Pat's Nightmare

Last year Pat moved from his Royal Connaught Hotel penthouse condo to a nearby small (tiny) home in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. Little did he know he would be entering into a Nightmare Neighbor situation. 

At the time bought his house, a 564 foot house, the house next door to him was unoccupied. Apparently an elderly man owned it who had died. The house was unoccupied until a few months after Pat moved into his house. Then next door a young homeless couple took advantage of the unoccupied middle home and moved in. Apparently the woman is a relative (granddaughter?) of the deceased man whose estate still owns the house. After they moved in then began a daily stream of unsavory characters all during the day. Thus began Pat's nightmare and his other neighbor ("Sam") who owns the house on the other side of the three tiny houses (see photo).   

 

 

 Last month I visited Pat at his home (my photo at the begging of this blog). Pat loves his home. Pat is a minimalist. His home is perfect for him. What a shame that his peace and tranquility is destroyed by the squatters who took advantage of the abandoned home next to him. 

I was schedule to visit Pat for a week. I could only stay one night at his home. The noise during the night from his next door neighbor (banging on the wall, screaming at her boyfriend, etc) kept me awake all night. The next day I went up the street and booked a room at the Hampton Inn at a total cost of almost $1,000. I had no choice, I couldn't go a week without sleep. Hell, I can't go a day without my afternoon nap. 

I could visit Pat during the day because apparently his neighbors are vampires, they sleep during the day (no jobs of course), but they arise at dusk and thus begins another nightmarish evening of noise for Pat from his squatter neighbors. What a nightmare for Pat! 

Pat has called the city of Hamilton numerous times along with his neighbor on the other side of the squatter couple. The city does nothing. NOTHING! Except maybe perhaps collect their salary, which they collect whether they do something or not. 

I'm not a religious person (far from it) but I do thank God (or whoever) that I now live in a quiet neighborhood. Oh I've had bad neighbors over the years. Homophobic neighbors who send their kids on the border of our (me and Bill) property and yell "Fags get out!" for hours on end on a peaceful Saturday morning (I took care of that). Then I've had the noisy neighbors. The trashy neighbors. The nosey neighbors. But here, in southern coastal Delaware I have the best neighbors I could ever hope for an even better, this neighborhood is always quiet except for the occasional summer time "concert" across Route One in Hudson Fields which sometimes gets carried away with itself and goes into the night with loud speaks at full blast shouting the "MF" word (that hasn't happened for a couple years now). 

Out of frustration Pat and his neighbor "Sam" (Samantha, who is also a caregiver to her husband in addition to her full-time job, she needs the sleep) have contacted the local radio station and newspaper to publicize the lack of city action against their disruptive neighbors who don't even pay to live there or taxes. Isn't that the way it often is? Good, law abiding citizens have to have their quality of life destroyed by those members of our society who are too lazy or self indulged to care how their life affects their neighbors. And what is government for anyway than to protect us not only our physical safety from crime but also out quality of life that Pat pays very high taxes? Pat is seventy-five years old but he still has to work to keep up with the expense of living in his home in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. The squatters next door? They pay no taxes and disturbed the whole neighborhood. What is even worse is that Pat's city government does nothing. NOTHING! What a shame! Eventually Pat will move down here to Delaware to live with me, an old man who is rapidly failing but in the meantime this is what Pat has to put up with. Maybe this newspaper article in his local Hamilton newspaper will be the beginning of a change. Hopefully. 

Summer Season 2024 Officially Begins!

Bill and me, the Early Days Philadelphia 1979

The Memorial Day hordes have left. I didn't go out once. I did see the backed up traffic on Route One yesterday. Just as I predicated. I hope they all had a good time. Most of the weekend, the weather was perfect. Good for them!

As usual, the weekends are melancholy for me now that I'm alone. Bill and I never did anything spectacular on the summertime holidays. No backyard barbecues or having company over. Even though I was with Bill every day of the week for the last three years, the weekends were always something special. I don't know why, they just were. Maybe because I took him for several rides on the weekends. 

These days I don't have any reason to take a ride other than to go to the food store or doctor's appointments. One of which I had this morning. My six month dental visit. My dental hygienist affirmed to me again I have dry mouth. Hey, I sleep with my mouth open, just like many old people. When I go to bed I close my mouth but I always wake up in the middle of the night with my mouth wide open like a cadaver. What's to be done? She suggested these pills and a mouth rinse before I go to bed. I'm on that tonight. 

I also had a dermatology appointment today to check out a little spot on my right ear that's hurting. I suspect another keratosis growth. While I was in my hygienist's chair I received a phone call which I answered on my wrist (my Apple watch, Dick Tracy come to life). That was my dermatologist's office informing me that "Stephanie" (the person who takes care of my hotspots) was sick and could I reschedule? Of course I could. Now that appointment is at the end of June, after Pat and Glenn leave Casa Tipton-Kelly for their ten day stay.

About two hours later, when I was having lunch I get another call, this time on my iPhone. It's my eye doctor's office. I was informed that they have to cancel my June checkup (I need a new prescription, especially for my computer and the annual checkup on my cataract surgery a year ago) and could they reschedule?  What's going on here? I agreed to reschedule. Now that appointment is in September. Two medical cancellations in one day, what are the odds?  By the way, as I'm typing this blog entry I notice that my mouth has dropped open and my mouth is dry.  Ah ha! Old man syndrome. My father had the same affliction in his later years. Slack jaw. Old man present. 

I mowed the grass again this afternoon in the blazing sun. Whenever I do that I have to take a shower. I hate sweat. I'm still raking the grass. I've gotten my mowing down pretty good that I can use my John Deere Zero Degree turn riding mower to create lines of cut grass in my field out back. Easier to rake up. I don't know if I'll be able to rake grass as summer progresses though. With summertime here on the Delmarva peninsula comes humidity. I cannot work in humidity. No way, no how.  I've done it in the past and it's almost killed me plus I'm drenched like a pig going to slaughter. 

By the way, in reference to a previous foul mouthed blog entry post about Indian scammers I said "All Indians are scammers" or something to that effect. Obviously not "ALL" Indians are scammers, me painting with a broad brush again, but there sure are a lot of those soulless bastards who scam aren't they though? I don't see banks of Chinese, Japanese, English, French, German, Canadian, or even Mexican scammers. I see a lot of Mexicans around here where I live. They're out here working mowing grass, and general landscaping in this Delmarva heat and humidity. I don't see any of the "smart" Indians working mowing anyone's lawn. Oh no, they're "too smart." They would rather cheat old, lonely vulnerable widows and widowers out of what little money they have left to survive on. "Some" Indians do that. I stand corrected. And don't even get me started on the "some" Nigerian romance scammers. 

Again, two types of people in this world. The crooks and the victims. The wolves and the sheep. Just remember though if you get a call from the IRS threatening to arrest you "in forty-five minutes" for tax fraud unless you supply the scammer with thousands of dollars of gift cards, it's not legit. They're scammers, with an Indian accent. The accent alone should be a give away. Just saying.

Now to call Pat and see what he's up too and then I'll rake some of that cut grass now that the sun is going down. 

Oh, by the way, I've been making prints of pictures of me and Bill. Most of my pictures are digital. I am going to have prints made of some of my favorite pictures of me and Bill and put them in an album. I accidentally discovered this process of choosing the photos and having them printed and marking them on the back with the date and place the photos were taken, give me comfort. Yes, I am still grieving. I'm at a different level now but still pretty bad which I think I will be for the rest of my live. I ache for that man's company. I miss him so much. Much more than I have even imagined. 

Memorial Day 2024 Musings

 Here comes the summer onslaught!

Memorial Day is the official start of the summer season here in the Rehoboth Beach area of Lower Slower Delaware.

I noticed the increase in traffic yesterday when I tried to exit the development I live in which is on the east side of Route One also known as Coastal Highway.

Here we go. I now have to adjust my outings to avoid exiting my development on the weekends for the summer. Last night just before sundown I made a quick grocery run to Food Lion up in Milton to get a back of potatoes. 

I was out of baking potatoes.

Baking potatoes are a staple of my diet these days. I make potato salad which I have every day for lunch. 

I also needed potatoes to make beef stew. 

I probably go through a five pound bag of potatoes in a week. 

Yesterday at five o'clock I had a Zoom call with my friend Glenn of California and Renee of Pennsylvania. Renee recently lost her husband. Glenn  had lost his partner of thirty-five years three years ago. This call was a "therapy" call. Renee is still going through the worst of the grieving process. Glenn is pretty well past his grieving for his loss. I'm getting there. I'm a lot better now that I was last month. I'm actually beginning to see a future for myself with Bill in my life. 

What we talked about on yesterday's Zoom call was the Meaning of Life. Yes, we have the answer. I'll go into that in a future blog post. But suffice it to say we're all in agreement. We're here to learn and love. That makes sense. 

I woke up this morning to thunder showers. Bad news for the hordes coming down to the beach for Memorial Day weekend. Not a problem for me, my lawn can use the rain. A good thing about not working at a job now is that I don't have to go anywhere. When I worked at the hotel so often I had to drive to work in the pounding rain. I never have to do that again. I can just stay here at home, Casa Tipton-Kelly. 

Only a couple of weeks now until Glenn and Pat make the trek from their respective homes in California and Canada to spend a week with me here in the midst of the Summer Season. Yes, we will dive into the crowds on the boardwalk in Rehoboth Beach. Looking forward to their visit. Nice to have other people in the house again. 

Scam Call Center HACKED and DESTROYED With FBI Malware

This is what I've been looking at lately, Indian scammer call centers being scammed. Watching these YouTube videos of these motherfucker Indian scammers being exposed and scammed and having their files destroyed is almost as much fun as watching the YouTube rat eradication videos. 

Whoops! Did I use the "MF" word? I surely did folks because that is exactly what these Indian scammer call centers are. They are soulless bastards who have no compunction about scamming thousands if not millions of trusting older Americans. 

Yesterday Pat almost got scammed. He received a phone call that his TD bank account was "compromised". All the sing songy Indian accent bank representative named "Bob" (sure) needed from Pat was to "verify his account." You know what that is, that is to give the scum bag scammer your personal information and then they are off to the races.

Who among us hasn't received one of those e-mails stating that our account was charged an amount like $499 and a blurb that if this isn't your charge to call the number indicated on the e-mail. When  you call the number you're immediately connected to one of those sing songy Indian accent voices reading from a script. They always identify themselves with a name like "Bob", "Jim" or "John". In actuality their name is probably "Ayansh", "Bed", or "Rudra". 

Check out this link of the disgusting Indian scammers getting scammed themselves. Click here.

You tell them that the charge isn't yours. "Anansh" or "Bob" is all so helpful and he will "refund" your money. But first he has to have access to your bank account. Your first clue that something is amiss. 

You're upset and want to get rid of this mistaken charge and "Bob" is all so helpful. Remember, this piece of shit is reading from a script. When you give him access to your bank account (after you sign in) "Bob" immediately places is fake software on your account to show you he's putting your "refund" in your bank account. But.....now pay attention, he always makes a "mistake" and adds an extra zero to the amount of the refund. WHOOPS! Now "Bob" tells you he made a mistake and he would lose his job if this isn't corrected. Could you please help him so he doesn't lose his job and his ability to feed his family and take care of his new baby. Yes folks, this pond scum says all these lies playing on your sympathy when in reality he just considers you just another "stupid American." 

He tells you to go to your bank, withdraw the difference and either send it to him in a box (at a drop-off point, usually some "dumb American" who has previously been scammed or buy gift cards. 

Would you fall for this scam? You would be surprised at how many people do. Usually elderly Americans that these creatures prey upon. 

When Pat called me yesterday, upset that his bank account had been so called compromised, I told him what he should have done immediately is hang the phone up. HANG UP!  Don't even say anything to the dog shit Indian with the sing songy accents "Bob" who called him. Don't waste your breath on this human garbage. They have no souls. They are soulless, and the Indian government who knows about these massive call centers are equally soulless and human garbage. Pat went right to his bank to check to see if he account was "compromised." Thank goodness it wasn't. But what a shame that there exists in the world these massive call centers full of scammers, backed by the Indian government who take advantage of elderly Americans and others. 

I've visited Pat in Canada many times over the past ten years. I've often wondered why there are so many rich Indians. Wonder where they get their money from?

Have I been scammed by this Indian filth? Oh there have been attempts. Not successful but attempts. I can check my Junk File e-mail right now and there are several text messages telling me I have a "Package that they are trying to deliver to me."  Sure.  

I almost got caught a few years ago by a Pay Pal scam.

Be warned folks. The Nigerian Prince Scam has probably run its course, most people know about the $42,000,000 dollars that the Nigerian Prince has locked in a frozen account and will pay you (a stranger) ten percent of the $42,000,000 if you just let him use your bank account to launder his fortune. 

Now we have the gigantic Indian call center scammers with the "refunds."  

Ron Over The Years

A change up in my blog posting folks. Yes, I continue to grieve for my loss of Bill but I have to move forward with my new life.

This morning I noticed I have a load of Memory photos automatically created by my Mac computer. I've decided to share all these videos of my photos and videos with my You Tube account and in turn my blog. This is for posterity folks. At eighty-two years old, I won't be around much longer so I better get with it and post all these videos. I also have many old 8MM films that I converted to videos that up until now I have in a private You Tube account. I will gradually also make all those video public.

When I die I doubt that whoever goes through my possessions will find them of any importance or interest. My old photos and videos will probably end up on the curb on a rainy Spring Saturday morning after a failed garage sale. Believe me folks, I've seen those image before. I even rescued old photos and was able to find a home for them with a distant relative of those photos even though she was reluctant to accept them. I have to face the facts that when I'm gone, I may be missed by a handful of people but none of them will be interested in my thousands of photos and videos of my life. Not even Pat, being the minimalist that he is. So be it. So I will post my old photos and videos in the off chance that someone, perhaps some distant relative in the future (one hundred to five hundred years) will find the life of this one individual interesting and a bit of history to save and contribute to the history of the twentieth and twenty-first century. I may not be famous, rich or a person of incredible talent but I did live and exist in this time period and I think that is well worth preserving for posterity. 

Respondence To A Condolence Letter

Today I received a long condolence letter from a former classmate of mine. She had lost her husband (also named "Ron") a number of years ago. In her letter she told me that there is no time limit on bereavement and related to me how she has dealt with the loss of her husband over the years. This is my response to her very thoughtful and kind letter of support for me at this time of my life. 

Patty,

Thank you so much for your very thoughtful card and note on the passing of my Bill Kelly. That was very kind of you to think of me at this time of my bereavement for the greatest loss in my life.

As you probably know Bill and I were together for a long time (fifty-nine years). Losing Bill was like losing half of me. I literally have been with him my whole adult life. We met when I was twenty-two years old and he was thirty-five. We had almost sixty really good years together. 

The last three years of Bill’s life I was his full-time caregiver. In January of 2021 (during the height of COVID) he fell and had a brain concussion. He was never the same after that fall. I thought I lost him then when they airlifted him to Thomas Jefferson Hospital in Philadelphia and he spent a week in the ICU. Thankfully he survived and then spent the next two seeks at PAM, a rehab facility in Dover. I brought him home from there and the last three years I feed him, dressed him and kept him company all day (I quit my job to be with him). He did lose his sight (macular degeneration), which really distressed him because he always liked to be kept busy. I took him on his daily ride which he so loved because he could see color and light from his peripheral vision. Riding in our car now without Bill in the passenger seat is especially hard for me now. 

Bill gradually got weaker and the last two and a half weeks of Bill’s life he went downhill fast. Literally. He kept sliding out of his favorite chair in our sunroom where he spent most of his day. It got to the point where I had to keep calling the local EMT’s to get him up off the floor (at a $100 each visit!). 

Finally his condition got to a point (he was hallucinating) and couldn’t eat because of his throat problem, that I just could not take care of him anymore. 

He was receiving VA home health care and home hospice care. The hospice nurse arranged for him to be admitted to the Delaware Hospice Center in Milford on Wednesday February 21st at nine o’clock at night. I followed the ambulance carrying Bill to the Hospice Center. I stayed with him that night and all day the next Day Thursday. I left before it got dark on Thursday (I hate to drive at night) and returned Friday early in the morning to again stay with him all day. He was unconscious the whole time but I believe he could hear me. Many times I whispered into his ear “I love you Bill”. One of my friends suggested to put my iPhone up to his ear so they could say goodbye. I did and that gave me the idea to call other friends and relatives. They all said “Goodbye” to Bill. 

I again left on Friday before it got dark to return to our empty home. I had a feeling I would never see Bill alive again. And I was right. At 2:30 AM early morning February 24 my iPhone rang. I knew what the call was about. I picked up the phone and the hospice nurse said “Mr. Tipton I am sorry to inform you but Mr. Kelly passed away last night at one thirty.” 

I knew this call was coming Patty but still…….my whole world changed in an instant. 

I have not been the same since. You’re right, we all have to take our time in our grieving for the loss of the greatest love of our life. Your Ron was a special person, I knew that right away when I first met him. I was so happy for you and Ron. And even now I know you miss him terribly. 

When they say “Time heals all wounds”, that’s not really true. I tore my quadricep muscle on my right let in 2013. I did a lot of damage. I couldn’t use that leg. It was useless. However, I had surgery and then three months of rehab and now I can walk on that leg. It will never be the same, always pins and needles from falling asleep but thank God I don’t have pain. The leg has healed but you know what? The scar is there. It will always be there. It’s not as horrible looking as it was when they first cut my leg open but it is still there, somewhat faded as it is now. For the rest of my life the scar of not having Bill in  my life will be my companion. I will never be the same person. However, I have been very fortunate in that I have been able to console myself with a very good friend who also lost his partner just a month before Bill’s accident. We talk to each other frequently on Zoom. 

Last month my cousin Barbara lost her brother (also my cousin, same age as me) whom she was the caregiver for. We console each other. Then last month my good friend and former co-worker Renee just lost her husband. She is going through some really rough times now because her husband’s death was unexpected. She is only forty-seven years old and still has a whole life ahead of her. I console her. And we all console each other. We joke that we don’t need shrinks, we can take care of “this”, the biggest loss of our lives ourselves. 

I saw this screed posted on Facebook and it says exactly what it is to loss one’s spouse. 

We’re at the end of our lives (I know how old you are (smile) but my life isn’t over yet. I am fortunate that I have a very good friend that I met eleven years ago and we have traveled together every three months for years. Bill didn’t like to travel so he was all right with my friend Pat Flynn and I traveling. Of course I love Pat and he loves me but he always understood that I would never leave Bill. There was never a problem in our relationship. Actually Pat was always the person I was looking for my whole life. It’s funny but when I moved in with Bill, which I was reluctant to do way back in early 1965, because I told him he “wasn’t the one.” He said that was alright I just want us to live together. He also said “You do your thing, I will never hold you back. Just be discreet.” I liked Bill but at the time didn’t love him. I moved in with him (he lived in Pennsauken, New Jersey) so I could be closer to my new job at Girard Bank in Philadelphia. And then guess what happened, while I was about “doing my thing” over the years I done went and fell in love with Bill. How did I find that out? I was going to leave him one time for someone else (which would have turned out to be a disaster) and when I told him, he didn’t cause a scene. He didn’t yell. He wasn’t angry. He just looked up from the gardening he was doing outside and said softly “Please don’t leave me.”  Then like a bolt of lightening I thought “What am I thinking about?” I CAN’T LEAVE BILL. I would never be able to sleep at night wondering how he was taking care of himself. You see we had a very beneficial to both of us relationship all the years we were together. He did the handyman stuff and I ran the household. I urged him to take early retirement when he was fifty-five years old  and I was the sole support of us until he could collect his Social Security at age sixty-two. We had a mutually beneficial relationship and here I don’t went and fell in love with him. Of course I didn’t leave him then and never even considered leaving him even when I met Pat in August of 2013. 

Now my life has changed. I will grieve for the rest of my life for Bill. However many years I have left to live in this life, that hurt of not having Bill in my life will be like a scar on my soul. Never completely healing but enabling me to go on functioning living my life.  

Pat is a Canadian. His mother was American. Pat and I will eventually get married. First I have to submit a K-1 Fiance which will take about nine months to a year to process. If I live that long we will get married and then I’m off to races again. But I will never forget Bill and all the wonderful years he gave me. 

Thank you again Patty for your warm condolences on Bill’s passing. 

Always, my best to you.

Your friend and former classmate (DHS Class of 1959)

Ron

And yes, I didn't include the images in my letter to Patty. 

Talking and writing about my loss is helping me get through this very difficult time of my life. Wether I throughly blog postings, talking to others who have lost loved ones like my neighbor Linda yesterday, of just thinking about all the good memories of have of Bill and our life together, I'm getting through this folks. I was helpful through to read that my friend Patty said "There is no time limit on bereavement."

Rough Few Days

Just when I think I'm overcoming the biggest loss in my life (Bill's death February 22), I'm back in the hole of bereavement again. 

What brings this about I'm finding is a few overcast and rainy days. Sunny days are much better for me. I seem to be able to get on my life without Bill. But a string of dreary, cloudy days and especially the weekend; bring about melancholy about just how much I miss having Bill here with me in our home.

This short video was taken February 3, 2021 at a rehab facility in Dover Delaware. This was during the height of COVID. At first the hospital staff wouldn't let me in to visit Bill but they relented during my second visit to take him his favorite blanket and a hat for him since he was no longer wearing his toupee. Thereafter they always let me in because they said I had a "calming effect" on him. You think? I loved that man so much and he loved me even more. I was so happy that I was able to take care of him here at our home for the next three years of our life until he died three years later almost to the day at the Delaware Hospice Center in Milford after only a stay of three days. The last two and a half weeks of Bill's life he was so weak he kept sliding out of his favorite chair in the sunroom and I had to keep calling the local EMT's (at a $100 a pop) to help me get him up off the floor. 

I was so fortunate that I was able to take care of Bill here at our home we both loved so much, with the help of the hospice nurses and the VA home healthcare nurses. They were all so kind and helpful but at the end I just couldn't manage. The tipping point came when the hospice worker was showing me how to administer the morphine pain killer injections and turning him over in the hospital bed to change his Depends. I was physically and mentally exhausted. I JUST COULD NOT DO IT and to this day I fee guilty about that. I know I shouldn't but I do. But most of all I miss Bill. Oh how I miss him. We loved each other so much. 

About an hour ago I was talking to my friend Renee who lost her husband unexpectedly last month. I've been helping her through bereavement. She has also seen signs of her husband contacting her, letting her know that he's alright and looking after her. Two days ago her dog had a paper in her mouth. Renee pulled the paper out of her mouth and found this.

"Tom" was the name of her husband

"Tom" was the name of her husband. Now that is just too much of a coincidence. Renee told me it's not like her husband wrote his name on all his receipts, he didn't. But why this? It was her husband contacting her. The same morning I was reading Renee's text message on my iPhone a red cardinal flew right into my path, almost hitting me. I knew immediately that was Bill. I've never seen a red cardinal before where we live here at Casa Tipton-Kelly. Both Bill and I always liked red cardinals, often giving each other Christmas cards with a red cardinal on it. Also, the red cardinal is often used from those who have passed over as a messenger to their loved ones that they are all right and to give them hope. Renee told me that she shared her story with some friends and she's convinced that some of them thing she's one of those crazy ladies. That's the way I feel now when I tell Pat or someone else (except my friend Glenn who believes me) the times Bill has visited me here at our home. He hasn't been here lately but I expect him to make periodic visits to me to reassure me that he is waiting on the Other Side for me. Just as I was preparing our home for him after I left him at the rehab facility over three years ago, promising that I would being him "home", Bill is now waiting for me to return "home" and be with him on the Other Side. And yes folks, I definitely do believe in life after life. Our souls just occupy this human form for a short while but we eventually return "home" which is Heaven and that is where Bill awaits me.

Adjusting To My New Life

 Since Bill died, I've slowly been adjusting to my new life. The key word here is "adjusting" to my new life.

I'll admit that many times during the past three years when I was caregiving for Bill full-time, I often thought of what my life would be like without those caregiving responsibilities. Much to my surprise I have found that I actually miss caregiving for Bill. For all our fifty-nine  years together, the last three years were the closest Bill and I've been together. I miss that closeness. I miss caring for Bill. But I now realize it was time for him to go. He hung on so long for me. Even though we were lucky that he wasn't in pain and didn't have serious dementia issues, his quality of life was not good. Rarely a day went by that Bill didn't mention that he was only staying because of me.

I have come to accept that Bill is in a much better place now. I've been reading a lot about life after life, which I now believe. I believe our spirits live on after our earthly bodies die. After reading several books on this subject, some things that happened (Bill's spirit in contact with me) now make sense. I told him that if he could contact me when he went over to the other side, to send me a signal. He has. The clearest was the blinking white lite a few weeks ago on top of the curtain where I hung the year round Christmas lights. That was Bill. Also, the week after he died I felt his presence here in our house. I don't feel that presence now but I did then, strongly.

Now I adjust for my new life. One thing my household income is cut in half. That will  take some adjusting for me. I'll have to cut back on my free spending ways and go back to the way I lived most of my life, watching my expenses. That's not turning out to be a big problem. I actually planned for this time of my life when I decided to move to Delaware. I always assumed Bill would die before me and I knew I would have to live on my income alone. Also I knew I wouldn't work at a job into my old age which is a reality now. I'm home all the time. Actually it's nice, I can spend more time gardening and take care of our home. So many things I've put off in our past years, I can now do. That also is nice. Now that the initial shock of living my life without Bill is wearing off I know I will survive. A big part of my survival is my relationship with Pat. 

Pat and I will eventually get married. I have the K-1 Fiance VISA application form.  I have to finish that form and send it in to the U.S. State Department. That whole process will take from nine months to a year. Once that application is approved, Pat and I can get married. Up until now, I haven't been in the mood to complete the form and send it in. I'm getting there though.

 Next month Pat and my friend Glenn M. (who lives in California) will be my guests here at Casa Tipton-Kelly. I'm looking forward to their visit. They'll be here for a week. Just us guys. This will be the first time Glenn and Pat meet in person. We've talked on Zoom several times. 

Never in my life did I have two guests stay where I lived. This will be major different. I'm going to take advantage of their visit to help me put up new blinds in my garage. I've already warned them. They're much better at handyman jobs than I am. Of course Bill was the ultimate handyman whose services I had for over fifty years. Just how lucky was I?

I wonder if Bill's spirit will appear while they are here. 

Moving On May 2024

I continue to evolve in my new life without Bill.

The pain of his loss will always be with me the rest of my life, but I continue to heal. Just like my leg surgery that I had when I tore my quadricep. I can walk with that leg but the scar is still there and I still get a tingling sensation (leg falling asleep) whenever I sit too long. But I'm walking, for which I am so thankful.  

There are still those moments catching me off guard that remind me of how much I loved Bill and will have the enduring sadness of not having him in my life. The last three years of his life when I was his caregiver, especially brought me so close to Bill when he depended on me so much. I didn't realize until he died that how much I loved caring for him. Even though at times it was difficult to care for him, I now realize how much I depended on him to give my life meaning. I was indeed privileged to care for this wonderful man who made my time on this earth so wonderful. Bill literally rescued me from a potential life of disappointment, failure and misery. He was always my bulwark every time I strayed from his unconditional love. 

Yesterday I was thinking there are only three people in my life who truly love me. Sure, I have many people in my life who like me. Friends, former co-workers, neighbors, family and others I encounter in my daily activities like store clerks, doctors, and others who like me. But love me? Only three people folks. My Mother (of course) and then there was Bill and now Pat. Unconditional love folks. 

I will never forget the last days of Bill's life when he lay unconscious at the hospice center. I was a mess. The folks at the hospice center paid almost as much attention to me as they did Bill. Now I realize that I was part of their end of life care program. The folks at the hospice center also take care of the survivors.

Know that those folks did? They gave me the opportunity to talk. And talk. And talk. 

What did I talk about? I talked about how Bill "put up with my nonsense all our lives together." Bill never gave up on me. All the times I strayed. Those time which I took him for granted. All those times and he never left me. He believed in me. He loved me. I never realized how much I loved him in return until I was faced with the fact that I was about to lose him. I was standing on a trap door that was about to open and deposit me into the Unknown. How was I going to live the rest of my life without him? Of course this is all coming down to my inherent selfishness. It's all about me folks. Always has been but you know, Bill understood that and loved me anyway. 

The last few months of Bill's life I often told him how much I loved him. He loved to hear that from me. He would sometimes say "I don't hear that too often" in a friendly mocking kind of way. Know what folks? I wish I had said it more. Now I know if you love someone, you can never tell them often enough how much you love them.

Earlier this morning I was talking to Pat on FaceTime which I do several time during the day. Pat's working his job at Go Valet, which is a service that picks up vehicles delivers them to a auto service center. This morning he has a three hour plus trip to pick up a vehicle. As I was wishing him a safe trip and right before I disconnected our FaceTime call I said to him "I love  you." I've been doing that more often lately as I end our FaceTime calls. Pat responded with a smile. And that folks made me feel good and I'm sure made Pat feel good. We often take our present life situation for granted. We never know when it will be the last time we see that person we love. 

Today I will do more yard work. I will make crock pot beef stew. I will take a walk around my neighborhood. I will walk my neighbor's dog while he is fishing. I will update my nine online Scrabble games with Pat. I will make a new batch of soup. And I will check in on  the new occupant of my fish pond, a goldfish which grew too large for my friends Jack and Judy's aquarium. 

I'm moving on folks. I'll be all right. 

Mother's Day 2024

Me with my Mom and Pop 1942 Mineral Springs, PA

Me with my Mom and Pop 1972

Mom has been gone for fourteen years this year. 

Mom and Ron 2008

She would have been one hundred years old this Mother's Day. 

Me with my Mom and my two younger brothers at her step sister's home in  Compass, PA 1951 (guess who was Mom's Favorite!)

Me with my Mom at her step-sister's home in Gap PA 2004

Even though you're not here this  year Mom, here is my wish for a very happy Mother's Day wherever you are now. 

Me with my Mom July 4, 2002 Downingtown, PA

If there is a Heaven, we will be reunited soon.

Me with my Mom and my paternal grandparent's grave Union Hill Cemetery, Kennett Square, PA May 5, 2002

 

Ron Has Company!

My company of the past three days has left this morning.

Their visit was wonderful therapy for me in addition to having a reunion with old friends. 

Jack and Judy were our witnesses to our wedding eleven years ago. 

Last night we went out to dinner with their friends Margaret and Laura at The Touch of Italy in Rehoboth Beach. Wonderful dinner with old friends and new friends, this is the first time I have met Margaret and Laura. Laura is Margaret's daughter-in-law.

Jack and Judy, who arrived Wednesday afternoon, were the perfect antidote to preventing me from slipping into another bout depression over the loss of my Bill. 

Hey folks, it looks there will be a life for me after all after losing Bill. Bill even sent us another signal. On Thursday night, as Judy and I were talking with each other in my living room, the overhead lights on the kitchen counter blinked on and off. They have never blinked on or off before. Never. Judy noticed. Another signal from Bill was as I was taking Judy for a tour of my Memory Room in my finished basement, the music that came on my Bose speaker (which I had turned on earlier, which was unusual because I almost never turn on the Bose speakers but I was showing off) planed "The Third Man Theme" as Judy and I were exiting the room. "The Third Man Theme" was literally Bill's favorite music selection. He LOVED that music! What are the odds. That to me, call me crazy, was Bill sending me (us) another signal that he is all right and still looking after me. 

The reason Bill loved "The Third Man Theme" was because it reminded him the time he was stationed in Germany right after World War II during his Army enlistment. He visited Vienna and saw that giant Ferris Wheel. We he saw the 1949 Orson Wells and Joseph Cotten movie it brought back all those fond memories of Bill's time in Germany during those same years. Bill had a cassette tape of that music that he would play occasionally to bring back those memories. Only rarely have I heard "The Third Man Theme" play on my Pandora radio station but when I did as I was exiting my "Memory (junk) Room" with Judy yesterday, there it was. Bill sending me a message again about he was watching us and being with me and getting a kick our of me showing that room again. I will never believe otherwise folks. I so comforted knowing that Bill stops by here at Casa Tipton-Kelly to let me know he still with me.

Also, this morning I found this on my Facebook page from a former co-worker of mine. It talks about the loss of a spouse. It is so true. I will never be the same but I will survive. And especially now knowing that Bill will continue to be with me, albeit in a different form for the rest of my life. 

I am so fortunate to have had Bill in my life all the years we were together and now to have such friends who are helping me. 

Have a great day everyone!

Michael's Story

 My friend Glenn M. of Cathedral City California sent me this story of him and his late partner Michael Wilson. 

I've written about Glenn before. Three years ago, January 14, 2021, when I thought I had lost Bill I received a note from Glenn. I did not know Glenn but I knew of Glenn. He was the partner of Michael Wilson, who frequently commented on my blog. 

For years Michael had left comments on my blog then abruptly he stopped. That happens sometimes with blogger commenters. A good example is that I haven't heard from Woody of Ohio. I hope he is doing well. But back to Michael. 

About six years ago his comments no longer appeared on my blog. This was about the same time that I called him on the phone to thank him for a Harry and David gift package he sent to me from him and Glenn for Christmas. This was the first time I ever talked to him. I thought out conversation went well, then nothing. I realized about three months later that he was no longer leaving comments on my blog. I found out from Glenn's note that Michael had become very sick and Glenn was caregiving for him the last three years of his life. That explained why Michael was no longer leaving comments on my blog, he couldn't see. Michael also had macular degeneration like my Bill. Bill couldn't see either at the last three years of his life which caused him great discomfort. And yes, I also was Bill's caregiver for the last three years of his life.

I talk to Glenn frequently on Zoom and he's already been a guest at my home here in southern coastal Delaware. In June he and my friend Pat F. from Canada are coming for a visit. They'll be here a week and then we'll visit our friend Don McK. in Philadelphia. 

Glenn has been a great help to me in adjusting to my new life being Bill's caregiver and now dealing with my grieving of losing Bill for the rest of my life. Glenn wanted to leave a comment on my blog about Michael. He couldn't because the story was too long for a comment. I told him I could post it to my blog which is what I am doing now. I've also included a short video montage of Glenn and his Michael throughout the years. Two Golden California Boys.

I hope you enjoy it.

5-4-2024

I AM GLENN.

Thank you so much Ron, for mentioning me and posting that wonderful picture of Michael and I, along with our wonderful backyard in our first home in Studio City.  You have been, and continue to be, such a wonderful friend to me.  You have greatly helped me, and in turn I hope I have helped you.

If your readers are interested, here is my somewhat long story leading up to losing my beloved Michael...

1985 Michael Wilson

I met Michael on July 4, 1986, at a bar in West Hollywood, California, on Santa Monica Boulevard called “The Rafters”.  I was there with my boyfriend of two months at the time who I’ll call “Dan”.  We had just spent a few hours at a Fourth of July pool party, and four of us had decided to go get a drink somewhere.  Dan and I were not really clicking with each other lately, and I felt that our short relationship was nearing its inevitable end.  I went to get myself another Coke at the bar, where a very handsome man was standing.  He started talking to me.  I was enthralled.  He was gorgeous, kind, sincere, and easy to talk to.  His name was Michael.  After at least an hour of chitchatting, Michael said he was starving and would I like to go have dinner with him.  I said yes, but had to say my goodbyes to Dan, who eagerly encouraged me to go with Michael.  That was the signal I needed that Dan too felt that our relationship was over.  I never saw Dan again.

1987 Michael and Glenn Tuscon Arizona

So began my love affair with Michael.  I think I fell in love with him during that first hour of talking to him.  We moved in together a few months later into a tiny half of a duplex in Hollywood that we rented for 6 years (near Melrose and La Brea).  In 1994, I was able to afford my first home, a tiny 1,000 sq. ft. home in “The Valley” (Studio City to be exact).  Michael and I were thrilled to not have to rent anymore.  I was 38, Michael was 44.  Along with the entire country, we celebrated our anniversary every Fourth of July.

Michael with avocada tree

By then, Michael’s vision had started to deteriorate. He had contracted CMV Retinitis a couple years before, an eye disease that destroys your retina, turning it into Swiss cheese.  In both eyes.  As a result of his immune system getting destroyed.  By HIV.  Which had turned into AIDS when his T-cells were down to 50.  Which is why the CMV Retinitis attacked his eyes.  (Normally strong immune systems can easily fight off CMV Retinitis.)

1990 Michael Wilson

We were very happy together and very much in love.  I worked full time.  Michael worked part time and took care of the house.

By 2010, Michael’s vision was pretty shot.  He couldn’t drive, couldn’t take walks on his own, and couldn’t work.  He was on permanent disability.  By then I was working 50-60 hours per week in my promoted position as a very well paid I.T. Manager.  By then, Michael had dozens of eye surgeries, had all the liquid replaced in both eyes with silicone, and had spent 2 years in the early 1990’s doing IV drips of a strong drug to keep the CMV Retinitis from getting worse.  Each morning, while Michael made us some breakfast before I had to go work, I would set up his IV drip.  After breakfast I would plug him into his drip line, kiss him goodbye, and go off to work.  It would take 2 hours for the bag of medicine to drip into the permanent PICC line that had been inserted into his left arm.  After the 2 hours, he would disconnect himself, close off his PICC line, and clean up.  The process would repeat itself when I would get home in the evening.  2 hours of an IV drip, twice a day, for 2 years.  It took a huge toll on his kidneys.  He was now in Stage 4 Kidney Disease, on top of still being classified as having AIDS, and now with severe kidney disease.

1991 Michael and Glenn

By the end of 2010, I was feeling horrible having to leave Michael every day for at least 10 hours.  He had nothing to do, no one to see, nowhere to go, couldn’t do any hobbies, and could barely see the T.V. (I had bought a huge 75” T.V. for him, where he would sit on the coffee table, his face a foot away from the T.V. so that he could sort of see what was going on.)  He didn’t have much of a life.  He would call me a dozen times each day just to hear my voice.  I loved hearing his voice.  I so miss his beautiful voice.  

By then, I was at the top of my career, getting paid very well.  After much thought and much financial analysis, in early 2011, at the age of 55, I retired 10 years sooner than I had anticipated so that I could take care of Michael.

1991 Michael in San Francisco

It was a simple choice.  Work another 10 years and gain a lot more money so that we could have a fabulous retirement, or quit now and live modestly.  The former would require Michael to not have much of a life, the latter would allow me to keep him company.  It was an easy choice.  I chose to give up over $1 million dollars of income, and give Michael some very needed companionship.  To give him a life.

1990 Glenn and Michael and nephew

So began our last chapter together.

A few years later I finally paid off my 30-year mortgage (in only 20 years), and by 2017, I was finally in a position (thanks to the real estate market) to sell our little 1,000 sq. ft. house and buy a much nicer home, a little farther away, in a community called Chatsworth in the northwest corner of Los Angeles.  We were thrilled to have a big, beautiful 2,500 sq. ft. home with a pool for the first time.  It was a dream come true.  We had spent decades planning and saving so that we could eventually upgrade from our “starter” home.  Before his eyesight had deteriorated, Michael used to clip coupons to save money at the grocery store.  We had lived frugally and had lived a modest life, all with the intent of some day being able to afford a bigger him with a pool, to enjoy in our long retirement together.  Our dream had finally become a reality.

1992 Michael and Glenn Christmas at home

That Chatsworth home was everything to us.  It was a house of joy, in a beautiful neighborhood, on a quiet cul-de-sac, with very kind neighbors.  A triumph of a life-long dream, feeling so proud and amazed that I could afford us such a beautiful big home for us to live out the rest of our lives in.

But Michael’s health was deteriorating rapidly.  In and out of the hospitals.  Procedures and surgeries.  His gall bladder was removed.  Multiple shoulder surgeries.  His A-Fib got so bad they had to stop and start his heart twice in two years.  Stents were put into his arteries.  Minor heart attacks.  On and on.  The problems kept getting worse.  Our kitchen cabinet was a virtual pharmacy.  It would take me an hour to sort out all his medications for the week.

1992 Capilano Bridge, Vancouver, Canada

We were going to host a big family Christmas party at our house in 2019.  But Michael had been getting weaker and weaker.  On December 23rd, I finally took him to the E.R.  Michael had severe critical anemia (thanks to the A-Fib medication he was on).  Two transfusions of blood.  Christmas party cancelled.  I went to visit him every day, and he was allowed to return home after a week.

Then the pandemic hit.  March of 2020.  I had just bought a brand new car a few months ago.  It just sat in the driveway for a year. 

1998 Michael with Tiny Tamm

In September of that year, I turned 65.  Michael would turn 71 the following month.  Michael was outside trying to water some plants as best he could.  He wound up the hose, stood up, got dizzy, and fell over onto the concrete patio.  I heard a scream I had never heard before.  I ran outside to find Michael screaming in agony on the ground next to the hose.  He kept saying his hip, his hip was killing him.  I called 911.  I propped up his head up with pillows and tried to comfort him.  He was in agony.  The ambulance arrived.  Everyone, including Michael and I were wearing masks.  They rushed him to the hospital.  They told me not follow.  No one is allowed in any hospital unless you are admitted as a patient or work there.  I was to call the hospital in the morning.

It was a severely broken hip.  Titanium rods were surgically implanted.  I was not able to see him for the 10 days he was in the hospital.  I was beside myself not being able to see him.  But we talked on the phone several times each day.  He finally came home and I was so relieved.

2008 Glenn and Michael - so in love

He was not allowed to walk for several weeks.  His legs started to swell up.  We figured it was because he was so sedentary.  He was finally given the okay to start walking.  But his legs kept swelling up.  Then they started to ooze some clear liquid.  The doctor prescribed a small dose of a diuretic to help rid his body of the excess fluid in his legs.  But not too much, the doctor said, considering Michael’s kidneys were still at Stage 4 Kidney Disease.  Too much diuretic could push his kidneys into Stage 5, which would then require dialysis.  Michael had told me many times that “the day I have to go on daily dialysis, on top of everything I’m dealing with, will be the last day of my life”.  He was deadly serious.  I was getting very stressed out about his swollen legs and the diuretic factor.  I anguished over whether he would truly end it if his kidneys got worse.

By this point, after decades of being in and out of hospitals, the thought of going back to the hospital yet again, for his worsening swollen legs problem, on top of both of us doing everything we could to not get Covid, he refused to let me call 911.  I couldn’t blame him.

2009 Michael's 60th birthday

But the swelling would not go down.  It kept getting worse.  His doctor didn’t know what to do, and could not prescribe more diuretics.  So finally, Michael agreed that I should call 911.

Unfortunately, the local big hospital he was supposed to go to was so full of Covid patients, that they refused the ambulance carrying Michael.  So they took him to another hospital, a very small hospital, where they quickly discovered that his leg swelling was being caused by poor circulation, which was caused by a damaged heart valve, which had been damaged from decades of strong and harsh medications, including the medications for his CMV Retinitis all those years ago.  

2009 Michael and Glenn 23rd anniversary dinner West Hollywood, California

Also unfortunately, that small hospital had no heart department and could not fix his heart valve.  So Michael had to lay in that hospital bed for 7 days until they could find a single room, in any hospital that does heart procedures, anywhere in Southern California.  This is November of 2020.  The middle of the Covid pandemic.  No visitors.  I could not see Michael.  But we talked each day.

Finally, a single bed opened up at the huge Huntington Hospital in Pasadena, where they do heart procedures.  Michael was quickly transported.  However, during that 7-day stay at that small hospital, in their infinite wisdom, without consulting me, they administered very high doses of strong diuretics into Michael.  By the time he got to Pasadena, he was in Stage 5 Kidney Disease.  They told Michael he would have to be on dialysis for the rest of his life.  That was it.  He was done.  He ripped out all his tubes and said he was done.  He told them he just wanted to go.  “Please let me go now, I want to go now”, he kept yelling at the nurses.  So they sedated him, and plugged everything back in.  Then they called me to let me know what was happening.

2010 Michael and Glenn

Michael’s heart valve was severely damaged.  There is a permanent procedure to repair it, but it would not be done for several months because Covid had caused a massive backlog of surgeries.  But, they were getting everything ready to temporarily put a stent (or something) into his heart valve to make it work pretty good, at least until they could perform the surgery to repair or replace his bad heart valve in a few months.  As for the dialysis, they told me that his kidneys may very well recover a bit, back to Stage 4, and Michael might not have to go through dialysis.  I had hope.  Michael had a ventilator down his throat and was constantly sedated.  

I kept calling day after day, but he was always sedated.  I was going out of my mind.  It was now 10 days since I saw him.

The procedure to temporarily fix his heart was a full success.  His swollen legs were recovering.  He would probably be able to go home in a week or two.  Relief!  Michael will be coming home, and he was not sedated as much.  I had bought an iPad, and thanks to Facetime, for the first time in two weeks, Michael was able to see a human face… mine.  I could barely contain my emotions.  I was an emotional wreck by then.  This had been the longest we had ever been apart.  Although legally blind, he was able to make out my face, and his hearing was excellent.  The nurses would graciously place their iPad close to Michael’s face each time I’d call.

2012 Glenn and Michael with Tammy

I couldn’t stop telling him how much I loved him, how well the procedure went, how he might not need dialysis after all, and that he’ll be coming home soon.  He was groggy, couldn’t talk with the ventilator still down his throat, but would nod his head.  I knew he understood me.  I knew he was trying to say he loved me too and that he desperately missed me.  I knew.  We were each other’s everything for over 34 years by then.

Several times a day I’d Facetime with Michael.  Lots of love, lots of encouragement, lots of hope.  Trying my best to keep on a brave face for him.  Day after day.  So grateful that technology was able to allow Michael to see an unmasked human face, and for me as well to see his still so handsome face.  I so miss seeing his beautiful face, that face I fell in love with which forever changed my life, that wonderfully fateful day all those years ago.

It was at 10pm I got the call.  A couple days before Michael was coming home.  I hadn’t seen him in person for nearly a month.  I was exhausted with the emotional drain of it all.  I was crawling into my lonely bed yet again.  I glanced at the phone and the call was from “Pasadena Hospital”.  I knew.  I knew something terrible had happened.  They never called me this late.  “Hello Glenn?  This is Dr. SoAndSo.  I’m the attending physician in care of Michael.  Michael is fine now.  But, his heart stopped.  I was able to resuscitate him and we got him back.  He’s fine now.  However, his heart has stopped beating 3 times in the last hour.  And 3 times I was able to successfully resuscitate him.  But Glenn, I have to ask you an important question.  Every time I resuscitate him, I end up breaking his ribs.  Several ribs are already broken, and more will be broken if this continues.  So my question to you is... although Michael is fine now and stable, what do you want us to do if his heart should stop beating yet again?”

2016 Glenn and Michael so in love after 30 years

I knew exactly what the doctor was saying.  I had a few seconds to decide whether the love of my life, my everything, my one and only, should live or die if his heart should fail again for the 4th time.  How does one make such a decision, in a few seconds.  But the answer was so clear to me, instantly clear to me.  The choice was... force Michael to have more broken ribs, force Michael to endure yet more agonizing pain, on top of everything he had gone through, for decades and decades.  Or, let him go.  Release him of all the nightmare he’s gone through, and will continue to go through, with so many procedures, pills, surgeries, and his blindness.

I answered… “no, please do not resuscitate him again if his heart should stop again.  I cannot have him come home with yet more pain and suffering for who knows how long.  He’s been through more than anyone should go through.  So no, do not resuscitate him.”

“Very well” the doctor said.  “I’ll call you in an hour with an update.”

I sat on the side of the bed, numb.  Is this truly it?  Is this truly the end?  Is our life together really ending?

And then it hit me.  I may never see Michael again.  I rushed into the computer room, and scoured through decades of photos looking for any photo of Michael I could find.  Through tear-filled eyes I desperately searched.  Folder after folder.  I had such an urgent need to find every photo of my beloved.

10 minutes later the phone rang.  I knew.  Again, I knew.  It was over.  This time there would be no doubt.  “Hello Glenn?  I’m sorry to tell you, but Michael’s heart just stopped again.  And as per your wishes, I did not attempt to resuscitate him.  I am so sorry for your loss.”

I couldn’t speak.  “I’ll have the nurse call you in a few minutes if that’s okay”.  “Yes”, is all I could mutter.

That’s the moment my life shattered.  My world collapsed under me.  I could feel myself falling, falling, into a bottomless pit.  My heart was utterly broken.  My mind was reeling.  My soul began to cry.  

My wonderful life with Michael was over.  It would never be the same.  I will never find another Michael.  I will never be happy again.  I will never find love or have joy again. 

And so began my months’ long journey through Hell.

5 minutes later the nurse called.  She said that although it is strict hospital policy that absolutely no visitors are ever allowed in the hospital because of Covid, they have one, and only one exception.  They would allow me, and only me, to come out and sit with Michael for a maximum of 30 minutes, with a mask on, if I so wanted to.  Without hesitation I said yes, it’ll take me an hour to drive there, but I’m on my way.

Grabbed my keys, wallet and phone and raced out to Pasadena.  Got lost, overshot the exit, could barely see any signs because of all the tears.  Finally made it there.  They checked my temperature, made sure I had my mask on, and escorted me towards Michael’s room.  As soon as I saw his covered legs through the open door, I lost it.  My knees buckled under me and the two nurses caught me and helped me into Michael’s room into a chair.  I am so grateful to the hospital for allowing me to spend those 30 precious minutes alone with Michael to say my goodbyes.  So, so grateful.  Then it was time to leave.  How do you say a forever goodbye to the love of your life?  One last glance of him before leaving his room.

Another hour drive back home.  Again, I couldn’t read the signs, overshot my freeway exit, and had to back track.  It was over 1am when I got home.

2019 Michael and Glenn's 39th birthday

It’s been 3 years now.  That wonderful home in Chatsworth became a house of pain for me.  A house so terribly empty without Michael.  I ended up selling it and moving out to the Palm Springs area.  I am still in mourning.  I will always miss Michael.  I have his ashes with me in a beautiful box which gives me great comfort.  I talk to him periodically, and I look forward to hopefully seeing him once again when my time comes.  

Time heals.  But it will never fully heal.  Losing Michael was so, so much worse than losing all my friends to AIDS in the 80's and 90's, worse than losing my parents and other family members.  It crushed me.  It destroyed me.  For months I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think.  I lost 60 pounds.  My neighbor screamed when she saw me so thin.  She asked what happened.  She cried.  We both cried.  I am so grateful for my family and friends who did their best to comfort me.  Unless you’ve gone through such a devastating loss, it’s difficult for most people to truly empathize.  But their kindness and sympathy did help.  Talking and a hug does help.

Glenn, October 17, 2022 Cape Henlopen State Park, Delaware

Things are better now.  I have family.  I have wonderful friends.  Although I’ve cried a billion tears, my life has happiness, joy, and fulfillment once again.  My heart will never fully heal.  And that’s okay.  I’m doing okay.

Glenn