Tuesday, February 12, 2019

Snow Angel

It's been snowing all day, little sweetheart. It's in the air and on the ground and began early this morning. It's hard to see very far. It's like a white out.

Anyway, I was on the street en route gathering provisions with three stops in mind. So, donning boots and the beautiful scarf you made for me, I headed down taking the trash to the street, first, and then made my icy way to the produce market.

Was shopping there when I realized I’d lost one of my Summer handkerchiefs  - the ones your mom made for me with your initials on them that I take everywhere with me - when I’d brought the trash to the street. It had been in my hand with my gloves.

I was a bit panicked but tried to calmly finish there and then retrace my steps to go back and look. There was only one register open and quite a long wait. It was almost my turn but the woman in front of me in line dumped out 100 coins from her purse and made the cashier count them as we all waited. Sigh.

After I paid, I hurried back to the corner. When I got to the trash can, I looked all through it and around it and on the curb but couldn’t find it, the treasured Summer hanky. I thought to trace my steps from there all the way back to the stoop but nothing.

Finally, walking back about to give up, I found it unfolded, nearly aloft, white on white on the snowy sidewalk. I had already passed that way twice but not seen it. But here it was awaiting me. Gently scooped up, I secured it safely in one of the grocery bags - rescued, wet, but unharmed.

It is now hanging up with other things - including the beautiful jacket you gave me for Christmas 9 years ago - drying in the kitchen.

Snow angels keep watch! Thank you, my little sweetheart. Love you forever.

Sunday, February 10, 2019

My Gorgeous Girl

A blessed, wonderful dream where you and I were together once more last night, little sweetheart. Writing all I can remember this morning.

And then come across an envelope with some spare head shots of yours. Even with pictures of you surrounding me always, it took my breath away.

I remember during our trip to Ireland, when we'd already been together for nearly 3 years, watching you get something out of the trunk of the rental car, while Kris and I sat at a table in the pub waiting for lunch to arrive. You'd just ducked back out, after ordering, to get a sweater or something. I gazed out the window at you, oblivious to whatever he was saying and just blurted out, "she's so beautiful!"

Feeling a bit like that just now. Love you forever.


Friday, February 8, 2019

A Reminder

I found a note-to-self, a reminder to write about the psychic reading I had six years ago today, little sweetheart. 

It was a cold rainy day when I took the train out there. Very contemplative weather. 

There's much to say about it and I will later. But just now because it's so very much in mind I want to remember and tell you the messages that they brought me as I sat there listening quietly. 

They told me that you wanted me to know you were okay and that it didn’t hurt and that you were only terribly worried about me and just wanted me to know it was okay and how important it was to do my work, our work. And that I should know it all was only just like being on a stage where people enter and exit and that you have to wait for your cue when it’s your own turn, my turn to leave the stage, and that just like always you would be there when I did, waiting for me, as if only in a dressing room backstage, where I would join you just like always, like we had been doing all along through so many lifetimes, to do it all again together. Forever.

Forever.

Thursday, February 7, 2019

Our Lives Before Us

Little sweetheart, Facebook is a funny place and I only really check in there at all regularly to monitor messages to the band, but today an alert let me know that 10 years ago you and I spent the day in Carmel.

We'd driven down for your call back for "The Blue Room" and Ken had told you that although they weren't ready to announce it, you had the part.

We walked together after on the beach where we took this and a few other photos, wandered around the main street into a candy shop and Lush, where I bought you some bath bombs that we took up to Davis.

These images are never far from my mind. Indeed, prints of them are within arm's length at my desk as I type this. I only longingly wish you were within reach yourself.

But I know your spirit hovers close by, closer than I can imagine, and that one day soon I will join you again and forever. With all my love...

Thursday, January 31, 2019

Second Glow

Little sweetheart, for years I have had a little glass candleholder cup that is just the right size for a tea light that I keep burning before a picture of you amongst your things and the hundreds of other photos of you here at The Shrine. For a long time it was in front of a picture of you taken by your mom in that park in SF that is high up on a hill where The Cliff House can been seen (not in this picture, but when one climbs up there, like you and I used to do sometimes, taking sandwiches from Roxies and having a little picnic).

That picture it at the base of the big full length mirror that I bought for you and now sits on top of the red table at one edge in the back, in the corner of the room. After I got hit by the car and came home from the hospital it was hard to get back over there, so I took a different framed picture of you - one you took yourself and sent me from your room in Carmel when you were doing “The Blue Room” down there, your red hair cascading all over - and set it up on the other side of the room by the speaker on top of the bookshelf because it was easier to reach in my hobbled condition.

Even though I can get around better now, I still like having your eternal flame there. Every time I pass I see it burning and when the tea light goes out, I immediately light a new one. I buy bags of tea lights at Bed, Bath & Beyond - where we went with a shopping list you drew up once when you’d examined my lack of baking equipment and procured everything we’d need. They come 100 to a bag and every month or two I go and grab a couple. I keep your light burning. Sometimes, if I’m in another room, I’ll smell the candle burning out and run to light a new one.

Lately I noticed two things. One is that sometimes when I light a new candle, a little black wisp of smoke from the match will trail off into the air in a spectral shape like a little soot-covered angel floating above the proceedings, blessing all.

And the other is that when the tea light is first lit, its flame glows wildly and then calms down to a very dim incandescence, before slowly, ever so slowly, beginning to grow and illuminate your picture, your beautiful face, brilliantly.

I stand there ever so watchful and mindful and prayerful. It makes me slow down and think about things, think about you, listen for your close counsel and presence.

In that second glow of the candle, I am reminded that although I can’t reach out and touch you just now, as I long to and once did, that you are near, that you haven’t gone away. But that like the tea light that honors you, you will come again and forever in that second glow if I just quiet myself and wait patiently. I will see. I will find you. I will know.

In the second glow, I will know. With faith and all my love forever.

Tuesday, January 29, 2019

An Anniversary of sorts...

Little sweetheart, as I'm working on our book, I have several notebooks going all at the same time. I'll switch from one to another as detail memories and events from different periods, working ahead in long hand as I periodically transfer long passages to type, editing and rewriting as I go.

Often little notes scrawled on index cards or postcards will fall out of one of the notebooks - some scrap of info or an idea I had wanted to get down in a hurry and save so it would inspire a passage when I got back to it later.

Yesterday, I found one of these. A pink post it that says "First Reh Jan 29th". That was to remind me of something I've already written about but that I set aside for today because today is January 29th. The note is to remind me that rehearsals for Tir na nOg began on this day in 2008.

You and I had first met, little sweetheart, about two months earlier, at the first reading of the play and then when I came back to San Francisco for a workshop of my own play, Seven Pages Unsigned, you were there in the audience. I was so surprised and delighted to see you!

Now, on this day, eleven years ago, we sat next to each other (something that I believe you yourself arranged by re-arranging the name tags around the table) and began the journey that would seal our souls together as one forever.

It's a mix of snow and rain, wintry and gray and cold outside today, little sweetheart. And as I type this and try to work myself up to attempting a run along the Hudson before the temps truly drop into something Arctic, I try to quiet myself and listen for your eternal and celestial presence.

Please be as near to me, at my very elbow, as you were eleven years ago this morning. I need you more than ever. And always. With all my love...

Sunday, January 27, 2019

Video for "Our Oneness Can Never Be Erased"

Little sweetheart, I've been a bit remiss in assembling videos for the new albums. I very much wanted to do some for SOMETIMES IN DREAMS, but events, including getting run over by a car, delayed my efforts.

Finally, there's the first of them completed. It's for "Our Oneness Can Never Be Erased" and is up on our YouTube channel and the Slugg Records website. It's also here below.

And, as ever, all for you, my gorgeous girl. Love you forever!