Jim - Still Here

It has been 4 1/2 months since Jim passed. I think about him. When I do, sometimes it is reviewing the bad times and I realize I am still angry about those. Sometimes I think about the Twin Flames connection we had. Still have. There are some memories where the two connect.

In this memory I was mad at Jim for some reason. It could have been because of any combination of his drug use, drinking, or lying. We both acknowledged that in our pasts we were together in some form or another so in my present anger I told him that I have cut the cord. I was done. I wouldn't have him be a part of my future lives. Flabbergasted, he replied, "You can't do that!"

I said, "Yes, I can! I am done being there for you and then helplessly stand by as you continually make the wrong decisions. I'm not doing it anymore. It is so frustrating and it hurts me."

When I see a man that resembles Jim, I do a double take. The pain in the pit of my stomach tells me I still feel the loss of not having him in my life, even as spotty as it was prior to his death.

The connection we had, we still have. He visits me from time to time sometimes so intensely I am filled to the brim with the comfort and love he can now share. I think it's funny that he likes to visit when I am with my mother, like he did today.

My Sunday visit with Mom was routine - lunch and Goodwill shopping. On my way to taking her home, I turned into her subdivision. That is when Jim popped up in the backseat. I asked him, "What are you doing here?" His answer? "I'm just here for the ride." Typical Jim. I started laughing and shared it with my mother. She said, "Isn't that clever," and laughed, too.

Your loved ones are never far from you. Even if you can't hear them or see them, feel them or touch them, they are there. If you talk to them, they listen. Their love is still yours. They know how deeply you feel their loss and that, for some of you, you are walking through this life with a chunk of yourself missing.

They want you to be happy so do what you can to be happy.

Jim is Free

Besides going to the beach, Jim and I used to go to Gillespie Park and feed the squirrels roasted unsalted peanuts in the shell. With each visit they came to know us and once we were spotted we felt joy as we watched them scurry down from the trees and run over. Jim and I sat in the same spot every time so they knew the drill. We did it so often that a few of the braver ones would take the peanuts directly from our out-stretched fingers. For the rest of the crew, we would throw the nuts a few feet to them from our perch on beach towels at the top of a little hill.We enjoyed doing this for many reasons. First, the squirrels were fun to watch and it was fun feeding them. Secondly, having a squirrel take a peanut from your fingers was a thrill. Lastly, it was meditative and a quiet time for us to be together. It was always hard for us to pull ourselves away from there and go back to the realities and stresses of life.


Jim passed away this morning at 11:15. I was at work and was planning on leaving at 1 o'clock to see him. With his brother's urgent text message, I packed up and left at 10:30am instead. When I walked into Jim's room, I saw his sister-in-law at his side and I heard her tell Jim that I was there. I dropped my things on the table, hugged his brother and then hugged his sister-in-law. Before I sat down in the chair next to Jim's bed, his sister-in-law told me that he was waiting for me before he would pass.

"Hi, Sweetie." I took one of his hands in mine and with the other I caressed his head. "Hi, Baby. It's okay. Everything is okay." After a couple of labored breaths that seemed like hours apart, he stopped.

Free from pain, free from guilt, free from all of the bad memories that haunted him. Jim is free.

This is Jim

This is a picture of Jim from April 2012. When he and I first met we went to the beach a lot. It was where we went on our first date. I've written about Jim before.

This is also from April, 2012. Here he was painting my mother's kitchen in her condo. Don't tell her he put his dirty shoe on the counter.

This is from March, 2012. Those are his legs and my sandals. He has great legs!

This is now and Jim was moved to hospice this afternoon. The doctor said he's got three to seven days left, give or take three days. He is dying from end stage liver disease because he is an alcoholic and this last binge was more than his body could take. This is the drinking jag from which he will never recover.

I have no regrets knowing him, having him in my life, loving him, and sometimes hating him. We dated for a year then lived together for a year. After we separated, we still kept in touch. 

There was one point in his adult life when he was able to stay sober. I can't remember the length of time but I think it was at least five years. Maybe ten? He went to AA meetings every night. It is sad that he couldn't keep it going.

He taught me so many things. He taught me meditation, the tools to learn to live in the present, and what Reiki was. He showed me how one big long bear hug done the right way could make everything better. I bought him a Superman mug because that is what he was to me. A big strapping guy that wasn't afraid of anything. He didn't have to work out to be muscular. He just was. He was proud to be a Marine and I learned once a Marine, always a Marine.

At the beach he would hunt the big shells for me, feeling around with his feet. Once detected, he would dive for them with his eyes open! He grew up in Florida, a native, so this wasn't a big deal to him. Just something he could give to me to make me happy.

He would fall asleep on the couch sitting up and I would lie next to him curled up with my head on his chest and his arm draped over me. Safe and secure, these naps were just as good as a whole night's sleep.

It is because of Jim that I have Poppy. 

Knowing Jim, being loved by him when he was at his best, I finally felt free enough to accept myself. I am more me than I ever was because of Jim.

Before I paint too rosie a picture, anyone who has either lived with, loved, or been intimate with an active alcoholic knows life can get sour really fast. But, that's not why I am writing this.

Why am I writing this? Maybe because I'm sad, heavy-hearted, and I want you to know it. I still can't wrap my head around the whole thing. 

He is on a steady morphine drip to keep the pain at bay. He sleeps a lot, has a difficult time talking when he is awake, and the mischievous look that would light up his eyes is gone. 

He didn't have an easy life. I won't give up his secrets now or ever but he suffered. It was because of the depth of his suffering that he understood and accepted the depths of feelings in others. It was the reason why he was also quick to notice offenses, real or perceived.

He is beautifully broken. A fighter in the ring, he's on the mat and the ref is calling the count of ten. His loved ones, quietly watching, are waiting.

I Know What I Want

"There were so many things that were right. It was perfect except for..." I made the mental list in my head as I had done before - after I ended it. I laid in bed having woken up an hour and forty-five minutes too early. Pulling Poppy up to me from his favorite spot near my knees, I snuggled up with him.  I knew I had used that phrase before. "It was perfect except for [fill in the blank as appropriate to each relationship]. 

It was perfect except for when he drank.

It was perfect except for when he used drugs.

It was perfect except for when he brought up his ex.

The thing is, I learned so much from each of these men. I learned about life, about human behavior, about addiction to the bottle, the pill, and another person. (Yes, I believe we can be addicted to people that aren't good for us.) All negative attachments that for their own reasons these men carried on their backs and in their hearts.

I also learned about me and I grew and I changed. I became healthier; I became more "me" for having known these men. They weren't always easy lessons. As a matter of fact, some were heartbreaking. But, it was worth it and I am not sorry about them.

For the longest time I didn't understand the concept of love. Why did we look for love? Why is it natural for some but not for all to want a mate? Occam's Razor, people. It really isn't that complicated. This is how we were designed.

Now I am solid, healthy, and happy. I recognize the signs. I know who I am, what I want and I am being patient. I am doing my utmost to walk in love and not in fear.

It is still dark in my bedroom. I pull Poppy close and kiss his sweet head. I feel full. I know what I want.