Ellie Mae

Ellie Mae
Beautiful Ellie Mae

Freddie, the French Bulldog

Freddie, the French Bulldog
Lazing on a sunny afternoon

The artist

The artist
Ollie Mac

Ollie and Annie

Ollie and Annie
Azorean grandmother

Acrylics and watercolors

Acrylics and watercolors
Cannabis and sunflowers

Papa and Ollie Mac

Papa and Ollie Mac
Priorities, Baby

Acrylics and watercolors

Acrylics and watercolors
Hollyhocks

Mahlon Masling Blue

Mahlon Masling Blue
My friend and brother.

Mark's E-mail address

bellspringsmark@gmail.com

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

She Ain't Heavy


Or not...
Out of respect I do not prattle on about the health issues of loved ones, preferring to focus more on the effect these problems have on me. “I” messages help me to keep centered on the big picture, without having to create a “National Inquirer” kind of environment.

I have long since shared that I am a wanderer in a hostile land, when it comes to hospitals, particularly waiting rooms. I’m not proud but I am realistic: If my presence is not helping, then it must be hurting. If the person being visited is more concerned for my welfare, than for her own, something is amiss.

Therefore, I remain on the mountain, stoking the home fires and trying my hardest not to dwell on the negative. In point of fact, I seek out the negative and attack it. Chicken coop needs cleaning because it’s gross? Excellent! The grosser the better.

Though not on the same level of gross, I also attack house-cleaning. As opposed to dusting, I wipe the house down with a damp washcloth, brush the ceilings and corners for spider webs, and sweep and mop the floors. I do the laundry, hanging out Gluten-Free Mama’s clothes indoors on racks, while stringing my stuff outside on the clothesline. 

When I finish cleaning the entire house, I begin again, going deeper and more thoroughly into nooks and crannies with my toothbrush, for the simple reason that it gives me a sense of purpose. I wash the bedsheets, I go through the coat rack and gather up dirty jackets and hoodies and I round up all the throw-rugs and bathmats. 

In lieu of me, I send flowers...
Somehow, all of this industry helps me combat the hollow, empty feeling that accompanies me everywhere, when GF Mama is gone. As I explained to HeadSodBuster the other evening, I feel as though I have been wading deeper into the ocean for the past six years, and I’m now in over my head. I feel so appreciative I get overwhelmed.

He stopped me. “You don’t have to say anything; this is what family is all about. You provided support for Grandpa and Grandma-now it’s our turn.” He said a lot of other things also, for which I was grateful.

I have gotten over the feelings of guilt that at times I cannot be with GF Mama; guilt is counter-productive. Instead, I focus on how much support there is for her. Any thought that she might be a burden is balanced by the simple fact that GF Mama has spent a lifetime caring for others in their times of need. Karma may seem slow at times and unsure of herself at others, but when it comes to balancing an entire lifetime of giving, Karma will be instant.

It’s like this: If you’ve walked the walk all of your life, then you get to be carried when your legs get jerked out from under you, until you are back on your feet. You don’t have to worry about being a burden, if there are many willing to help lighten the load.

Excuse me, one sec.

“May I have your attention, please, especially those of you in the back? Please, no pushing or shoving! You will get your chance to help!”

OK, I’m back. Where was I?

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