Getting Goosed

My dad could always make me laugh. No matter when, no matter where, he always had the ability to turn my frown upside down. Corny, but that is how it was. My pop is so amazing that he has the ability to shake me out of myself from the other side……..  

It's been tough going emotionally, kids growing up, relationships changing, dealing with an ever expanding file of bills, obligations and debts. One particular Sunday, the aforementioned emotions became all consuming and almost unbearable.  

Before I go any further, there is something I need to convey…..Anyone who knows me even slightly understands that my appearance is not always of big concern to me. I often get distracted and wander out of the house in clothes that don’t quite match. Often I am in an ensemble that looks like I’m making a statement for the LGBTQ+ community by wearing a rainbow flag. And hair and makeup, on a weekend???

This particular Sunday, I was expecting warm weather (due to having read it was supposed to be in the 70s) but not expecting the funk and black mood. I felt as if the weight of the world was on my shoulders and I no longer had my buddy, my pal, my entertainer to take me out of myself.  I drank some coffee, made breakfast and started to do some chores in the hopes of an attitude readjustment. My attempts were futile - no matter what I did I couldn’t refocus or stop myself from feeling pitiful. It was time to take dramatic action.  I’d not yet seen my dad’s grave and have been putting it off.  I’ve dreaded seeing his name on a cold stone in the ground as that might drive home the point too sharply that he is gone. On this day though I decided to bite the bullet and drive to the cemetery. In usual Joyann Boggio fashion, I put on a pair of very light cotton beach pants, a thin t-shirt without a bra and a pair of flip flops. It looked a bit dreary outside, so as I grabbed my keys I threw on my bright yellow rain slicker, suffering from age and overuse.  I hopped in the car and in my distracted state of being, did not notice that the weather report was far from accurate. If I did notice a chill in the back of my head I attributed this to my mood and the sun being behind a cloud. My mind was more on my problems and the loss of my father. 

I pulled into the cemetery parking lot with tears running down my face. It was at this point I realized I didn’t know exactly where my dad was buried. Just a general idea.  My mom said  “He is buried by a tree”…hmmmm…….a tree in a cemetary…how novel….. As I parked the car in the area that I assumed my dad was buried, it began to rain.  Nonetheless I persisted. I got out of the car (noting for the first time that the chill was a little more pronounced than I anticipated) , opened up the trunk and found, amazingly, an umbrella. This was a good sign. I opened up the umbrella to discover that while, yes, it was an umbrella, it was also a broken umbrella. It did not catch, so it did not stay open.  The rain was now pelting down (this should have been a sign to give it up and try another day, but nooooo) I decided to let the umbrella hug my head as I thought I could look at the ground as that is where graves generally are - no need to look straight ahead. I continued forth in the general direction of where I thought pops was buried, vision obscured with the exception of from my knees down. 

So picture this…rainbow flag outfit, flip flops, tears streaming down my face, umbrella collapsed upon my head, muttering between lines of gravestones (where is my dad, I can’t find my daddy, where in the hell are you dad (probably not there!)).  I bumped into a person who politely asked if I was okay (what a brave stranger you were, you should have ran screaming away!).  I just muttered “I can’t find my dad!!!” and continued on……

Now, in the springtime a funny thing happens with geese. They become horned up and mate.  And because of this they lay eggs. They are mean and spiteful beasties - especially when protecting their young. What I did not see and totally failed to notice, probably due to the umbrella collapsed upon my head was that there was a goose sitting atop some eggs in a nest that was right in front of a headstone. Unfortunately, the goose DID notice me. So I’m walking, crying, snot running down my face, looking pathetic when something charges at me out of seemingly nowhere honking“mwaack! mwacck! mwacck!” chasing me from the graveyard back to my car, wings flapping, and pecking at  my flip flopped feet. I ran like a bat out of hell, dodging tombstones, jumping over grave markers, screaming like a little school girl with the umbrella still about my head. The rain is still pouring down, the other grievers are stifling a laugh but some do have the kindness to look a bit horrified, but I make it to the car. Soaking wet, pecked, but laughing.

As I drove away this all made so much sense to me. I had a thought of my dear dad, sitting up in heaven and my brother sitting next to him. They are on a couch and my dad sees me in this funk pulling into the cemetery. He probably leaned over to Glenn and said “Hey, watch what I’m going to do to Joyann”. Very funny dad, very funny……

Absence apparently does make the heart grow fonder or How I remembered that I actually had a blog....

It has been a few years, okay 6, since I've put keyboard to paper.  My partner in rhymes is doing some big things with his writing but I'm sure some day he'll find his way back. 

I'm called today not for a catchup, or to share a point of view, but more of necessity.  It helps, when you don't know who to go to, and you don't really want the kindness of strangers, to share in a fairly anonymous and off the beaten path way.  So I've gathered you all - me, myself and I - to talk about grief.

What a piece of crap thing that is? Amirite? You loose someone dear, you have the rememberances, you celebrate all the firsts, first bday without them, first holiday and so on.  You get to the 2 year mark and you somehow move on with life.  You go 3 years, and while you miss someone so much, you still live your life and revel happily in all the stories that they've left you with.I have a theory that the hole or space that they leave behind is filled with memories, the love they had for you, and a constant filling of "wish they were here" and "they would have loved this".  

So, or Sos as my remaining sibling would say, you move on, you grow, you sometimes remember to cherish where you are, and how you got there.  Moving along just fine...until one day, one week, you are brought to your knees with a heart ache so deep and painful that it makes you feel as if you cannot cope and maybe even cannot breath.  The tears come, the rage, the hopelessness, the utter and debilitating sadness.  Closing your eyes, wishing it all to be a horrible nightmare, and not wanting to open them again because you know, it is real.  

It takes time to shift it, tell yourself this means you were well loved and loved well.  Hearing the voice of your loved one, most likely telling you to get over yourself and get back to life.

I so desparately want to reach out to someone who would understand, who would listen, but who also would only let me lay in my shit for so long before they told me to "knock it off".  The hardest part is the one who would do that....is the one I am grieving for.

So thank you little blog - reading through you today brought back so many good memories, and reminded me of the wonderful friend I have that wrote this with me, and gave me the opportunity to focus my grief and help me, at least in some small part, make it less painful.

Oh and most of the people I know also thank you - they won't have to do deal with this!