Luxury Living for The Dead

Check this out. I floated past this graveyard every time we ferried onto the main island in Hong Kong. Having a view of the sea is not just for the rich living, you know... it is also for the rich dead.

A quiet time at a loud place

So, yesterday I went to a birthday party at Dean's for Braxton, a freshly minted Devilish Deuce of a boy. It made me reflect on Marcie and I and how we saw the question of kids. Well, I won't cover that here, but soon in another post.

Yesterday, as I sat with a friend and watched a small army of toddlers bounce, eat cake and generally enjoy life, I noticed on thing lacking: a redhead child. There was not one in the over a dozen present.

Well, it was still an interesting time.

At any rate, Marcie was not one to spend time with our friends or do kids' birthday parties unless they were for her close friends, like Chrissy's. But she may have enjoyed this one in the cool winds of autumn on Mt. Helix.

Thanks, Dean-O and Joey, for a great time and a nice, life-affirming event. These weeks, I need those. And happy birthday, Braxton :)

Secret posts

So I am posting in the back end of the blog as I work on the book. Some things to look forward to: I will be posting China films, writing some about Marcie and I and the kids question, and just reminiscing. I feel as if the dispersal last week(ish) helped me unclog a lot...

A conversation

"You did not," she said.

"Yes, I did!" I insisted.

"Did you record it?" she asked.

I just smiled and she laughed. "Oh my god, honey, you are SO funny. Okay, let's see it."

I popped the tape in and on came John Gibson, talking about Monica Lewinsky and Bill Clinton.

"So, what do you think, people? I'll be back in a moment to take your comments on the air and hash it out with you, right here on MSNBC," he smiled, tossing some papers behind his shoulder and shaking his head.

She fast-forwarded until the transition screen appeared and played.

"So here we are again, people," Gibson said. "Tell me what you think. Is Monica Lewinsky going to testify and if so, what does this mean for Bill Clinton? Frank in Humboldt County, 30 seconds."

"John, I think she has good representation and if she doesn't, friends of the administration will be finding some for here pretty darn quickly," I said.

It drew a smile. "So you think that the Clinton clan will circle wagons with her? Pretty bold, Frank," he said. "Hey, how are things up there in Northern California? I had one of my first anchor jobs in Ukiah."

"Well, not bad, John," I said. "I love the rain."

"You'll love it up there, then," he said. "There's never a shortage!"

Marcie laughed and looked at me, shaking her head. "You liar," she said. "You like it until you get tired of it, then you get mad at it."

I shrugged as John continued, "So why do you think the Clintons huddle up with the Lewinsky clan?"

"John, it's the presidency," I said. "You don't blow that position for the whole party if you can help it, especially over a little blue dress. You get a lawyer, or even a few. And your spread them around liberally. Let's not dre4ss it up, you hos ethis fire down with cash."

Marcie, her broadcast experience in high school rearing up, shuckled, "Ho ho ho, careful honey!"

Gibson smiled and paused on the television, waiting as he shook his head for a good disarming comeback to occur to him. He looked up and smiled broadly, "So you don't let this incident stain an otherwise good record?" he asked.

"Well," I said. "Depends on who you ask, but I say 'A dry cleaner! A dry cleaner! My kingdom for a dry cleaner!' seems to lack a certain panache, right?"

He guffawed as Marcie held her hand over her mouth, eyes popped wide at my Newschat bravado, then looked at me.

"Point well taken, Frank," he said. "Let's keep it clean, then, right?"

"A bit late, John, but hey... there's always another dress... I mean intern... I mean day," I said.

He was silent this time for a few seconds, smiling and staring at the camera, almost incredulous. Marcie slapped me as she watched, wide-eyed, red as a beet. John changed the subject.

"So you're a student journalist up there in Humboldt?" he said. "You're a pretty funny guy and you have some personality, maybe I ought to watch out for my chair?"

"No, no, I'll get my own, John, when the time's right," I said. "Maybe I'll have an intern, too? Do you have an intern, John?"

"HA! No comment Frank," he said, shuffling his papers and smiling, laughing with nods, open-mouthed, silent.

"Wow, Gibson without a comment?" I asked. "Can it be?"

"It can, Frank, it can," he said, mirthfully, even. "Hey, I have to take more calls, but call back after the show. If you get down to San Francisco, I have someplace you might want to visit for some really good Chinese. The best ever."

"I'll do that, John," I said. "Great show, man. I'll see you on the tube or in the studio someday."

"I don't doubt it," he said. "I'll talk to you later."

I hung up on the tape and Marcie stopped the VCR. "You are so crazy," she said. "I am so proud of you. You were so funny and smart."

She hugged me and I noticed she was blushing. I kissed her forehead.

"So we'll go to the restaurant someday?" I asked. "I did call and get it after the show. I didn't record that."

"Maybe," she said. "Maybe we will."

We never did, but it was still a sweet moment. Her pride in me always made me feel like anything was worthwhile, even playing hookie from college for a rest.

We had stir fry for dinner. It was great.

Birthday Girl! (a blog post that should have been)

Dear pals,

So Marcie turned 41 Sunday, as all of you know. here in San Diego we had a nice brunch at Jake's and sipped a bit too much in the Mimosa department. We were late for her dinner at Bob's and Barbara's, but we made tardy worth the while, for sure. Thanks to everyone, what a crowd!

She scored the Lost DVD set with all the episodes she missed when she was bedridden, a ticket to San Francisco (for both of us... for the first time!) and some MORE Jo Malone. God, how much loot does one woman get? As much as she wants, methinks. Send more, she hates that but secretly enjoys it, too...

I can't believe last year I was facing a life without our girl. I would have been utterly lost. Somehow, I just know I would have been broken down and maybe died myself. I am so proud of her. So tough, and so sweet. She's my hero.

I am sorry it has been a week or two since I updated, but I am thinking I might change the blog to "crazy husband loves redhead" or something. This old blog was more about keeping everyone up on her struggle. She's not entirely comfortable with it, now.

Thanks again, everyone! I'll update on the changes and anything else to come when I have it fleshed out. What a strange chapter in our lives. I am glad to turn the page. This one will stay up so we can all remember just how tough it was.

G'night folks!

F.

I wish... so much.

One year ago

I walked into the room and asked her if she needed help getting up. She did. I helped her and her legs buckled under her. The day before, she had been walking fine. I was upset, of course, and called hospice for help.

By the time they arrived, Jane had come by. It was agonizing to fight with the hospice people. Marcie needed help, and they were insisting it was the progression of her disease.

I was suspicious. She had been fine the night before. She had also had a medication change.

Her diuretic, used to control her swelling in the arms from post-surgical edema, had been replaced by the hospice doctor with a powerful statin. I did not piece it together right away, but a few months after her death, I did.

They changed the drug that night while she slept at a nursing home. She never recovered.

There was no progression of her disease, her tumors had been retreating. I found this out a week later. She had, until that night, been recovering and gettign just a little stronger.

This will not stand. I think the statin did the damage, and her three-week downward spiral and death, losing function on one side of her body as she did, lies at the feet of the doctor whose care she was under.

On her birthday, last year, a mistake or something more sinister sent Marcie on a hellish journey to death.

I remembered her very good, sweet nature today as I went through my routine as best I could. I lit her candles and talked to her. Now that her special day has drawn to a close, I reflect on the injustice of it all.

Four decades of her grace, sweetness and beauty was not enough. She, and all of us deserved and had coming far more.

This will not stand.

Home again, and dreams, and finishing Hong Kong

As Marcie's birthday approaches, I have some thoughts to share, and dreams as well. What a trip, so to speak. There will be many more pictures and a ton of flicks I shot on video. For now, the jet lag is slowly wearing off and my heart is full and warm.

Have a good Saturday, folks. I am off to reconnect with my San Diego life.

Marcie's first resting place

So, I went on a long pilgrimage this morning, walking to the opposite side of the island with Marcie's cremains. I found the spot I wanted and felt he would have her breath stolen by in life, and let her go.

It was one of the hardest days ever, but I feel I did her the honor I should. The film is below. Good night, folks.

The HK Visit - Butterflies

It was all about the butterflies.

By this I knew right away, or at least believed, the thought that she was not really here, and she could not be. But I wanted to, and I wanted to touch her, so I sat at the table.

"They are really nice, honey," she said, her voice rising on the last syllable in the way that told me she was pleased. She slid her pale, cool hand over to my forearm and looked me in the eyes.

And I smiled and thought, "Of course she likes them, because she is just in my head right now, and I have been collecting those butterfly pictures slowly and agonizingly for a week."

"I am glad you like them," I said. "Some of the best are too active to catch, and none of them seem to like to display when they rest."

She pulled them out of her purse, the brown one she always loved to carry and smiled, flipping through them. I walked around and stared at her face as she perused them. She sighed quietly.

"I love that you send these to me," she said. "I have every picture you've ever sent."

The Butterflies of Lamma - For Marcie

I thought to myself, "I have very few pictures of us together, I regret that so badly," and gulped, holding her hand.

"I know you regret it, honey," she said. "I know you do. But you don't need proof of anything. Everyone knows I love you and everyone knows you love me."

I fished around for my camera and she posed, smiling, then I set the camera on the dilapidated Coke refrigerator Mrs. Chan owned and set the timer. She smiled and bit her lower lip, then slid onto my lap.

I managed a smile, and as she turned and her big, blue, beautiful eyes sank into mine she became a blur, and tears burned down my cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" she asked. "Oh, honey. It's okay. It's okay..."

I thought, "I am crying because she is dead, she is not on Lamma, she is not even here in the dream with me. She is just a memory and a fantasy and I have not even printed a picture in a year."

She squeezed me against her chest and I felt and heard her heart beat against mine. She whispered, "If I am all those things and not me, aren't you grateful you have such a clear memory of me?"

I nodded and she kissed my nose. She wiped my tears with her thumbs and stoked my hair. "You're taking care of yourself," she said. "Thank you."

I shrugged.

She shook her head and sighed. "People lose the people who died before them because they become convinced that everything is just in their heads about their feelings of this whole hard, sad loss of that connection is real, and they think the dead can't feel or learn or change."

I looked up at her and they were all blue, then they opened and I sank into them again. I lost sight of all but those blue pools of unfathomable kindness and gentle love, and I knew that though she may not have been there at first, she was now.

I looked away, at Mrs. Chan and her peers, who now ignored us utterly, as opposed to the furtive, slightly annoyed glances they offered before.

"I love you," I said, the hot stng of tears on my face again.

"I know," she said. "You love me like I never left, because you know I never did. And I have felt it the whole time. Every thought of me, all your pains, your little offerings and your tears, I feel them all."

I nodded and sighed. "I know, sometimes they must be very sad."

"No, sweetie, no," she said, her cool skin against my face in her decolletage a sweet relief from the Honk Kong humidity. "You are so good to me, you don't even know."

I looked up and she smiled, but then looked concerned. "Don't throw me away, though, okay?" she asked.

I was confused and hurt all at once. I looked up at her and felt great weight.

"Don't disperse it all, not all of me," she said. "I love what you want to do for me. I love that I am here with you, that your love is so very strong. But don't let all of me go."

I nodded and croaked, "Okay."

"Letting me be free is not the same as letting go of me forever, and I don't want to let go of you, and I don't want you to let go of me," she said, holding my hand. "Keep a little of me close, sweetie, just a little."

And I was sure she was there now, so I asked, petulantly, sadly "Do you miss me?"

She gulped and sighed, "I can see you any time I want," she said. "I don't miss you. But I do know you miss me terribly, and I wish you could be with me as easily as I can be with you. But I am sometimes sad that you are in so much pain."

"I'll see you as often as I can," I said.

We stared out at a sunset over the ocean as the day closed, and I leaned against her as she sat in my lap.

As I woke, the heat of Lamma on my skin in the night was less where I felt she had been, and the absolute quiet slowly faded into the sounds of a less reverent night of a living island.

I knew she had been by and I was solemn for the moment. As I went to sleep again, Istarted awake at the sound of a voice.

I think it said, "I'm looking forward to the turtles."

Marcie in Hong Kong - Visit

Marcie visited last night, but I was too conscious and couldn't go with the flow. Still, there was a moment at the end... far too brief.

She continues to console me, but I still wake and fall apart after her appearances. For a little while, until the comfort of her presence and the specialness of that connection wraps itself around me like a hug.

More later.

Temple of the Sea God

Here is the little temple that sits at the entrance to Pak Kok village. Pak Tai is the Taoist sea god, and one of his power symbols is the turtle. Appropriate, no? There are many little temples to him like this on the island, likely because of all the fishing that is done here. Enjoy!

The harbor and the hill of the dead

I have some films to share with you all tomorrow. A tour of a small temple... a view of a huge sea-facing place of rest, and some oddities of Hong Kong that come from familiar names and ideas.

Ending a long week

She has been all over my heart and mind, and now I am tired. But I will be taking her to the Turtle Place soon, and I will have to be rested, I think, to deal with that emotional bomb. Today I meditated after a long work day and watched the sky change. I thought I'd share some of it, too.

I wish I had her here to enjoy it with me, of course.

I have been collecting pictures of little things around the island that make me feel her presence. I'll share that in a day or two as I prepare for the film of my trip to Turtle Beach.


The Thoughtful Skies of Lamma

Typhoon Hagupit

Marcie loved stormy weather, but not constant drizzle. She would have enjoyed last night and today. We are under the terrible winds of Hagupit and the underwhelming rains of it, too.

Pictures later. For now, I am still waiting for my chance to go to turtle beach... It is apparently not safe for now.

Some photos of my adventure so far:

The view from my front porch

Here are some of the sounds and sights I wish she and I could be sharing here on Lamma. Marcie loved early morning wildlife sounds. Turn your volume up to hear these.

Waking up...

There was a quiet in my heart.
I gazed out on the sea.
I was surrounded but apart
as people jostled me.
The din about me hammered on
with life and toil and smoke.
A million people yammered on
though muted as they spoke.
By senses neither lost nor dulled.
My mind was not adrift.
But when the world sighed they lulled
and I felt an eldritch shift.
A hint of you blew past my nose,
A woman with your scent
A happy laugh and flash of rose
appeared, then off she went.
A pair of lovers, fixed, held hands
an island in the flow.
A solid point in the shifting sands
like us, just months ago.
I met his eye and nodded, waved
and smiled as they then bowed.
Then off they went, the moment saved,
before they joined the crowd.
And at the pier a woman stared
out on the choppy sea
Her skirt and blouse were nicely paired
and so like you, to me.
I know I've gone so far away
among the crowd, to roam.
But you were there with me today
my heart your quiet home.

Arrival

I am exhilarated but pensive. I don't know what is going to happen when I drop off some of Marcie's ashes at the beach, but I am feeling her presence and that is enough. I will film the dispersal for everyone, and my words to her during this first moment, too.

She would love this place. She would love the surroundings, the heat and humidity, the thunderstorms in the evening, the hustle and bustle and the raw energy.

What I wish goes unsaid and unwritten because it is thoroughly understandable and predictable, and impossible to fulfill. I will share with all you who knew or have come to know her.

Look for pictures and film later on this weekend. I have been busy and will remain so.

The guardian and the preparation

Seamus has taken to sitting on Marcie's table of memorial, alongside her container. This began a short time ago. Usually, he slept under her. It is almost as if he has to be even closer. Of course, my dreams have accelerated, too.

I wonder if his have. At any rate, a few pictures:





I will post pictures of her recontainment another day. I sleep and prepare for the journey for now, folks. Good night.

The List

Socks
Shoes
Shirts
Pants
Hats
Jacket
Umbrella
Deodorant
Toothbrush
Toothpaste
Medicine
Nail Clippers
Laptop
Money
Camera
Memory cards
Memories
MP3 player (hers)
Ashes (hers)
Her

So say alright...

This song makes me think of all the times Marcie and I worried about how to pay the bills and buy our loved ones gifts. We never failed to do it. We had lean years but we ate a little more poorly to be sure we provided tokens of our love to our families.

She was the first one to hold my hand through lean times when my work or businesses were not making much. She was also the first woman to understand the need to give even when it hurt. That, I think, I will never find again.

It looks like a few hundred million people will be needing their own Marcies soon. This song should have some resonance to them.

Of course, there is a little more resonance for me in this if you listen closely...



More Time
I promised you the world again
Everything within my hands
All the riches one could dream
They will come from me

I hoped that you could understand
That this is not what I had planned
Please don’t worry now
It will turn around

Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
So say what’s on your mind
Cause I can’t figure out just what’s inside

I hoped that you could understand
That this is not what I had planned
Please don’t worry now
It will turn around

Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
So say what’s on your mind
Cause I can’t figure out just what’s inside
So say alright
Cause I know we can make it if we try
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine

We’re off to new lands
So hold on to my hands
It’s gonna be alright
It’s a whole lot brighter
So stand by the fire
It’s gonna be alright
Yeah, the road gets harder
But it’s not much farther
It’s gonna be alright
You know that it ain’t easy
Please believe me
It’s gonna be alright

Please don’t worry now
It will turn around

Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
So say what’s on your mind
Cause I can’t figure out just what’s inside
So say alright
Cause I know we can make it if we try
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine