loss – The Hermits' Rest

Quiet Mourning

I’ve been quiet because I was feeling sad for the Austin music community I was on the periphery of for a few years. Many kind people are mourning the loss of Chris Gage, who in addition to his musical talent and cool adventures (he was on Hee Haw as a young man!), was a great friend, mentor, producer, entertainer, and family member. His was a life very well lived.

He was so good to my dear friend, Jeff, when he really needed the encouragement. Hearing Chris be encouraging but firm showed me his character. I’m grateful for all he did for so many other friends, too.

Some of my happiest memories during my hardest days were at Donn’s Depot, listening to him and his wife, Christine Albert, sing together, or seeing many musicians jamming. They created such a warm community. I’m glad Christine will have them and her family to surround her in coming weeks.

Never heard of Chris Gage? His story is fascinating. One of the greatest supporting musicians ever. You’ve probably seen him on Austin City Limits if you’re an Americana fan.

PS: get those prostate exams, if you have a prostate. Often. Chris was ok, then he wasn’t.

Cute Birds and Bittersweet Memories

It was the best day in a long time for bird watching. Between my observations and the Merlin Bird ID, 51 species were found on our property. That’s pretty exciting for me. But more exciting was how entertained I was by all that I saw. Yes, I’m easily entertained. You knew that.

I swear this little White-crowned Sparrow looks like an egg with a tiny head on it.

I saw a beautiful Harrier swooping over the fields late this afternoon when working with Apache the Wonder Steed. We both watched.

Then right at sunset, while I was watching and listening to the sparrows (Harris’s, White-throated, Chipping, Song, and White-crowned) as they rustled through the leaves looking for bird stuff, something flew by. It was the Great Horned Owl heading to a tree. Thirty seconds later, it hit the ground. I guess it got a mouse. Spectacular.

I didn’t like that. What if the owl was after us cute songbirds? Circle of Life, yeah yeah.

That really helped me get through a hard day. It’s now six years since I heard from my son. He was a great kid. I hope he’s enjoying life. I think he is, and that’s good. I just miss this little charmer.

33 years and 8 months ago, 4 generations.

As the two older generations in that photo are no longer here to talk to, I’m the older generation now. My cousin Jan and I have been talking about that, since her dad, a good friend of my dad’s, passed a way a couple of days ago. We’re the elders. That feels so strange.

Three generations, me, Mom, and Aunt Belle, my grandmother’s twin. I was a senior in high school.

I hope I can stay in contact with the generation after me. Maybe someday my son, but if not, it’s his decision and I respect it. And I’m fine. I just allow myself one day a year to mourn the loss that I really don’t understand. Grief is always lurking.

My parents and me in 1958. I knew they loved me, even if none of us were perfect. Dad was 27. Mom was 36.

Once again, I ask you to stick close to your loved ones, your friends who support you, and your community. We need each other.

Not a Good Deja Vu

Once upon a time I was in charge of a large flock of chickens that the owners were no longer interested in taking care of. Their coop had a door, but an animal had broken the screening. Let’s just say soon I had a small flock of chickens. Then I had one. Big Red hung on for a few more years.

I got a much sturdier coop and kept a few more chickens. I was down to six most of this year, then something got Bertie Lee. Then Blondie.

When I had seven. We lost the gray one last year.

Last night something got almost everyone else by coming in through their door and getting them while roosting. My fault. The hens liked to free range so I didn’t lock the door to their run. If the dang bobcat wanted them so bad, why didn’t he take them? Or maybe it was a raccoon. Or any other of the many predators we have.

I’ll really miss Buttercup. She and Bertie Lee were the friendliest ones I ever had.

I’m glad we didn’t have an attack like this for four years! But today was bad and made me cry. I’d had these hens a long time. But one is here still, poor Bianca, who can’t take the heat. It’s hard to be a lone chicken like Big Red was. She bonded with Sara’s horses. Either Bianca will do that or the predator will come back.

Circle of life. Blah blah.

If I get more chickens it will be in the fall, when it is cooler. In the meantime I’ll clean the henhouse out really well. Sigh. This past week has been rough.

At least the horses are okay. Apache seemed off yesterday but today he ate his food and took his meds like a champ. And Drew did all his exercises right, paying attention to me, his leader.

Thanks for being a good guy, Droodles. You were even good for your shot.

As icing on the cake, we are sleeping in the RV because our upstairs air conditioner has broken and won’t get fixed until Monday. Oh course, now is the time the bedroom slide decides to not extend so I can’t make the bed. Sigh again.

I’m doing a lot of deep breathing and trying to be kind to myself. I’d hoped to have lunch with friends today to cheer me up, but just one friend made it. I enjoyed a Negra Modelo in honor of Buttercup, Henley, and Billie Idyll and was consoled by Phyllis. I’m grateful to her and all my sympathetic Facebook buddies.

We can get through this stuff together (this means YOU, too, members of my household).

Life without Music

What would your life be like without music?

My life has always been filled with music. I started “training” my voice trying to imitate Julie Andrews before I started school. We only had one album, Mary Poppins. I sang in choir from 6th grade through high school (where it was chorus, because I guess choir is for church).

I was not the greatest singer, but I was very helpful in choruses, because I could read music (2 years of piano lessons, which I sucked at), I was loud, and I could sing any part but bass, thanks to my range. And I loved harmony, oh so much.

You can see why I sang tenor. Not a lot of dudes.

I also was crazed for folk and rock music, so I kept on singing with Linda Ronstadt and her cohorts. I liked music that was complex but clean, whether classical or rock opera (mmm, Quadrophenia…want me to sing the whole thing?)

High school singing. My brother is at left.

I didn’t sing for many years after high school, due to hard feelings with my music teacher. I don’t remember what it was about. But I sang informally with friends and wished I didn’t have such fat, stubby non-guitar-suited fingers. Listening was always part of life. I wish I had my albums.

I loved to sing. This is our folk group with Eddie Collins added.

I started a second round of singing in my late thirties through 50s. I learned a lot singing in the choir at the Unitarian Universalist church we attended. Our choir director was a great teacher and extremely patient with the motley crew who showed up. It ranged from professionals to first-time singers. It was a lot of fun, and a great outlet for my soul. Harmony is just the best.

Church choir, maybe the concert when my voice quit.

I also worked with the church-sponsored folk music coffeehouse. I met many wonderful Americana artists who are still my friends. For a few years, my dear friend Jeff, a great musician, lived with me and the boys. We had CDs recorded at our house!

I think that was great education for my kids, especially the one that became a professional musician. During those years we all heard a lot of live music!

At some point two of my friends from church and I started learning songs and playing together. Both Bill and Austin sang well and were (are) great guitar players. It was fulfilling to work out harmonies and figure out what songs worked best for our voices. We didn’t perform in public much but it was great fun when we did.

Later, we joined our church band, and the opportunity to make music with my kids and husband was very special. We ended up doing songs that weren’t suited to me, but I kept trying until we moved to the ranch.

Probably the most musical fun I ever had was singing with two different choruses in Austin. I got to learn hard choral music and sing with people who were much better singers than me. It was like being the smartest person in high school only to discover you are average in college. Or in my case, grad school. I loved learning the difficult pieces and learning from others!

I can’t forget 6 years as a band mom following my kids around. That counts as music (this is the Cameron band years ago).

My singing stopped abruptly when I damaged my vocal cords singing the highest parts in Judas Maccabaeus. It was fun until I realized I’d list B, C, and D above middle C. That messed up most songs. I was the only second soprano in our church Christmas program and when I tried to sing, nothing came out. I was very embarrassed.

My friends Jim and Sherry, folks I met during the coffeehouse years.

Luckily, I have a very musical family, so for a few more years I got to enjoy Lee and my sons playing. We’d have jams on holidays, and Declan would play his rock songs and classical guitar for me. I truly enjoyed that.

This is my son in a band called Sherry. He’s still in bands with some of these folks.

But. Sigh. Lee’s hands have stopped working. He has pretty bad arthritis. That’s so hard for a lifelong bass player. He played since he was a teen, toured with bands, and worked in radio. He still listens a lot.

This early band Declan was in has folks who’ve moved on to do great things.

I don’t. I probably will eventually, but much of my favorite music makes me sad. I’ve lost my mandolin playing son, and I don’t get to hear Declan anymore. The last time I heard him play guitar was two years ago, when he was playing the Moonlight Sonata and my sister staged a big fall to bring the attention back to her. Unpleasantness ensued. That’s the last time I ever saw her, as she left town the next day and has officially “disowned” me.

Declan has never played for us again.

Geez. This took a sad turn. I don’t dwell on this stuff or sit around wondering what’s so awful about me that relatives are fleeing in droves. Stuff just happens. I’ll keep trying to be a good person and not worry about people who have problems with me and don’t want to work it out. What else can you do?

Declan still plays, though. This is Big Dallas.

I’m glad I’ve had so much music in my life. I know I’d be much different if I hadn’t learned so much about music and made so many wonderful music friends. It’s a treasured part of my life.

Mourning Relationships

I didn’t write a blog post yesterday, because I was too caught up in an unexpected wave of emotions. I found out that another of my mentor/friends from my time in La Leche League had passed away quite unexpectedly. Mentor/friend. There’s a concept. I truly believe that everyone we get to know, even a little, teaches us something. Everyone who becomes a friend teaches us something we need to learn that will help us.

Losing Gail Moak, who was a friend and mentor to so many stunned and pained me. As I sat with my grief (when I finally got a moment) it occurred to me that what I am mourning more than anything is the end of opportunities to listen to Gail, to learn from her, and to support her when she needs support.

Luckily, my mentor/friend Nancy called right about then, as I was sweeping the front porch to dissipate my feelings of helplessness, and she understood what I meant when I told her I don’t mourn the loss of life, because I know that happens to us all; I mourn the loss of a real-time relationship. Wow, I really value relationships with people I care about.

Last night’s sunset comforted me, as the Earth often does in its perspective

I think I mourn losses of friendships the same way. When the incident with our Bobcat book club happened, I ended up feeling so sad that I’d lost the chance to connect with, learn from, and support some women I’d come to think of as friends. They’re still alive, but our relationship died. It still hurts.

There’s that cliche that people always say after a loss, something like tell those you care about that you love them, or hug your family now. I can understand where that impulse comes from. My dearest wish, when it comes to my friends and family, though, would be that they are secure in the knowledge that I value my relationship with them, whatever it is, and that I will mourn it when we part, however we do part.

There’s so much we don’t know. But we do know our connections are vital for our spirits.

Just a bit about Gail. I knew of her when I worked with La Leche League, but never met her until I was asked to serve on the Board of Friends of LLL, the group for retired Leaders and supporters of the organization. We worked closely on the newsletter when I was editor, spoke often during meetings, and communicated very much on social media.

I got to know what a caring person she was, and not just about mothers and babies. She was passionate about equal rights for all people and didn’t just talk about it, she acted. I learned ways to be a stronger ally for my Black, brown, and indigenous friends from her. I saw her kindness toward the LGBTQIA+ community and felt a kindred spirit in how she expressed love and, crucially, support for people trying to be themselves in an increasingly hostile environment.

I dedicated this butterfly to Gail’s spirit

Most important, she was one of my many Christian friends who remind me that there are Christ-like ways of following that tradition where all are loved, not just rich, white males and their followers.

I just had to get all of what’s been stewing inside of me out. Writing things down always helps ground me. Life without both my friends Johanna and Gail will be hard. Both of them will leave a little black hole in Zoom meetings where their squares should be, but my heart will be full of memories of my relationships with these mentor/friends.

Thanks to all of you readers who have touched me. You DO make a difference and you have each taught me a lesson (some fun, some not so fun). I’m very grateful to you all.

Don’t Ask Me

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.

This is the daily blogging prompt. When I saw it, I immediately knew the answer. It’s really hard on me when people ask:

How is your son?

Every time I’m asked, I’m reminded that it’s been years since I heard from him directly. One day he said he needed some time before he’d talk to me again, and that was that. So, I really don’t know how he is, other than indirectly.

Small melilot, bluebonnets, and Indian paintbrush, because I need a picture.

Maybe someday I’ll know what caused the rift. Maybe not. As I’m repeatedly reminded, it’s the estranged person’s right to do what they need to do, and that should be respected.

It’s not at all helpful to speculate about possible reasons for the situation, because I have no way to know. His father won’t talk to me about it, nor will anyone in his household. I’m glad they respect his wishes, and if the situation were reversed, I would be grateful.

When I’m sad, I hug Fiona. She always seems to like me.

Still, I’m human and a mother who loves her children unconditionally. So, it hurts to be asked how my son is doing. I wish him peace and love, and respect his wishes.

And that is my answer to the prompt.

Welcoming Deaths and Treasuring Lives

It’s an interesting time for me, when it comes to life passages. While I’m fine and not going through a life change, I am privileged to know people who are heading toward the end of their time on this earth, as well as people who are honoring lives of loved ones whose spirits left before their bodies did. I’ve never been one of those people who feared death or worried about it much, but I have always been intrigued about the legacies our loved ones leave behind. So, I’m going to share some stories that have been causing me to think. Some readers who are mutual friends may be familiar with some of these, but I’m not naming names.

Coincidentally, I spent some time this afternoon with my friend Holly, who’s documenting graves at Walkers Creek Cemetery. This one was like a jigsaw puzzle.

The Strong Spirits

My colleagues at La Leche League tend to be people of great fortitude and spiritual depth. My very first role model in living a good life while facing death was my mentor, Roberta Bishop Johnson, who shared many insights and nuggets while she dealt with breast cancer in the 1990s. She made sure she was participating in the lives of her friends, offering up ideas, and sharing her love for her family right up until when she passed. That stuck with me.

Two of my other long-time LLL friends are nearing the ends of their journeys here with us, and both have been incredibly open about sharing their ups and downs, feelings about their bodies and what’s happening to them, and coming to terms with the fact that things are winding down. I really appreciate their openness and willingness to share.

Not everyone is up to doing this; I’ve known people who didn’t share what was going on with them at all, which is a completely understandable option, but takes away their friends and families’ ability to share life with them as fully as possible while they are here. But I get it; people don’t want to appear to whine, to bring others down, or to share the painful details.

For me, learning about how these two women have made sure to do things they’ve always wanted to do, while they can (one married the love of her life, and one made sure to get in travel with her children, especially to the beach), how they carefully planned for things after they are gone, and how they enjoyed their friends and family to the fullest all contributed to making me much more comfortable with dying on your own terms. I’m not saying they are lucky, but they do have the luxury of knowing what is happening and being able to plan accordingly. I know my dad would have liked that chance, so much.

One thing that comforts me greatly about knowing I won’t have these friends around much longer is that I know their spirits and legacies will remain. After Roberta passed away, I could still hear her tell me what she thought about what I was doing in my life. And I also still hear my dad (and tell him stuff; I can’t help it). We will feel these generous friends with us for years.

This tree growing around a t-post reminds me of the struggle to fight unwelcome things growing inside us. Sometimes you just have to accept them and keep growing anyway.

The Ones Whose Losses Happened before Death

Another set of friends I’ve learned a lot from in the past few weeks are two dear local friends whose mothers passed away recently, but had been gone in spirit since an Alzheimer’s diagnosis. These women felt like they’d lost their parents long before they actually passed away.

One just had the memorial get-together with her extended family, and it was more of a nice gathering to share good memories and enjoy each other. The mourning had happened years ago, when they lost her personality, or essence, or something. The other friend seems to have gone more into business mode, of taking care of details. She had been so kind to her mother, though, even with the difficulties of COVID. Who could blame her for feeling some relief and just wanting to move on to the next phase?

I feel a lot of sympathy for these people and their families. They’re sad, yet relieved that their parents aren’t dealing with confusion now (though, I know some people with dementia who are happy just as they are…it varies so much).

Takeaways

Watching all these events as a third party, not intimately involved like families are, has taught me some lessons, maybe not consciously. I think the reason I’ve gotten a second horse and plan to start lessons again is that I want to do these things while I still can. And getting a swimming pool installed and making the ranch house look better, too, were things I’d been putting off or giving up on. But, if I can’t have fun now, when am I supposed to?

To show how far I will go to make things fun, I spent quite some time trying to line up my head and my hat so it would look like I am wearing a tiny cowboy hat.

AND, as I’ve been telling myself for the last couple of years, I need to recommit to being with people who bring me joy and make my life pleasant, go places and do things that expand my mind, and take the time to find the fun in whatever I’m doing. I think that’s the key to enjoying whatever time we have here in this life–enjoying where you are and who you are with NOW.

With love in my heart for my friends heading toward big transitions or recovering from them, I invite you all to do something fun with someone you care about.