn't feel it another burden. I asked and immediately someone offered, and I was relieved that I wouldn't have to worry about it. But subsequently her apartment was broken into and then her father took ill and she flew home for a bit. So she just finally called today to say we could still have it this Saturday at her place. I'm not sure I want to even try, since it will mean a lot of work planning it myself, and I really don't know how I'd handle it if it was not a success.

To go along with my housing drama I have my mother's housing drama in that she is planning on moving this summer from the house I grew up in across town to the house she grew up in. This means that at some point I need to go back to Ohio and bring back even more "stuff". It also means that I've talked to my mom a lot about all of the stress she's under in figuring out the moving, trying to find time to deal with two households worth of belongings that need to be sold off and trying to get the best price for the stuff possible. They had an auction yesterday and made less money than they had hoped and the auctioneers did not take away the excess as my Mom had thought they would. When I expressed my disappointment in this (which is really just for the added stress on my mom) my brother got defensive and "virtually" hung up on me.

While discussing my feelings with a friend and saying how much I hated not being able to control all of these things in my life my friend commented on how hard it is to be "helpless". A little light went off in my head. Just like when I was first mourning my father and was in some way comforted when, on occasion, a feeling came up that I had a name for--sad, or angry, or isolated, etc. Somehow knowing that what I really feel is helpless (marked by an inability to act or react) is a comfort.

Graveside humor

I thought about posting something on a lighter note but I'm still pre-occupied with loss, so I thought I'd combine the two and document a few of the things that have made me laugh in the past month.

1--
Two days after my father died my mom was sitting on the couch and her phone rang with what was surely another person wanting to express their condolences. She turned off the ringer and sat and looked at it. It replied with a friendly beep telling her there was a new voice message. She shook her head. "I hate listening to my voicemail...It keeps making me cry."
"Yeah, I'm having the same problem with my phone" I replied. "You Nate?"
He shook his head, "Yep, me too."
"They really should get that fixed."
"Or maybe make it an option...like the 'Airplane Mode'...they could have a 'No Cry Mode' option."

2--
Three weeks later...a few days after my grandmother died my friend Mara called me. She lost her mother earlier in the year after a long fight with pancreatic cancer and apparently lost her grandfather in the previous year as well.
"Hi Mara."
She wasted no time: "You know Valerie, it's not a competition."
I didn't even pause a moment before replying, "Well you know, they say when you learn a new skill you should practice it right away..."

3--
We visited my father's burial place a couple of days after the funeral and saw the scattered flower arrangements that had been left there. We said a few prayers and made a few comments about what we could put there up until October when we could have a gravestone put in. My dad had a degree in Geology and we pondered whether the collection of radioactive rocks in the garage would kill the grass or "disturb his neighbors". Before leaving I left something on the grave--a can of RedBull--one of a flat Dad had bought at Sam's Club and often drank. "Hey Dad, enjoy...you know 'RedBull gives you wings!'"

4--
The funeral procession for my Dad's Funeral was 80 cars long. We had a motorcycle cop ride along to stop traffic at intersections but still had to stop for a train, an ambulance, and a firetruck. I pondered that although Dad would hate driving this slow "he sure would like running all these reds and probably would love holding up this much traffic as well"

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I cry.

Three years ago I had my first "real" run-in with loss--my grandfather died on July 4th. It really hit me hard and to this day I can get teary-eyed thinking about him.

Three and a half weeks ago on July 1st my father unexpectantly died of a heart attack. A week ago on July 20th my grandmother passed.

I won't tell you about all the feelings I've gone through. I can't. The words don't exist. As I felt things I occasionally wanted the comfort of naming them and realized I couldn't--some things are too big, too deep, too individual for words.

I cry now. Easily. It doesn't take much and it just overwhelms me. Perfectly natural under the circumstances and the majority of the time I'm all right with it. But it is irritating not to be in control. It is annoying to know that I'm one random floating thought away from tears springing to my eyes. Even so I can usually shake it off. I can usually stop any stream of tears or sobbing. But generally only when other people are around--by myself I'm a mess. Without people there are no outside sources of interest or amusement or distraction to keep me from following that random thought down whatever path it takes me down. And often there aren't even thoughts. I don't know why I'm sad, what particular thing I'm sad about--the loss, the loneliness, the grief, or some other mystery sadness that crept up and (in the paraphrased words of one of my favorite novels) "dropped stone loneliness eggs in my heart."

So if I call you up and just want to talk but I have nothing to talk about...perhaps now you'll know why.

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Stolen content from Family is Borrowed, right?

My brother's blog post kind of sums it up:

July 100% Not Fun

In a recent survey done by the Brown family of Westerville Ohio, July was overwhelmingly declared the least fun month of the year so far. (See graph below)




Nate Brown was overheard saying, “I’m not really superstitious, but I’ll be happy when this month is over.”

I think I freaked out the guy at the grocery store a bit today when he unwittingly asked me how I was doing.
“I’ve been better.”
“Oh…bad day?”
“Month really.”
“Oh…….Well the month is almost over.”
“Yeah, well, hopefully no one will die in August.”
[crickets chirp]

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Planning

So I've spent the last couple of days visiting cemetaries and funeral homes and my new 3 person family (my mom, my brother and I) are working on all the arrangements with an assorted army of people providing food and support from outside.

I really disliked the lady at the cemetary who kept "selling wrong" and driving me crazy by repeatedly telling us they were the cheapest around (value FIRST lady, then raise price AFTER the customer brings it up). She also kept throwing out the names of people on headstones and telling us how they died and acting as if we might recognize them because of their story ("Oh now, he was 19, he died last year in a car accident...He was in the back seat drinking and having a good time with his friends"). Weird!

The lady at the Funeral Home was amazing though: consumate professional. Brought up every item we might consider buying and why we might want it and how it is normally done. Listened thoughtfully as we explained how a Baha'i Burial and Funeral is "normally" done and asked appropriate questions. Simply told us our estimated expenses so far and noted that "You can keep that in mind if you like when looking at caskets."

Shopping for caskets and vaults (the concrete or metal box that surrounds the casket in the ground) was interesting. We ended up choosing a simple but elegant casket in Pecan (a lovely wood and my dad did love a good pecan pie). I was really tempted to ask if they used sustainable forestry practices but I was told I shouldn't. My brother and I were talking about asking for Pine as we figured that as Pallbearers it would be a little lighter. (Balsawood might create a bit too much drama if the bottom fell out ;) ) My brother also said Dad would really like the Scarlet and Grey "Brutus" version designed specifically for Ohio State fans.

I'm strongly lobbying for playing the Script Ohio marching band song (an Ohio State Marching Band tradition) when we bring the casket to the grave but Mom thinks it would be silly. I think it would be joyous, and the song always brought a happy tear to Dad's eye (no really!), I think it would be appropriate.

I understand that the Imperial March from Star Wars might be a bit too much, and border on silly, but I really wish we could do this. But it's more my Mom's day than mine.

Anyways, I have paperwork to do and lists to make.


Funeral services will be held at the Schoedinger Worthington Chapel, 6699 North High Street, Worthington, Ohio. Visitation will be from 9:00 - 10:00 a.m. and the service will take place from 10:00 - 11:00 a.m. There will be a procession from the funeral home to the Blendon Central Cemetery on the corner of Dempsey and Spring roads in Westerville. Following the internment a reception (approx. 1:00 p.m.) will be held at the Johnston Homestead at 164 Linabary Avenue, Westerville, Ohio.

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Prayers for the Departed

My cousin Aaron died about a month ago, and my Great Uncle Stu died last night. I haven't had any other friends or family die since July 4th a year ago when my grandfather died. Having two people die in such close proximity to each other has had me saying prayers for death and healing a lot more frequently than usual, and really thinking more about the importance of friends, family, and community.

In Africa I was told by several Baha'is in remote villages that even though they believed in the Baha'i Faith they did not want to become Baha'is and leave their churches because there were not enough other Baha'is close by, and when they died there would be no one to sing at their funerals.

I'm not sure I ever really understood the reasoning behind that until lately.

I've heard so often that the friends and family that bring food after a funeral are really a godsend, because the family is too stricken, stressed, or depressed to think about cooking and eating. And I've recently heard how the Baha'i community opened their homes to allow my family to stay with them in the days before my cousin's funeral. I heard how the Baha'is helped with the funeral and one member sang a song during the services. Even from a distance these things are really touching for me. It fills me with a lot of wistful happiness to know that people who are strangers to me could show such love, hospitality and warmth towards those I love and have loved. It helps me believe that the world is a little less cold and distant than it often feels.

I understand now that to a person in an African village, who sees death far more often than I do, who sees the women dressed in white every week, singing funerary songs, the prospect of dying and having no community available to sing songs at one's funeral and help their family to cope with the loss could be a much bigger deterrent than I had ever imagined.

I won't be able to attend my Uncle Stu's funeral this Wednesday, nor will many of those who loved him... But perhaps I will sing anyways.

O my God! O Thou forgiver of sins, bestower of gifts, dispeller of afflictions!

Verily, I beseech thee to forgive the sins of such as have abandoned the physical garment and have ascended to the spiritual world.

O my Lord! Purify them from trespasses, dispel their sorrows, and change their darkness into light. Cause them to enter the garden of happiness, cleanse them with the most pure water, and grant them to behold Thy splendors on the loftiest mount.

'Abdu'l-Bahá

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