Still whacked out by the holidays.

I forgot that I have this file full of handouts on grief that I got from the hospice. I'm so exhausted emotionally. I've been so full of rage and hatred and sadness. Anyway in this file the majority of handouts are on dealing with the holidays. Here's one quote, 'Unfortunately American cultural mores place a virtual embargo on sadness during the holiday season and the consequent mandate to be jolly and cheerful makes the depressed person feel worse.' And another, 'Much holiday depression stems from the almost inevitable disappointment that follows the grandiose expectations people carry over from childhood based either on real memories or unfulfilled fantasies.'

I'm putting this post up so that next year I can look at it to a. remind me to read the handouts and b. read the handouts!

One more thing I just read, it's a bit cheesy but it just helped me to not feel alone.

The mother of a dead child
will always weep
at Christmas time
on that you can depend.

No matter how many people
or how many presents
the pulsating void that seems too large
for her heart to hold
keeps on drawing her attention
back to the child who's missing.

As others laugh and play
her thoughts fly away
to Christmases past
or a lonely cemetery.

To a face her heart aches to be kissing

The face of the child who's missing.

by Fay Harden.

Tomorrow it will be three and a half years..

Note to self read this next December.

Happy Christmas

Wigwam Pam

I wrote this poem after Pam came to Santa Fe to spend Christmas with me in 2003.  

I suppose it still applies Pam...wherever you are my love...

Wigwam Pam
Telephone ma'am
Your heart in a clam
You had the same plan

Wigwam Pam
You also ran
As fast as you can
From the same man

La la la la pretty girl la
Do you know where you are?
Did you travel really far?
La la la la pretty girl lee
Did you set yourself free?
Did you find your own tree?

Wigwam Pam
Your Uncle Sam
Says don't give a damn
Live if you can

I Remember Sky..

2001. Outside the inn in Newport, Rhode Island where Pam was working.  She is hugging our nephew Billy and one of the Irish girls.  With Mum and Dad and that's me behind them.

I remember sky is a song I used to sing when I was an actress going for auditions for musicals.  “I remember sky. It was blue as ink, or at least I think I remember sky.”  It makes me feel like crying.  Like now here I am today finding life a pain in the ass because my back is aching like mad, it’s really dragging me down.  How can I be so misery-ish when I’ve lost you Pam?  I’m sorry.  You probably think, “Well girl enjoy life, you are alive and I’m not!”  Or perhaps you are thinking, “Actually I’m frigging glad it’s over and I don’t have to suffer backache like you today ha ha!”  Well, which one is it Pam?  I wish you could tell me now.  It’s such a bore when I’m ill, it makes me very serious and at a loss as to how to respond to it.  I looked at myself in the mirror and I said, “You don’t know what to do to look after yourself when you’re ill do you?”  And the answer was no.

I finally lay on the tile floor with the dogs and tried to be a dog.  I lay next to Paako and I lifted his paw onto me.  Anyway I got bored being a dog.

I remember being able to call you Pam when I felt like this and tell you about my funk and then you could do the same with me.  I remember that was before we started working on our codependence and then we thought we couldn’t do it anymore.  But sometimes when things got really bad we would.  Like when I first started dating Ron and he didn’t call me that day and I went into a pit of horror I called you and you said, “no Jane I don’t think I should do another tarot card reading for you because I’ve just done one and it said everything was great.  Why don’t you just feel your feelings instead?”   And I did.  And then the next morning when I called you again to tell you I was still in a state you said to keep on feeling those feelings Jane!  

But I haven’t been able to feel my feelings lately.  I feel cold inside.  Perhaps if I could call you, you would know what to say to me.  I think you knew me better than I knew myself.  I want to remember and I don’t want to, it hurts too much.  That is the problem you see Pam.  I don’t remember the details and that’s what bothers me.  Oh I remember the room at the inn and the kitchen down below where you used to bake your little muffins.  The flat upstairs which was so cozy and you letting me come and stay there with you even though it was too small.  I remember reading a book that I found in that little new age bookshop about Jane Roberts and Seth.  And we cycled around Ocean Drive me talking like the Irish girls who also worked at the inn and you laughed.  I kept calling you Dervla, do it again you kept shouting, do it again!  And you laughed and laughed.  You watched me cry because I was so upset about men and you saw me get drunk out of my head that night and throw myself at that man who owned a boat called the Pearl Necklace.  You were right there by my side Pam, my sister all the way.  Right up until the end.  I remember the problems you had too and the way we would talk and talk about all the problems and the dysfunction and when we went home that Christmas your face looking at me as if to say what are you doing this for?  When I was singing those carols so loudly and acting out like an angry daughter.  You looked at me with disapproval I remember, you keeping a lid on it.  Sitting there in a grey cardigan keeping a lid on it.  Letting it all run on.

And the film below is me singing the song...

Have yourself a merry little Christmas...

Andy Connell just put this on Facebook of himself and my heart skipped a beat.  This is the last song Pam sang to me.  Bitter, bitter sweet Andy and Pam...two people I love dearly.

It was December 2007 and we were all wending our way to England to spend Christmas with our parents.  I decided to go to Pam’s B&B in Newport for a week on the way.  Pam was taking part in a dinner theatre Christmas cabaret at the time and had a solo spot singing the above song.  She was eager for me to watch the show and I of course was eager to go along.  So we drove over to this cute little venue in her silver Mazda sport’s car.  She introduced me to the other singers who all seemed of course to adore her.   As they each walked away Pam told me their back-stories.  I sat at the bar with Pam’s husband Keith to watch as the show began.  They sang the typical Christmas fare all of them dressed in glittery clothes with warm winter scarves thrown around their necks.  Then it came to Pam’s solo.  She sat on a chair centre stage the other singers draping themselves around her some sitting on the floor looking up at her as she sang.  She was enchanting to me as always, and tears welled up in my eyes.  And what a truly gorgeous song this is I mused, perfect for her.  I scanned the room proudly but to my indignation you COULDN’T hear a pin drop!  People in the audience were holding conversations whilst my beautiful sister was singing!  This will never do! How very dare they!  I began to beadily scrutinize her performance for clues.  Right!  In no time at all could see what the problem was. I made a mental note to set this matter straight as soon as we returned to the house.  Having worked for many years as an actress I knew how to fix this.

So when we got back I threw my coat on a chair and launched into action.  I immediately declared, “Pam! You are singing the song all wrong!”  Pam winced a little knowing her sister only too well.  She tried to explain to me that she didn’t really care but I was adamant.  “Look Pam people were talking!”  Pam shrugged.  “Don’t you want them to listen?!  Oh come on of course you do, come on let me show you.”  I went to find YouTube on Pam’s laptop and started searching for a clip of Judy Garland singing the song.  “But Jane,” Pam bleated “It’s OK as it is.  The other singers love me singing it this way.”  “Yes but Pam it’s not good enough!  We should have been able to hear a pin drop.  We'll have none of that audience talking while singer is singing lark around here!  Come on, please, look.”  Pam sighing sat on the high chair next to her desk and as we both focused on the computer the master class began.  “Now Pam this is the problem.  You are singing the song cheerfully.  Right?  Wrong!  You are swaying rather jauntily from side to side and it’s all kind of upbeat and jazzy.  No, no, no!  Now watch.”  And I clicked onto Judy singing.  Pam looked at Judy and then looked at me expressionless.  “Do you see?”  Pam shrugged unenthusiastically,  “It’s melancholy Pam, sad not cheery. Now let’s get to work.”  And whether Pam liked it or not I completely changed the way she delivered the song until to my mind it was perfect.  “There!  Now when you sing that song tomorrow evening I guarantee you will hear that pin drop.”

The next evening I stayed at home.  When Pam got back from the cabaret I asked rather smugly how it went.  "Worse," she said. "What? You're kidding me why?" "The other performers didn't like it.  They were going mad asking why I'd changed it and to change it back!"  "Oh, that's ridiculous!" I said, "Ah but what were the audience like?"  I asked confidently. "Quieter," she said, "listening."  "There you are then.  I told you!  Well weren't you pleased?"  I said.  "Yes but anyway I think I'll change it back to the old way." "Do what?  But why?" I asked.  I think it was probably peer pressure.  This turned out to be Pam's last Christmas.