Making All the Lists I Can

Overcoming grief is like the tide coming in: a wave surges up and washes the dry beach. Dormant creatures in the sand welcome the water, ready to get on with their lives, but the wave subsides to the sea and the creatures pull back.

Then another wave comes in, reaching a bit higher on the beach, and the same thing happens. Over and over, so slowly as to be imperceptible, the waves advance until the ocean covers the dry sand, which becomes familiar ocean floor, and life returns.

Some days are high tide, when life seems expansive, returning to my spiritual beach, and some are like low tide, when I pull in and commune with the sadness of not having Steve here. Then something immediate washes over me, and I'm back to focusing on the external, the now.

So getting back to real life is like an uphill sine wave; I rise and improve, then slump low, only to rise and improve again. With each cycle, I get a little higher than before, a little stronger, and each time I hit a slump, I haven't fallen as low as I did the last time. In short, this is a long, drawn out process, and personal changes can begin and end almost without my awareness.

The closer my trip gets, the more excited I am. Of course, there's a parallel feeling of anxiety, also slowly mounting, on taking such a trip without a companion. Last time I did that was my trip to Paris in 2002. But where I had a studio apartment catty cornered from the Louvre on that trip, I'm going to be visiting family this time around, some whom I haven't seen for nearly ten years.

One of my concerns is all my tickets (air and rail) are one-way, and I don't plan to take any checked baggage, so I'll probably be singled out for inspection, especially since the first leg of my trip is to Montreal, which takes me outside the U.S.

So I've got my to-do list going. At first, Steve chuckled politely at my list-making, until we took our trip to Europe. Once we were on the ground in London, he appreciated that we hadn't forgotten a thing.

Marcel in cleaner days: he's a ball of dirty dreadlocks now.

This time around, the to-do list is long and diverse, since I also have Social Security stuff to do, as well as tax season, smogging and registering the car, and planning for the cats while I'm gone. There are some tasks that I find harder to approach than others, and I'm not sure why that is, but they've all got to be done (including paying all the March bills) before I go.

As for the cats: Marcel has turned into a stubborn, deaf, arthritic, annoying, yowling lump of shedding fur that spends most of his time sleeping (and shedding) in the comfy chair up in the studio. He also gave up washing himself a few months ago, and he won't let me brush out the dreadlocks that have developed like kitty bed sores on his hindquarters. His demeanor is slow and surly, but if anything displeases him, he's quick to lash out with tooth and claw; a very hands-off cat. He's been losing weight over the last month or so, and I get the sense he's on his last legs; in a few months he may be no more. Patty, on the other hand, is young and sweet and personable. Since Steve's absence first began last September, she has glommed onto me as her primary love object, so I'm worried my absence will hit her hardest.

Patty down for the count, six toes to a paw.

The one big occurrence this week was going down and getting my eyes examined and ordering new glasses. It's been about five years since my last pairs (one for general use and one for at the computer), and without insurance this time around, I did my homework. Ends up there's a small and excellent optometrist's shop in the local Sears which gets consistent rave reviews online. I got an unhurried, thorough exam, top-end bifocal lenses and two frames (one of them Ray-Ban) for $450 (last time out, I spent $650 with my insurance plan). The glasses should be ready by month's end, and I'm looking forward to getting a new view of the world: Another wave washing the shore, another change.

While there, I noticed Sears also had a watch repair/key-making concern right next door to the optometrist, so I stopped in and got several key sets made for Jessie and Aria. Aria is the daughter of a woman I used to work with at the Hollywood Reporter, and they live here in Pasadena.

I have bought many Girl Scout cookies from Aria over the years (brokered by her mom, of course), so I was delighted to know that she was happy to come over and perform maintenance on the cats (food, water, litter box) every couple days while I am gone. The offer of $100 may have had something to do with it, too.

Jessie is also joining in. Since she's someone Patty knows (Patty is very phobic of strangers), Jessie agreed to come over a couple times a week, water the plants, watch some TV and make "at-home" noises for the cats' sake. Between Aria and Jessie, I'm hoping the cats will take my extended absence well and not equate it to Steve's disappearance. Also, I'm hoping Patty will ease up on the xenophobia and get friendly with Aria and Jessie.

Only recently have I allowed myself to think about the actual trip ahead; the people I'll visit, the places they'll show me, the things we'll catch up on, and always in the back of my head, one reason for the trip itself: where do I go from here? Hopefully, when I return home, I will be closer to an answer.