Look at the Bright Side

It is holiday time and the losses hurt less than they did last year, but things still hurt.

Most of Larry's friends have disappeared which makes me VERY grateful for the ones that have remained and bother to stay in touch...Steve Heberling and Fahad Javaid, Bob Theer.

Larry's daughter has a handful of Larry's ashes and has ignored all phone calls and Facebook requests for months to get them. (My half were lost in the fire) He wanted me to scatter them in two specific locations and I gave her half of the ashes and she scattered all but a handful in one spot.   I can think of no reason why she is ignoring me.  So it's hard to know I may never be able to honor his wishes.  I do continue to have Jordan, his son, to my house once a month, in fact, he is here now.

I am still really stinging my former town's treatment towards me.

Those are the things that still really hurt.  What I can take from my losses is that I have the unique advantage of appreciating ten fold when things feel good.  When I look around my home, most of my possessions were donated to me and I feel so grateful for what people did for me physically.

But do things feel good right now?  Sometimes.  I still have a situation that is very stressful for me that I need to change.  I am taking steps to change the stress but it is hard to change something when you feel like you are drowning.  I need a break of some kind.  

I am overeating to compensate although I would really like to feel vital and healthy, I can't seem to break the habit.  That makes my Fibromyalgia flare up so I am in a LOT of pain on a daily basis.  Between the physical pain and the stressful situation, I have been very forgetful which bothers me because people feel like you don't care about them when you forget to do something, say something, be somewhere to meet them.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

Yes, there are a lot worse situations than mine, but I kind of hate when people try to make me look at the bright side.  I do look at the bright side and I feel that I'm healing quickly BECAUSE I allow myself to feel bad as well as good.  How many of the people who want me to look at the bright side have been through the death of their life partner, a fire where there was no water, lost all their possessions and a pet all in the span of 9 months? That's two-thirds of what I called family.

If life looked like how I wanted it to look, people would call me and offer to come over or share a meal or a movie simply to acknowledge that things must still be difficult.  My Mom who knows the pain of loosing a child does.  I'm lucky to have her.

Here's the refrain of what people do, they see me and say, "You look fantastic."  I don't feel like I look fantastic at all so I don't really trust that.   Maybe it's the hot pink lipstick.

A promise kept

Just finished up teaching the monthly Video Camera Basics Class and packing some things for my big trip to France.  After Larry passed.  I had to ask myself what would make me happy.  The only thing I could think of was being in a place that had happy memories...France.  I made a promise to myself to go and off I go again to visit the same friends in the same places and I don't mind this a bit.  It feels like home.  

Speaking of home.  Everyone who visits my new home in Bordentown expresses more or less these words, "this house is so adorable, it's so you." And it has been such a safe haven.  Those who know the extreme trouble it was for me to get this house due to my firebug status in the insurance world also know that I almost gave up.  In fact it was touch and go up until the last hour.  I'm glad that it all worked out.  I'm having such a good time in my new town.  I ended up with really great neighbors on each side.  Oakley is so happy to have a yard again.  She doesn't care that it's about 1/20th of the size...she only cares that I'm there and that there are squirrels to chase.

So what still gets me down?  Occasionally, the fact that I have no family heirlooms.  But mostly, it is still extremely stressful to both run a business and have a part time job.  I don't have a whole lot of free time, but I do have some and I schedule some.

I am still pretty upset by almost all of Larry's friends abandoning me.  Now that the fire has wiped out physical memories, it's as if our life together never happened.  If you're thinking that maybe they don't know it's important to me, they know.  The words came out of my mouth and fell on deaf ears.  If I can take one thing away from this, however, is how special the few that remained are to me.

My blood still boils when I think about my former mayor and how the local government treated me.  Man, you would think I was an arsonist.  They were downright cruel and wrong.

My small romances of last month have come to a screeching halt, but that's ok.  France is waiting for me and that's been a long standing romance since I was young.

Hitting the Lottery

It is almost midnight and I am making potato salad for a small party.  Normally, it would totally annoy me that I need to complete tasks this late in the day but I had my first fantastic day post fire.  I have been taking a bunch of risks with people and things and I hit the lottery today.

I have been slightly lonely at my new home in Bordentown so I stuck a letter in neighbor's mailbox inviting her over.  She came over tonight and it was a home run visit.  Then, I stuck another letter in my next door neighbor's mailbox explaining why my dog is running around the yard when I'm not home (because I'm working long hours and I can't find a dog walker yet) and asked if he had a power drill.  The power drill arrived tonight and both neighbors are going to take turns walking Oakley while I am in France (soon) at no charge (are you jealous yet?) and they put me in touch with someone who knows a dogwalker in Bordentown.

While sipping really good wine, the neighbor who saved me from slight loneliness told me she has had the best times of her life while living in this neighborhood.  We have already shared an incident on the street which has us all bonding and laughing about it weeks after it happened.

I am also apparently a man magnet these days.  Here's my recipe...let your hair go grey, gain a lot of weight, wear hand me down clothes donated post fire, talk about your dead husband.  Oh, don't forget to have not one but two tragedies to be sure you've got a lot of emotional baggage.  Be dissatisfied with at least one major part of your life.  Yep, that's the recipe.  I've done everything wrong.  I must have one heck of a personality.  Many of my stories about romance are very funny, one involves a man confessing that he's a sex and love addict and inviting me to visit his homeland of Columbia in the next breath.  (I have a witness)   Another involves a man trapped in a jail cell at my workplace.  (Again, I have a witness).

 Suddenly, life is light and fun sometimes and recovery seems possible.  I deserve this.

R&R

I moved into my permanent home on my 51st birthday a week ago Friday.  Things are resolving with lightening speed these days.  I have a permanent place to live, my land is completely cleared and almost ready to sell (one thing left to resolve), Larry's estate is almost settled, I've ultimately decided not to sue my former township.  So things that were making my blood boil are 99 percent complete.  Now we're down to petty annoyances because I'm still tired and grouchy from the ordeal of the fire and loosing both Larry and Montana.   Most of my to do list was comprised of things that I had to do and not things I wanted to do but that is slowly shifting and changing.   I sat in my new backyard with a cup of coffee this am and listened to the soft zee zee of cedar waxwings, watched a Carolina wren climb down my Rose of Sharon tree.  Said hello to a pair of cardinals as they quickly landed on my fence, discovered me and moved on, listened to the sleepy chirp of crickets and neighbors going about their Saturday morning routine.  Oakley barked and pointed at some squirrels performing acrobatics from the tall pine trees beyond my property and sniffed the air; happy to have a yard again.

Inside, the house has tons of character and all who see it  say, "yes, this house feels like you".  And so not only do I have my faithful companion of a dog to love, a dog who probably saved my sanity, but I have a new home to love and play house in, decorate and clean and cook.. This is the type of home where, with so many vestiges of the past,  it just feels right to have bacon, eggs and toast for breakfast and iced tea in a earthenware pitcher and a pie to share when friends come.

Yes, there is finally a place to rest and recover.

The Moment

Anyone who has been through a big loss will relate to what I am about to say.  There is a moment in time after a tragedy where you realize that things are going to be ok either because you have a day which was entirely good or because there is a moment where you laugh your ass off.  I can say this because I've been through four tragedies.   Today, that moment came.

I have been staying over at my newly purchased home more and more.  It is not quite ready as I've needed a lot of repair work before I could get insurance (don't ask).  Purchasing the house, clearing my land from the fire, the permits, the multiple phone calls...it's been grueling.  My former township treats me like the anti-Christ so when a neighbor in my new neighborhood said she wanted to talk to me, I wondered what I had done wrong...turns out she wanted to invite me to her 89th birthday party.  Mrs. Johnson or "Mother" Johnson or as I found out today, Catherine Precious Johnson is a petite African American woman with a love for plastic flowers, nicknacks, candy and all things Christian.   Usually the party is held on my tiny one block street.   Today it was catered at a hall.  I was the first neighbor to arrive but soon found the other neighbors joining me as we made polite chit chat, listened to speakers profess their love for Mrs. Johnson and ate soul food.

The event was pretty much how someone summed it up for me, not exciting, not boring.  That all changed on a dime when Mrs Johnson spoke about God granting her the wish to play piano. According to her, God had given her the ability through prayer alone.  I thought it was cute when, with childlike enthusiasm and innocence, she asked if we wanted to hear her play.  The sound that came out of those 89 year old hands was not to be believed.  It was completely bizarre and dissonant, but Mrs. Johnson played us three songs with fervor while my future neighbors and I were not able to speak or look each other in the eye.  This was straight out of Saturday Night Live.  When finished, someone finally said to me, "Welcome to the neighborhood" where I had to further stifle my laughter.

As soon as I got out of the hall and into my car.  I laughed for at least 10 minutes straight with tears streaming down my face and belly hurting.

Yes, I think things are going to get better from now on.

Fast Lane

There was no movement for a long time and now, in a few short days after my last blog, life is speeding ahead in the fast lane for the better and I have a lot of gratitude.

I didn't anticipate that the fire would ruin my ability to get insurance.  It stalled the purchase of a new home and at one point I backed out.  But things (somewhat) worked out and closing is tomorrow.   I say somewhat because the insurance I got is less than ideal and there is a contingency that I need to remove this outdated electrical system called knob and tube. I also need a significant amount of unanticipated work done to the house in order to get better insurance, but despite this dark cloud over the purchase, like a storm, it will pass.  I will move in and give the home a lot of love.  Oakley will have a yard again and a new dog friend-a one-eyed dog named Joline.  The path we will take for morning and evening dog walks is a stunning view of the Delaware River on one side and historical homes on the other.  I can walk into town or down to the river.  None of these things could happen by in a condo or townhouse where there is no yard and pit bull mixes are not allowed.

Simultaneously, the people who own the building where I work at my afternoon job are locking the doors tomorrow so I am also moving my office today, unexpectedly.  Found out two days ago. Although the new space is less than ideal, I am looking forward to the move for several reasons...mostly because I feel the building that I work in should be condemned.  The roof leaks extensively and has ruined the floors and I smell mold everywhere.  The rain has also caused the walls and ceiling to crumble over the past several years and recently, huge chunks of the ceiling have fallen.  Yes, I actually work there and nobody but me seems to have an issue with the environmental problems that may be present.

In the new space, I've been given charge of what colors to paint the space.  This is like giving me candy.  I enjoy thinking about color much more than the average person. There will be life in the new space instead of going to a place where I feel completely drained by the surroundings alone.

So I am happier simply because there is movement in my life instead of the years of limbo I've been in. (I've known the television station was moving since I accepted the job four years ago.)

My dog Oakley got cast in a production of Oliver in Morrisville, PA.  Our journey together has been wonderful.  A really difficult dog, she has turned into a great pet because I took the time to try to understand her and I can't believe that she's trained well enough (and wants to please) that I can give her over to a stranger and say, "yep, she'll follow you and sit and stay for you."

It seems that Oliver needs a good singer for the adult chorus so I might be in the production as well.  Auditioning Monday and am totally confident about it.  And it doesn't matter so much to me if I get it or not, so no big deal.   I never really saw myself doing community theater, but this might be fun.

Yes, I just might be having some fun soon.

Feeling small

I've been really feeling the grief over the last couple of days.   Larry and I were such outdoor people and  I looked forward to kicking back Friday night on our deck (which Larry built) watching fireflies over a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.  Now, I tend to work.  I am hoping to work less and start to cook more and get out into nature more so the nerd in me can identify dragonflies and moths and other flying things...but most of all sing more--three things I know that I love.  All of my single friends will agree that there is something lonely about the weekends.

I met up with the three other members of my grief group last week.  We're all young, but I'm the baby.  One woman mentioned that she felt the vulnerability of a five year old after her husband's death and as if she were just going through the motions of living.  I think with the death and the fire I would say I feel three years old.  Some days I just feel so raw and vulnerable and small that I want to curl up in ball and never go outside.   I feel safe with the only thing left...my dog, who comes running and licks my face whenever I start crying and curls up next to me.

There have been such peculiar situations surrounding my purchase of a house and clean up of the land where my former house stood that I am wiped out physically, emotionally, financially.  The sale of the house was on again off again for days due to my inability to get insurance; something I never thought about after the fire.  I had to emotionally detach from the situation.  I close on Friday but I needed to stop caring about whether or not I got this house in order to just get through it.  Looks like it is now happening, but it is hard to be enthusiastic.  I hope that I get more enthusiastic as time goes on.  It will be nice to open the back door to let Oakley out instead of needing to walk her the minute I get up because my back yard is a parking lot.

The rug still feels like it has been pulled out from under me and I wonder how long it will take to feel normal again.  I felt stronger than I anticipated after Larry passed and shocked at how the aftermath of the fire has left me reeling.  Most people feel my strength, but it would be helpful to hear just what people are seeing...is that just something people say just to be polite?

Complications and Selfish Bitches

I have needed to keep publicly silent for a LONG time for reasons I can't go into and it has not felt good.  Thing have shifted, I've taken action that I needed time to reflect on and it feels safe to post a blog entry again.  I know...cryptic, right?  Sorry.

I feel extremely misunderstood by people lately. Yesterday, a friend of Larry's called me a selfish bitch.  Part of me is insulted, another part delighted to know that all vestiges of a teenager and young adult who was extremely meek and mild is gone.  Lots of people are upset with me right now and it's hard to hold.  What is it about humans that we want to be understood.  If I could give that up, I could have more peace around it.  Is everyone happy with our role models?...of course not.  They were pioneers and risk takers and brave and that's why we love them.  The are human and flawed and critiqued and that's ok.  So, selfish bitch?  I'm ok with it.  

It shocks me that almost six months post fire, I do not feel at peace.  The more people question and doubt my actions, the more I feel scared, like a cornered animal wanting to lash out.   I cannot believe the difference in stress level between Larry's death and the fire.  The fire has been far more difficult and more complex to deal with.  I still struggle with days where it feels like it would be easier if I didn't exist.  And I know that if I just wait long enough, things will get better.  There is an intensity and immediacy to things right now.

So let me just share with you one particular situation that I CAN go into detail about.  I am at the tail end of purchasing a home--a home that I really love in the kind of town I'd like to be in.  I've been dropped from my insurance policy basically because the fire cost them too much.  So now I'm on some kind of insurance blacklist and many phone calls and tears later, finally found a company willing to insure me.  But because I'm purchasing a historical home, the stipulations for getting the insurance get complicated and they propose is a situation where they will tell me what repairs I have to make and I have 30 days to make them which leaves me wondering how much money I will need to spend in that 30 days...$200 or $200,000?  It's a crap shoot.  Everything, I'm sure, will work out the way it is supposed to, but this is one of several insane situations resulting from the fire.

So please heed my  cautionary tale.  Douse all fires, take your fire pits (I would never have one) and chimenias and make sure they are not even remotely in an area where embers could spread.  Unplug your appliances after use including toasters.  Do not place grills next to wooden fences (that's where the sellers of my house have their grill which I will move within one hour of occupancy if I get the house).   Call in the fire department now and ask what part you can take in fire prevention.   Your life after a fire will be hell for a while and if your fire affected your neighbors the way mine did, you will feel guilt believe me, regardless of whose fault it was.  I would never in a million years believe that life after a fire would be far worse than loosing a spouse, after all, a fire is just stuff, but that's the way it's been for me.  I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

Remedies

My doctor gave me an Rx for a forced vacation and it did me a world of good. I was drowning in work.  I lost hours of client work from the fire that I had to recreate.  I have to recreate a paper  trail of my life, passport and past taxes, etc.  I have had new client work.  Because I'm now in a condo and can't let Oakley out the back door, I have a small challenge of finding a dogwalker if I have to work late or want to go out.  So due to my daily grind extreme  I lost the will to live for a little while. I've remedied this with the forced vacation and hired a good assistant temporarily.  But life has handed me other remedies.

I can't even tell you how excited I am to move to a new home in this quirky, historic town where there are no sad memories of Larry.  Yesterday, I got through a critical step of the home buying process.   I had to hire a geophysicist to take sonar pictures of the ground to search for an oil tank.  Luckily for all, there is no sign of an oil tank ever having been on the property.   I joked to my assistant that the geophysicist would find the hidden treasure and that I could split it with the owners.  I can't help but wish for a Disney ending and I know someone in France who found medieval coins while renovating their home and they were able to retire.  The geophysicist did find an old bottle so God had a little fun with me and my treasure fantasy.

Speaking of France, when Larry died, I asked myself what would make me happy again.  Memories of vacations to France visiting my college friends Christine and Thierry are magical.  My next vacation to France is booked for September.  Christine and Thierry are picking me up from the airport.

There's a whole lot to look forward to and it has shifted in just the past few weeks.  Now that I am through all of the milestones of Larry's birthday and holidays and his passing, I feel lighter and I value the time that we were partnered, but I'd like to trade the sad memories for happy memories of Larry, his generosity, how fun he was.   My load is finally a little lighter but I won't refuse the Disney ending should it come along.

At last, a vision for the future.

Truth be told, I continue to be pretty sad and overwhelmed. Luckily, a random visit to my physician ended up in a prescription for two weeks off.  I already feel less overwhelmed just two days in.  I've been dealing with overwhelm by indulging in  wine and cheese parties for one resulting in a whopping weight gain.  I now don't fit into most of my donated clothes post fire.  What makes me angry with myself is that THIS is something I can control.... but I choose not to.

On a more positive note, I've been back to my former neighborhood quite a bit and the more I go back, the more I accept that even if it were possible to rebuild, it makes me sad to go back.  There is just a heaviness of painful memories.  There is a whole lot of loss wrapped up in that empty lot.  Which leads me to some good news...I've put a bid in on a house.  I've seen 20-30 houses and I've only been enthusiastic about two.  One was a little rich for my pocketbook and when Larry passed (it will be a year this week) I was well aware of what life was like putting all of your paycheck into bills.  I didn't want to recreate that "all work and no play" existence.

Bordentown is a lovely and somewhat funky town with lots of history and Ocean Spray headquarters.  Since I love historical homes, I put a bid in on  a Philadelphia style row home from 1820.  It has original floors in the living room and is just enough house for me.  The rooms are tiny, but it also won't cost a lot to decorate them.  The backyard feels very cottage-like and the yard is small enough that all I would need is an old-fashioned hand mower.  At least I won't be spending five hours per week on my former yard.  This house is walking distance to a beautiful riverside park and two blocks from a thriving downtown.  I wanted to live in Lambertville, but this is the next best thing.  Lambertville is next to the Delaware River too, but it floods.  Bordentown is on a bluff 400 feet above sea level.  The riverside park is along this bluff and it's about 30 seconds by foot from my potential future home.

Of course, I'm assuming that I'm going to get the house.  I think I would be kind of devastated if I didn't since in my mind, I've moved in with Oakley and my future doggie Joline.  Oakley really needs to focus on another dog and she really enjoyed her role as big sister.

Joline is a dog I've been helping out at a shelter.  She's trouble.  I tend to pick dogs with big problems.  Luckily having had no children, I have the time and energy to rehab troubled dogs and I LOVE it. I feel very happy to help dogs overcome their past and it's one way I try to give back to this thing called life.  

So finally, I have a future that I can envision and that is helping the depression, even if it does not come to pass.  The home and Joline might not happen, but I sure hope they do.

future Joline- yes, she only has one eye.  Maybe she can wear a patch, like a pirate.

Shaky Faith

I am trying to "stay strong"  I am struggling to have a will to live some days.  Since Larry got diagnosed two years ago, there's been an imbalance of work to fun.  I desperately want a Disney ending...Some angel group decides to rebuild an eco house on my property for a price I can afford, donated appliances.   I get Oakley a new dog friend.  The water company gives me a check to help me buy things for the interior of my new home.  I loose the weight I've put on since the fire and then some.  I can afford to have a lawn service and house cleaners so that I can concentrate on my clients more and have more fun as an artist.

Support has died down, a video that I've been working on for years is near completion and now that these carrots are over, I need another carrot.  I look at houses every weekend and I thought that was going to be fun...not in my price range it's not.

I wish I could turn back the clock.  I even wish I could turn it back just far enough that I still had Montana and a backyard for the dogs.

Work is confusing.  There's a lot of upheaval and turmoil which I can't go into in this blog.  We are moving to a new place on May 1.  We're moving from a crumbling building to a building that according to my boss is less than ideal.  Excited?  No, but at least the walls will not be crumbling and the roof won't be leaking.

I used to believe that miracles happen every day and there has been a lot of incredibly nice things that people have done for me after the fire.  But my faith has been shaken. I used to be a big believer in the law of attraction. That doesn't mean that bad things don't happen, it means that you have a bigger container to hold it all and when the fire first happened, I felt like my belief system had equipped me to handle this.  But lately, I'm more of a "life sucks and then you die" kind of gal.  Maybe there is no happy ending you just move on.

I'm approaching the one year mark for Larry's birthday and death.

No Place to Call Home.

It is again wee hours of the morning when I can't sleep.  I don't remember the last time I slept soundly for an entire week.  It's been over a year since I slept normally.

I am so angry about the fire now that the dust has settled.  I am angry that it is such a struggle to find a nice place to live and that I can't hold someone legally responsible for no water in the hydrants.  I am angry that I have not been able to take time off of work to just get a few things done.

I found a beautiful, small, manageable modular home.  I was not open to them in the beginning until I saw them.  I picked an eco-company because they made the whole process simple and eco building certainly fits my values.  First call they told me...A...you can't afford us....and B....you need to dig up your foundation and re-pour a foundation based on our unique, steel frame construction.  So dream home #1 was out and although there was some hints of angel groups rebuilding for me,  none of them have come forward.  

So I started looking at houses.  I have fallen in love with one in Morrisville, PA however, as I am crunching numbers, I am suspecting that I'd be right back in the situation I was in pre-fire...working long, long hours just to pay bills.  So although dream house #2 isn't completely out, it isn't completely in either.  I'm frittering my time away this am.  I need to buckle down and get to work on some overdue graphics in these wee morning hours, but who can blame me for some indulgences?  I need life to feel sweet again and it is full of difficult memories and a difficult to do list. Six phone calls and two visits to banks later, I am able to pay off a loan.  You wouldn't think paying somebody would be so difficult.  Only one person at TD bank bothered to say, "I'm so sorry for your losses."  Do I sound bitter?  I am today.  I'm pissed off that I've been through emotional hell and I can't sue.  Larry's death was bearable.  I was coming along.  The fire and loss of Montana and possessions is too much for me.  I am not doing as well.  I am not "coming along"  It is a real struggle for me to concentrate, to help people at either job.  Noise bothers me.  I yell at the dog a lot (condos and Oakley are not compatible).  People having a good time bothers me.  People complaining bothers me.  I am just still very much in grief mode- new grief, different grief.

Don't get me wrong, there have been many sweet moments, they just don't seem to sustain me.  They ARE what is getting me through, however.  A phone call to ask how I am, someone showing up with dinner, my Mom making my bed, friends offering to walk Oakley so that I can catch my breath.

I feel guilt for complaining.  There are people who have life far worse than me.  I am in a nice condo, I have two jobs that I like, people have shown an outpouring of support.  You're just hearing a worn out person.

I am starting to have some good days and am anxious for the time when I'll have more than two good days in a row.  I do love spring and it seems to be coming.  Maybe then.

Happy Ending

It is the day before a big benefit for me.  I just received a very good massage that was donated to me.  I should be happy.  I am not.  I am trying to get my video equipment to function the way I need because I am way behind on my freelance work.   Right now, I want the luxury of watching mindless tv.   Instead, my editing software is crashing and the dog still needs walking and emails still need replied to.    

I had my heart set on rebuilding with this particular green modular company.  There are many obstacles and I don't think they can all be overcome.  I need to start from scratch thinking about a place to live but I'd like to at least have made up my mind on a direction.

I want to go out to find a good snack to make up for the horrible dinner that I made myself.  I so badly want a happy ending to three difficult years.    I guess a little desperation is normal under the circumstances.

Rebuild

Every day, emotions about the fire are so tumultuous that I can't even sort out where to begin.  For example, I was all set to find a house in Lambertville; a town where I've always wanted to live. Then I looked at property taxes and the houses in my price range all have 1 bathroom (not great for resale or your guest) so I then decided that the ease of a condo would be good, only, I found out through my dog rescue friends that condo associations sometimes change their minds about whether they want your pitbull.  On top of it, I'm in a condo now and it's challenging for Oakley with everyone coming and going and lots of noises to bark at and my view is a parking lot.  The place where I am living is corporate housing and a friend who has lived in plenty of places like this told me I would get tired of it quickly.  I am.  I can't really open my blinds facing a parking lot and I miss having a view.  Which leads me to my next decision.  Rebuilding.  I can afford a modular home.  When it was first suggested, I thought they were ugly, but I found a company that builds beautiful, green homes and I am going to go with one of those.  I'm actually excited.  I can keep my dog (and adopt another) The look of the home is very artistic with very clean lines, very modern looking and the company takes a lot of the headache out of rebuilding.  The home even comes with appliances.

In addition, the neighbors' support has been so heartwarming and I realize that most people are looking have emotional attachment.

And to top off all the good stuff, the icing on the cake is that a microbrewery is moving to Ewing. You do know what follows?  Farm to table restaurants!

The Commonalities of Tragedy

After the fire, I was wrapped in a cocoon of understanding and sympathy for about two weeks.  It is now a month and a week after my house fire.  Things feel very complicated.  I haven't had much time to recover from the fire and am trying to squeeze in buying things like plastic food containers so I make my lunch in a bowl and cover it with saran wrap right now.  That's just one little inconvenience.  There are a plethora of inconveniences.  I toy with taking some time off of work, but I can't really abandon my freelance business or even put it aside.  Not sure what to do.  Want to hide from the world for a while but my life is not set up that way. I did not answer the phone yesterday when certain people who push my buttons called.  That was the best form of hiding I could muster.

I've been through four tragedies - my brother 13 years ago, my husband, my dog Montana in the fire, and a total house fire.  What they have in common is that people you don't expect to come through do, some people you thought were your friends abandon you, and it takes longer than you want it to to recover.

So there continues to be wonderful, heartwarming actions such as councilwoman Jennifer Keyes planning a benefit for me despite the fact that I filed a lawsuit with the town.

 I continue to be hurt by Larry's best friend who I have not seen since the funeral.  The background is that one day shortly after the funeral, I called him in tears saying that I missed him being at the house and asked him to just spend time with me.  There was dead silence on the other end of the phone.  I have never seen him.  Despite an email after the fire saying, "OMG, what can we do to get you up and running?" I have never even received a phone call from him..oh, excuse me, one just after the funeral.  I decided to suck it up because of the upcoming benefit on March 13.  We were in Larry's band together and the opportunity to play together was obvious.  Band mate Jeff and I invited him to play at the benefit via email.  No response.  So now I feel doubly hurt about this.  It's probably not about me, in fact, I wonder what is wrong with the man that he seems to have so little compassion for me, but it continues to feel so very personal.

Montana is on my mind this morning.  I used to make the dogs do tricks for their food.  Montana and Oakley are both part pit bull, they need to know that I'm in charge and they are not.  Any incident with a pit bull could mean forced euthanasia and making dogs work for their food puts me in charge and minimizes risk of them biting anyone.  Montana's tricks were done with such silly enthusiasm.  I miss her silly energy.  I miss Montana so much that I need to take a moment right now.

I usually read over these blogs to edit them and I just don't have the energy right now.

Gathering Evidence

It's kind of amazing to have a house fire where absolutely nothing is left and yet still have little bits and pieces of that former life.  I had several photos that Larry took in my office along with one wedding photo and a photo of both dogs.  Friends are giving me footage of Larry's performances.  I had one CD in my car.  I grabbed my pocketbook so I had lipstick after the fire (and most of my ID!).  The Internet has helped me to piece back together my graphic art portfolio.  I had one of my hard drives at work so some of my earlier video files are on it.  So there is evidence that the former life existed!

A friend who works for the Red Cross suggested that I might have an easier time than someone with a partial loss of a home because I won't be surrounded by memories of the fire.   I believe she is right.  I don't know if it's the extreme amount of things you need to do after a fire or the fact that I am not surrounded by memories of Larry but the grief from Larry's death seems to have subsided.  Don't get me wrong, I'm definitely grieving,  but Larry's death gave me nothing to look forward to.  It weighed my spirit down and getting rid of his stuff seemed endless not to mention that I suddenly took over a lot of debt.  I seemed to work non-stop and developed some bad habits with wine and cheese parties for one.    The fire wiped the slate clean and although I'm impatient for my permanent home, I'm excited about my temporary home in Princeton.

The Princeton condo is waiting for me Wednesday.  It can't come soon enough.  The people whose house I am at did not anticipate me coming so my new belongings are as organized as they can be in a place where I can't store things.  It feels so transient as does my life at the TV station where we've been looking for a new home for  3-1/2 years.  

Fresh Wound

Some things got harder, more complicated and painful after the fire.  From the friend who suggested that I wasn't using the chimenia properly, to a next door neighbor who is not being reimbursed his full amount for the fire damage to his house, to dealing with Larry's former human resource manager who makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up and speaks to me as if I'm a naughty schoolgirl.  Life is about running around asking people to do things out of the goodness of their heart because, no, I don't have a second form of ID, no, I don't have my account number.  It's 2:44 am as I type.  Sleeping has been erratic.

One of the most painful things about Larry's death has been the lack of communication from Larry's friends.  They were a tight knit group who seemed to really embrace me during the nine years Larry and I were together.   Did they grow to dislike me or is death just too painful for them to walk through it with me?  I got some emails from a few after the fire, but not one of them, including Larry's two best friends, have picked up the phone to see how I am.  Larry and his two best friends and I were all in a band together .  A few people got together  and decided to hold a fundraiser for me.  I put aside my resentment about the two best friends and invited them to perform.  One of them declined, the other totally ignored the request.  I don't think it's about me, but it hurts and yes, I do think he got the email.  

Of course, the hardest thing about the fire is being without my Montana.  What a sweet soul.  I miss wrapping my arms around her and her silliness.  Montana was my sensitive artist,  full of quirks that only I understood.  

On the flip side, I move on Wednesday.  The move will do many positive things for me.  It will put me much closer to my afternoon workplace in Princeton, close to a lot of convenient stores,  the NYC train station and a ton of organic/healthy food sources and Princeton friends and clients.  I will have a pool on the premises.  

I know from Larry's death that the rushing around slows down and the pain subsides but this is a fresh wound that has re-opened some of the old.  

Three and a half years ago, when I accepted a job as operations manager of a public access television station, my entire work life changed for the better.  I've been given creative opportunities and won awards and feel pretty fulfilled.  The thing that keeps me from pitying myself is suspecting that there is even more of that coming and the possibility that so much radical, forced change will usher in many unique opportunities for me.   

Joanne's House

Well, things are quite different and something totally bizarre and tragic has happened.  About a week ago, I had a friend over, we had a fire in the outdoor fireplace.  The wind picked up the embers and blew them under the deck where a fire started while I was sleeping.   I lost my entire house and one of my beloved dogs.  To make the story even a little stranger, there was no water pressure in any of the hydrants in my neighborhood so when the fire department finally got water 1/2 hour later, they had to save the two houses next to mine and let mine burn completely to the ground.  Oh yes, this actually happened.

There's been an outpouring of community support and of course, my life is extremely busy trying to get my life back to normal.  There is only one thing left that is the same as before Larry died.  My second  job.

Right now I'm living at friends of my parents who are away so Oakley and I are guarding their house. In a few weeks I will move into a townhouse in Princeton Junction for nine months.  My needs now will be different than my needs in a few weeks which will be different when I have to move out of the townhouse and get my own place.  Which leads me to Joann's house.

I spoke with the mayor of our town who was fairly unsympathetic  The fire department offered space to store furniture and offered to try to find Larry's ashes.  Oh yes, those are gone too.  The same day, a woman with whom I have a casual working relationship invited me to her house to see if I could use some of her furniture so I said sure.

Her style was really similar to the kind I like, the house felt energetic and cottage-like with a hand-made charm.  I loved almost every piece she offered.  I was kind of shocked at how easy it was to settle down in her home, let her whip up a simple dinner and share thoughts.  But she reads this blog and the few who read it really like it and I realized that she knows some pretty intimate stuff about me that helped her be comfortable with who I am.  The goal of this blog was to help other widows and widowers, but like the fire creating a clean slate, life is taking unexpected twists and turns and I'm so happy that I have a place to voice the good, the bad and the ugly.  

The one strange thing is that Larry's death left me feeling abandoned.  The fire is completely the opposite.  The neighborhood children canvassed for funds for me in the bitter cold last week, complete strangers give me funds on my online go fund me page.   Life feels unsettling, but I feel more connected to humans since the fire.    

Remains

I need to get this out in writing.  This event has been on my mind and troubling me and I feel a bit paralyzed and sad. 

My step daughter came to see me for the first time since Larry's funeral.  It's been a strained relationship at times and she blew off visits five times before so I made her commit to a specific time and she showed.  It was a good visit and somewhat healing--some things were explained.  Part of her visit was to get half of Larry's ashes.  That was my promise to her.    That container has sat in the living room since the funeral.  I unceremoniously poured what was my husband's body into a Ziploc bag over the kitchen sink.  There were fragments of bone like I had been warned.  I have been overeating a lot.  Food is comforting.  I didn't think this event would affect me so much, but that night I ate anything that wasn't nailed down. I feel miserable about my weight gain, but stopping feels insurmountable.