#=O, %=I

sh#t to sh%t

Grief is still in the forefront enough of the time, even as my life changes and moves forward, I have to keep giving it the room it needs.

Rich is still very alive in my children, as well as his art and music. I cannot bury him ever. I must learn to live with him in my grandchildren and son's in laws, mutual friends, locations, songs... makes me so tired even a nap doesn't matter.

It is more than Rich's watches still beeping. It's the expression on Annika's face, the shape of eyes and brows, so much like her mom, so much like a Leon.  It is not even bittersweet, it is Rich in the room within a little newly potty trained two year old (as tall as a three year old) with blond hair, that runs up to me happily calling Mima.

I cannot close that down, the way I needed to with Creativemark, or not visit Crista's new office full of Richard's photos, or Sara's and Crista's missing space within them, filled sometimes with FaceBook posts of family photos with Rich.

The Inner Sunset neighborhood of San Francisco is where Rich and I started out in the Bay Area. 7th and Irving, a few blocks from St John of God on 5th and Irving, was our first apartment, $125, in 1977. Then a flat Funston & Judah, where Sara was born.

Crista had an appt. in the city Monday, and I hung out with Annika at the Children's Playground in Golden Gate Park.

Annika is about the same age now as Sara was when Crista was born. We parked on 5th above Irving and walked past SJoG, stopping in to the corner fruit & veggie market for snacks before we hoofed it to the park, watching our shadows, singing 'Sunny Side of the Street' and 'This Little Light of Mine'. The playground is remodeled from back in the day, except for the hill side slide and carrousel. But I can still see Sara toddling around, with Rich following, while Crista is tucked into a blanket on my lap.

Yes, appropriate that the memories are so vivid, so much so it is hard to imagine Rich missing it. Is he? Even when I create the space for Rich, for my memories, my granddaughter, the vividness sometimes flows into the quiet spaces, pushing out time and distance. By the time I got home I had no more space available. It is hard to be there. By the evening my heart and tear ducts were on their own.

I used to feel grateful that I had the ability to go with the flow. Somehow, now, I am anxious that there will be no relief, being surrounded by memories and this new reality, incompatible no matter how or what I decide to be or do. Life is full of surprises and shocks. I must have quite a repertoire of expectations I haven't come to terms with, like‚ 'get used to this honey'. Thus the sh#t to sh%t title of the blog.

Yet, abundance of blessings abound. The youngest of them on a carousel in Golden Gate Park.