Here's the summary of my weekend that I posted in various forums and places on Facebook this weekend:

"My home has been invaded by long-distance cleaning fairies. They came over to see me and Drogo and to thoroughly clean our house and give me a massage. Basically? I cried at the incredible outpouring of love and care and consideration, and now I'm sitting here eating grapes, listening to Def Leppard, watching them clean and dance and be silly, and watch my husband assist/fetch cleaning supplies/be shooed out from underfoot. (I'm not allowed to help.) feeling overwhelmed by love with Lacey and 2 others.

So they just left… but three friends of mine conspired with my husband to show up and clean my house for me. They are from several hours away and were going to be coming to town for other reasons, so they were going to come and see us *anyway* to say hello, so they figured they'd just take care of me while they were at it  One of them, who I actually met for the first time yesterday, is a licensed massage therapist that has worked with fibro patients previously, and she gave me a foot massage yesterday and a back massage today. They did the dishes that I've been too sick to do for three weeks (yeah, ALL my dishes have been dirty for three weeks-- gross!), and I didn't realize how dirty my house had actually gotten until they cleaned it! One of them took nearly an hour to soak and nitty gritty scrub my bathtub so I could soak in super duper cleanliness, bless her heart.

I did what I could to express my thanks (beyond crying when I comprehended what they were here for when they showed up yesterday, of course!) so I made them little gift baskets last night and wrote them thank you cards with their names in hand-lettered calligraphy on the front and stamped wax seals on the envelope flaps. (Wish I'd thought to take pictures. Oh well.) They were so pleased! You'd have thought I'd given them the moon  The lesson I learned from both giving and receiving this weekend is that while it pays to give, it also pays to receive graciously and with humility and pure gratitude. It meant a LOT to those girls to be able to do something so obviously meaningful for me, even with no apparent reward anywhere in their future beyond my and Drogo's gratitude."

Yes, I cried when they revealed their intent. And I TOTALLY guessed who was mysteriously coming over! Drogo was having a prolonged text conversation and sporadic phone calls and wouldn't tell me who was coming over and I was like, "Is it Lacey?" (she lives hours away and we rarely get to see her) and he was like, "Why would it be Lacey?" Literally minutes later a knock sounds at the door and in walks Lacey. I knew it!!!!! And when they told me that they were there to clean the house and that the new friend was there to massage me, too… I just broke down. I still burst into tears when I look around and see the cleanliness of my house. My heart just cannot hold that much love! Dani, Lacey's girlfriend, scrubbed and soaked and scrubbed and scrubbed my bathtub and shower until it sparkles and gleams because she knows that I soak in it a lot. 

See, I had sent out a plea on Facebook the other day, giving up my pride and just asking for help from my friends because I can't do this anymore. My pain levels are too high and I'm too sick and I just can't make life work all by myself anymore and I need help! I had dishes in the sink that had been there going on three weeks, and I was too weak to wash them. I was/am too weak to cook myself food, so I'm relying on easy-make foods like sandwiches, cereal, fruit, yogurt, certain veggies, etc. For various reasons, people were unable to come to my rescue, but these ladies began plotting and subsequently Facebook stalking me to make sure that no one else stepped in to do the job they intended to do, which no one did. So they bought all manner of cleaning supplies and brought grungy shirts and braved the dust and the mold and the kitty dander to which they are all allergic, and my home is so lovely and bright and inhabitable now, it just brings a smile to my face when I hobble through :)

I wanted to "pay it forward" somehow, desperately, to give something back somehow, so I put together little gift packages for each one of them that night after they left. (We went out to dinner together, too, so that was fun. Fortunately, due to some extra pain killers headed my way via an anonymous source the day before, I had my best day this entire month, no exaggeration, and I was able to be up and about with them in a halfheartedly normal manner.) They opened their gifts and read their cards while they were visiting with me this afternoon before they left to go home and I couldn't believe their heartfelt appreciation over something so small. I mean, they had given me something so incredibly heartwarming and valuable… I felt as though my return gesture of appreciation was so feeble and faltering in comparison! But it was not so to them, and that is what matters.

The amazing thing is that just the gratitude that I had for the gift they gave me of their time and effort and taking care of something that I was not capable of doing on my own was enough for them. That was all they expected to receive, and it was more than enough for them. It meant so much to me, what they did, maybe more than they will ever understand. To go from being an active achiever, someone who "gets things done" to being unable to do your own dishes is… well, it's humiliating. You begin to question your own worth as a person, as a wife. What is the point of even keeping me around, you wonder. Why does my husband want me here? All I can do is sleep and generate mess. But these girls… they came in and gave me a fresh start. I can maintain the cleanliness, to a degree. When I use a dish, I clean it right away so it doesn't build up. They laughed with me and cracked jokes and told stories and, most of all, reaffirmed my worth as a person. They wanted to spend time with me. They came all this way for me. They wanted to do this for me, of their own free will. They went out of their way and went to trouble for me because I am of value. It cheered me up to an unspeakable degree. It's hard to explain.

As a side note, I also found a bit of usefulness as a chronic illness advocate as well. The massage therapist, Meli, has worked with fibro patients in the past but doesn't know much about the illness itself. Her mother deals with many chronic illnesses but is, as Meli describes it, a hypochondriac. She is the negative stereotype of chronic illness patients embodied, the type where they say "it's all in your head" and it's kinda mostly true. That's unfortunate, but that's kind of the place where she has had to base her knowledge and dealings from, because that's all she really knows of chronic illness. During her time with me, she asked me questions and I answered as best I could, and of course she saw me deal with everyday life in my fashion. In addition to that I mentioned something about spoons, which lead to my reading her The Spoon Theory by Christine Miserandino, which is like the American Constitution for chronic illness patients lol.

Well what is really neat is that today she told me that I have really changed her perspective on chronic illness, enlightened her, so to speak, and I feel much like how I used to when I worked with The Healing Journey and did advocacy for abuse survivors. This illness has taken so very much from me, and I suppose you could even say it has ruined my life. At this point, that could be a very accurate statement, though in the future that may no longer apply. (Fingers crossed!) However, as with the negative things that stem from abuse, I've managed to turn those potential life-ruiners into positives by using them to inform and educate others and advocate for rights, change, research, healing; whatever is necessary at that time. I'm a badass, man. Life can't keep me down, no matter how hard it tries! I'm just super grateful that I have helped Meli to understand fibromyalgia and chronic illnesses better, because as a massage therapist and a health practitioner, she has the potential to affect many lives in the future. By affecting her point of view, I have theoretically changed dozens, if not more, of lives of people that I will probably never meet. Crazy, right? All by simply being my awesome self and being honest yet upbeat about my struggles and health problems.

Things are looking up. I may not necessarily be on the mend (if this month is any indication, because it has been hell), but I can still be a positive force in the world even from within my prison of pain and other various symptoms. Watch out, world!

On another, slightly more humorous/bitter note, I made something for my new pain doc. I think she'll get a kick out of it. We hit it off pretty well, and she seems to have a sense of humor much like mine, though I would not dare to pull this on any of my other doctors. They'd make me pay in one way or another… but I figure this will emphasize the truth of my statement that this month has been the. worst. month. of my fibro. ever. EVER. (ever.) (The date is set for my next appointment. I'm fairly confident that the pain won't be going anywhere before then, soooo…)

I've got a confession to make: I suck at being sick.

No, really. I mean sure, I'm not a huge grouchypants most of the time like some people would be if they had to carry this load *cough* myhusband *cough* but I'm not so great at the ins and outs of actually being sick.

To demonstrate, I shall show you a cartoon a friend posted on my fb timeline the other day, and it is so appropriate.

Calvin makes a pretty good point as well:

When it comes down to the nitty-gritty of taking care of myself while sick, I'm pretty terrible at it. The last time I recall eating a vegetable was cucumber and avocado in my sushi the day before my birthday; before that, who knows? I finally unpacked my toothbrush and toothpaste from the last trip to the big city I took… you know… a week ago. I went an entire week without brushing my teeth and only thought of it, like, twice. (And I seriously cannot recall the last time I flossed.) At least I've showered once this week. Or was it twice? Can't remember.

We have maybe 4 pieces of silverware left that are clean, no bowls, and 2 large plates. Everything else is dirty, because I just haven't done the dishes in about a week. I've either been gone, sleeping, or feeling too crappy to stand that long and put forth the energy. I did some earlier and am waiting for them to air dry so I can do some more, but now I'm in bed feeling like I'm gonna puke.

Facebook peeps only see what I choose to share, and even then it's more than most people with chronic illnesses tend to share. I'm open about the fact that I'm sick and I'm in pain all the time and that I'm on prescription pain killers (among other prescription drugs). Sometimes that leads to my having to grit my teeth, smile, and dodge well-meaning advice but it's a small price to pay for the awareness, community, and authenticity it's garnered.

I guess I can't be too hard on myself, though. Recall, if you will, the last time you had a bad flu. We're talking fever, chills, nausea, headache, achy body, the works. Were you very able to function and take care of yourself and the cats and the house? Not so much. Just wanted to huddle in bed, sleep, and ride it out, yeah? Yeah. That's my everyday life. I've caught the curse of the Eternal Flu. Probably when I desecrated that ancient Egyptian tomb… yep. I'm sure that's what triggered it. I knew it would pay off to learn hieroglyphics, but nooooo, my high school guidance counselor wouldn't go with it. Well, now I have someone to blame, right? Right.

I asked Star if she knew anyone that would be willing to come by once or twice a week and help me with light chores and cooking food to freeze and eat through the week. So far I haven't heard anything, but I just might put out a plea on Facebook… just as soon as I'm done begging for alms for the Celebirthsary weekend coming up. (This weekend!) I feel guilty about it… we're strapped so tight for money, and we could use the funds we've managed to gather for other things… but on the other hand, I think that with the stress of my declining further and his truck being smashed and all the other fun stuff that's been happening (half of it doesn't even make it onto these pages) we could really use the break. Plus we've got a free place to stay with a friend of mine, so it's not like we have to pay for a hotel. I just… *sigh* I wish I didn't cost Drogo so much money. I wish I could contribute in some way. I used to pull my weight by keeping the house all spiffy and tidy, but even that is a little beyond me now (as evidenced by the week's worth of dishes). I just… I need help. But I have nothing to offer in return for any assistance. I can't pay anyone, and I don't have any marketable skills unless you count binge-watching Netflix from my corner of the couch.

I'm nervous, y'all. Really nervous. I know Khal Drogo says we're going to be fine and we'll make it, etc. etc., but I wonder how much of that is him trying to set my mind at ease and protect me and how much is actual truth? It's always hard, starting out as a young married couple. This, though… this goes beyond "hard". Sometimes I wish I could live an extremely uneventful life. It seems that my life is fated to be extraordinary with crazy things happening all the time, big difficult mountains to shoulder through and after-school-special-worthy moral lessons to be learned. But hey, you know, everyone's got their own crap to deal with in some way or another. I can't say that all the crappiness is evenly distributed, but we all get a taste of it at some point or another. I just happen to be a connoisseur, is all.

Well, I'm still feeling pretty terrible so I'm going to curl up with a book and lose myself for a while if I can. Before I leave, though, I'll just put this right here. (It's a song that's been stuck in my head for a while now, and I finally found it! Not the typical style of music I like but it's addicting to me, at least. It makes me feel seductive for some reason, and I like it.)

So today has been one of those good, lazy days. The gang came over for DnD last night, but I was far too tired to make it through more than the first few steps of the encounter. M put me into "Hammer Space", which is basically the "cartoon pocket" of the universe. So I was there, without actually being there, and the real me took off to go take a nap. M gave me one of her muscle relaxers from the accident, since I was hurting and stuff, and it really helped me to get to sleep. I've been having trouble sleeping the past few days from pain, so it was a relief to sack out for a while, and laying down no less! The past few nights have been spent propped up on the couch so I could drift off, since it hurt too much to breathe when I was lying down.

So I slept for several hours, woke up to eat something, went back to bed for several hours, woke up for a little while and had breakfast, then went down for a few more hours. I was awake for a few hours when I went to go take another nap with C, who hadn't climbed out of bed yet. I didn't actually get to sleep, but we did stay in bed for a while, which was nice. (My mood is greatly improved from yesterday, as C has proved that he is still a willing participant of marital privileges. It's been a great relief, I'll tell you that for sure.) Also, a big plus to sleeping in bed is that when C came to bed we were able to cuddle up together. I haven't gotten to sleep-cuddle with C in probably just as long as we've been abstinent, since I've either been in too much pain to touch, not in bed at the same time as him, or sleeping out on the couch. It is such a simple yet profound joy to briefly stir to consciousness and feel your love's warm arm draped over you and his feet entangled with yours. Words cannot describe it, but it's one of my favorite parts of being with C. Is that weird? I don't care. It makes me happy.

When we clambered out of bed we both hopped into the shower and then watched an episode of the show we're watching together. He wandered off to go play a game on the comp and I've been watching Netflix. I'm tired, though, and my tummy's a little upset, so I think I might brew up a mug of tea then crash for however long I end up sleeping. The "nice" thing about being disabled is that I don't have anything pressing to be up for in the morning and I can sleep whenever I'd like. (Well, whenever I can, as the case may be…) There's always a positive, right?

M brought a book over for me to read, and as weird as it is I find myself strangely fascinated with it and I've been reading it off and on throughout the past few days. It's set back in the ancient days of Egypt, but it totally references contemporary Biblical events of the time, which is cool.

I'm totally yawning my head off. Time to hit the hay for a while. I like lazy days… when they're spent with company. It gets kind of boring when you're all by yourself, day after day. I would know.

What a trip that was; what a trip, indeed! Yes, I feel good about how it went. I feel good about the fact that I was there, and I feel good about what I "accomplished" in terms of being there for my sister and my family. It seems that they kinda like having me around or something. Heh. My brother said, "If Cassie doesn't come home for Christmas, then the holiday spirit is just gone!" Awww :) I'm his Ghost of Christmas Present! Or Past... whichever one is more fun and amazing. Just so long as I'm not the Ghost of Christmas Future. That guy is pretty grim.

Apparently J ended back up in the Nut Hut (mental health unit of the hospital) shortly after I left for suicidal impulses again. If I were going to look at that as any sort of indicator on how well I "did my job", I still wouldn't really know, because either I did so well at supporting her that she didn't need to go to the hospital while I was there or I was bad enough at it that she felt the need to seek professional help. I prefer to think it's the former, though neither one is necessarily even applicable. It is what it is. I did talk to both her and C while I was there, though, and there's a 90% certainty that she will be moving in with C and I for a while after she graduates. It'll be good for her to have the stability of our home, I will have someone around to help me with the house and basic life tasks, she can go through the HJ program, and she can see what a good, healthy marriage looks like. That's something she's not going to get pretty much anywhere else in the family or her friend group, sad to say.

Speaking of the HJ, I found out yesterday that we have had office space donated to us!!! That means that we'll have actual headquarters! No more of this "working out of a spare bedroom" stuff anymore. And it's a LOT closer to home for me, so it will be easier to get to, not to mention that I can come and go as I please. I can work at the office when I feel well and not have to fuss with coordinating rides and days and stuff with E any longer. Such a relief. And this will greatly facilitate my goal of getting the HJ (and E especially) more organized.

Since my health has taken (yet another) hit and I'm not doing so well, I was afraid that I'd have to really back off in my involvement with the HJ... and as a consequence, earn less money. I'm not in it for the money at all, except for the little bit of me that is in it for the money... because, let's be honest, bills have got to be paid. So this new development is a relief, frankly. I think it will make the job more sustainable for me until I can get well enough to work like a normal person again.

As I'm sitting here, typing away, I'm looking around at the walls of my living room and at all of the pictures and things we have hanging up. They all make me smile for one reason or another because every single thing has a backstory and a memory attached to it. There is nothing in our home that is for useless show, really, and I like that. Just a random thought.

Another thing that makes me smile: shiny stuff! Since I've gained weight and since my symptoms have increased in severity, I find myself unable to wear my wedding ring most of the time because it cuts into my finger now and is uncomfortable. My swollen fingers make a larger sized ring necessary. (That just goes to show the difference... a year ago, when I was engaged, I had a hard time with the ring almost falling off my finger because it was so loose on me!) While I was visiting the fam I bought myself a very dainty and thin silver band to wear with/instead of my wedding ring. When I showed it to C upon returning he said that we just needed to get me another ring in a larger size to wear on the days when my hands are swollen. I took to that idea immediately because, hello, shiny stuff, so I spent the last couple of days compiling rings that I like and presented them to C last night for his selection. I wanted him to have the final choice, that way it is something that came from him, you know? But my compiling the list guaranteed that I would like any of the ones he chose. Well, we pored over Etsy last night and he went ahead and purchased one. Behold, my alternate wedding ring!

There were many beautiful choices, but we both agreed that this one represents my personality and style best.

Oh, and I also (finally) got a dresser for my clothes! That's a good thing, as the big blue suitcase I was keeping my clothes in on the closet floor bit the dust when I used it for the trip home. So now I have three whole drawers to keep my things in. I haven't put anything in it today, but that's on the agenda for today. I'm ecstatic! (You know your life is bit dull when something as mundane as a dresser is cause for merriment and joy.)

So that's life for now. Just enjoying being back home in my own routine with C again. I didn't miss him, really, until I saw him again... and by that I didn't realize that I missed him until I had him again. I kept myself pretty occupied while back east. Not to be all mushy and stuff, but I really do love that man. Just standing around the kitchen with him and waiting for water to boil is a satisfying and enjoyable event. I'm so glad I married him. He's good people, and he's at his best with me. Love him.

I saw the neurologist today. While he is more skeptical of fibromyalgia than I'd like (it has no objective test to prove its presence in a person), he seems to know what he's talking about when it comes to other things. In addition, he's friendly and laughs easily, so I will stick with him, at least for now.

When I told him about the twitchies, he immediately began asking questions. He feels that many of the things wrong with me are puzzle pieces, including the fibromyalgia. Indeed, there are several diseases that fibromyalgia mimics the symptoms of, so in reality I could not have fibro at all, but some other disease. Isn't that interesting? So I'll be getting an MRI, an EEG, and some electrical testing in the next few weeks, to see what's going on with my nervous system. Honestly, there are several suspects that we are trying to see if we can rule out, and MS is one of them. Many of the symptoms of MS are the same as fibro, and the twitchies are definitely of a neurological origin, so it's a suspect until we rule it out. Lupus is another. Basically, we're looking at autoimmune causes it seems, although he agrees with me that the big accident back in '06 may actually have something to do with my nervous system dysfunctions.

Other than that, life's been pretty calm. I've had a few more instances of grieving D, but I know it's normal and healthy, so I just go with it and cry it out. C will often hold me while I cry, which is nice.

Have I mentioned lately that I love being married? The more time passes, the more love I am filled with for C, and the more gratitude wells up and overwhelms me. I am so grateful that I chose this path for my life. I am filled with more satisfaction and happiness than I have ever had in my life. My time in Id was very fulfilling, and comes a close second, but the work I was doing to heal from my past adds an element of discord and instability that is lacking in my current life. I have stability, for the first time in my life. Real, honest to goodness stability. I have C to thank for that. He is a Mr. Steady, that's for sure, and he works so hard to make sure that all of our ends meet. I know I can trust him and rely on him to care for me... and our children, eventually. I love that man, more than I thought I was capable of, and it's clear that he loves me as well. Life is good. Loving and being loved, despite whatever financial difficulties we are having... everything else pales in comparison. I am basking in the glow of knowing that I have my own little home, a place that will always be here for me. That doesn't mean that I don't still get restless and have the urge to go on an adventure, but the adventure is sweeter knowing that home is waiting. A real home. My home.

I see the pain specialist tomorrow, and I hope that he can help me. The patch took a few days for the medicine to build up in my system, and it's helping a little, but I'm still quite reliant on painkillers. I feel less shame about using them now, less guilt for taking them. I don't really understand why I feel as though I need to prove myself by enduring large amounts of pain, but I'm realizing that it's pretty silly. If I'm hurting and have the means to lower that pain, why shouldn't I? I would want anyone else to do the same. I do tend to treat myself much more harshly (and abusively) than I would ever treat someone else, but I'm working on overcoming that. I'm still learning how to be kind to myself. It's a long process, but one that is proving worthwhile. I think it's contributing to my satisfaction and joy in life. C is wonderful, but he is not and cannot be my everything. It would be unhealthy for me to expect that. I need to find my own joy and satisfaction outside of him and our relationship, although he does bring me much joy and satisfaction. That's why I'm grateful that I can still work some. It does a lot for my spirit to know that not only am I still somewhat self-reliant, but I am helping others. It's been hard, this loss of independence and control over my life... but I still have some measures of self-reliance left, and I cling to them.

Now I'm just rambling. I ran out of the effective painkillers my rheumatologist gave me to tide me over, so I had to take a large dose of two other painkillers that I still have. It worked, and I feel very relaxed and happy, which I love. I can see how easy it would be to become a prescription pain killer abuser, but that is something that I do not want. That contributes partially to my guilt over pain meds. I'm afraid that by enjoying the relief from pain and the mild euphoria that the drugs sometimes bring, I am choosing the path of the drug abuser. I know that's not the case, but enjoying the effects of the pain killers frightens me in a way. The weather has been forcing me to take more pain killers than I would normally (the barometric pressure is all over the place!), but I have other, more active ways to relieve the pain as well. C claims that I'm going to kill him with wanting sex so much, but it's just a natural part of who I am. I think he secretly enjoys the fact that I want him so much. In fact, I know he does. He pretends to hold out because he likes to watch me try to convince him to "give me a dose of painkillers". I found that little tidbit out last night, and I pretended offense, but I find it just as fun as he does to try to convince him, so the game will go on.

Summary: getting the medical help I need, despite our financial hardships. (Payment plans FTW!) Life is good. I love my husband, and I love being married. Took some meds, I feel good, and I borrowed some books from the library so I've been reading like crazy lately. I've been more fatigued than usual, so it's a good past-time.

I really think the antidepressant I'm on is helping me. It's a low dose, to be sure, but I just needed that little edge, that advantage over my biological inclination toward depression. The environmental stuff, that I can work with. That's where self-talk and positive thinking and working to free myself from the wounds of the past come in. But the biological? I've been at its mercy for far too long. Since going on the antidepressant, I've noticed that my mood doesn't fluctuate as widely as it did before. I didn't realize how much I did that, or how much effort I had to put into being positive, until it became easier. Not to say that I don't still struggle with discouragement... because the pain has been changing again lately, I think due to getting off of all of my fibro meds for one reason or another. At least I know that they were helping some, even if I was still not to the level of functioning that I would have liked. Unfortunately, the gabapentin makes me twitch (still having problems with that, though I haven't been on it in close to a week), and the Savella is too expensive. We just can't afford it right now. But hey... at least I'm not depressed about it ;)

C had the day off yesterday and friend M took him/us suit shopping. C got a very nice black suit, and I can't wait to see him in it when we go up for the wedding. I'm going to have to beat the girls off with a stick! Back off, ladies-- he's spoken for. In the evening, C helped me hang pictures and a decorative shelf up in the living room, so it looks a lot more cozy and homey now. I don't think I've mentioned it lately, but I love our little house. Now that the major stuff is all unpacked, it feels like home. I smile when I walk into our little kitchen because it's so cozy and clean and full of our useful little knick knacks and cast iron skillets and such. In the living room, our comfy couch is draped with soft blankets and every corner houses a plump, cushy pillow. The low table is situated at the perfect height to reach over for a mug of tea or a glass of water, and the couch is large enough to sprawl or cuddle, however the mood strikes.

I went for a walk this morning. Took my walker out and pounded the sidewalk for about 15 minutes, a 2 block radius. I was ready to be back home by the time our house came into view, but I'm happy that I got out and into the sunshine and fresh air. I've been longing to do that for the past week or so, but been in too much pain. I'm hurting today, to be sure, but it seems more bearable this morning.

I've been going through things in my craft room, finding the things to hang up in the living room and just generally trying to get it organized. (I also set up a bunch of my knick-knacks on the top of our "dresser"-aka snake cage- and it ended up looking like a pagan altar! It was completely unintentional. I just collect a lot of rocks and natural things... and daggers... and such. It's pretty and I'm leaving it the way it is, but it's just funny how it totally looks like I practice the old ways or something.) In going through my bins, I came across a lot of things that invoked waves of nostalgia. For instance, this picture:

That's me and my grampa. I am about four here, maybe five. Grampa has worn button-up shirts like the one in the picture every day of my entire life. (I have never seen the man in a t-shirt. Ever. He doesn't even own undershirts, I don't think.) So when I was growing up, I would measure my height by the buttons on Grampa's shirt. "I'm up to the third button now!" "I'm up to the fourth button!" I couldn't believe it when I ran out of buttons and started hitting shoulders, or his nose... and now I'm taller than he is. He's still a giant of a man, though, in spirit. A true father figure for me, and a safe haven in troubled times. When Mom moved down to Y and had K, we lived with Gramma and Grampa for a time before she met and married G (the one I put in prison), and Grampa and I developed the habit of taking walks in the desert together. It was on those walks that I was able to casually divulge details of the abuse I had suffered at the hands of K's father. (Also G. Same name. Must be a bad name.) Grampa was furious, but he contained himself because he knew that as a young child I would interpret his anger as being directed at me. When he talks about that now, I realize what a truly safe, caring, and gentle man he is... and I'm so grateful that I have had that influence in my life. He's like D in a lot of ways, which is maybe why I got so attached to D. 

I pulled out my guitar yesterday and began playing through my songbook, but when I played "Mountaintop", I lost it. I made it all the way to the last chorus before the memories of playing guitar with D, watching and imitating his chords, came vividly to mind. C came in and held me while I cried, told me it was okay to miss him and to be sad. I said I know... I just miss him so much. But I am glad to have known him. It is worth it to have lost, because it means that I loved... and he was so lovable. 

I am dreading the day that I lose Grampa. He's getting older, and has had several health problems in recent years, so I know it's coming, but... I don't even want to think about it. There's no point in worrying about it. I know it's inevitable. I just focus on enjoying him and Gramma while I still have them here.