In My Life

by MERRIE K. BRANTSEG

There are places I’ll remember All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living In my life I’ve loved them all ...
—John Lennon

Our cats, our friends.

The weather has been inclement so Steve and I put off digging Elroy’s grave until the last couple of weeks—added to the fact that we’ve not been able to face the final piece of seeing him again and putting him in the ground.

During our time of avoidance in this matter we have been attempting the start of a new business involving the two of us working together. We are both artists, apparently unemployable in the current world business market—too old school and not on cutting edges of any technology/education. More than ever I understand the notion of a man/woman “Out of Time” and best suited for a different culture/era in history.

Some friends advised us to think about housecleaning and working for ourselves. Several years ago they worked as a husband/wife team—raised two kids, made house payments and paid bills doing this work.

We possess one vehicle so this would make sense transportation-wise and we both worked managing a good-sized apartment building for 14-plus years—lots of cleaning experience under our proverbial belts. We are both physically strong/healthy and are able to do either green cleaning or the old style, depending on client personal preference. I have Feng Shui knowledge about placement and clutter so can advise if clients are of a mind for something new in their homes/lives.

We found that several other musician/artist friends do this, among other things, to help bring in an income, and that kinda sealed the deal in our heads, so we told a few people about it and two of those friends offered their assistance in getting us started. Thank you E and G from our hearts!

We so appreciate your kindness and generosity—may it return to you a hundred fold.

E and G designed/printed up flyers and tear-off posters, along with business cards, proclaiming the name “You’ve Got It Maid.” The paper colors are brilliant, so noticing them is easy and they sort of remind me of being in India again with the hot pinks, greens, yellows and oranges. The business cards are a sedate white respectable-looking lot that can be handed over without qualms of appearing overly flashy.

Steve and I have been driving all over different areas of the city looking for public business places to put the tear-offs and found to our dismay that there are few places that now allow this. The common business community posting board has also given way to sterile establishments and gone off to internet posting boards. For me, on some level, this has an internal effect of sadness as I love the written word passionately. And for me, the act of holding/viewing a piece of paper or a book feels like home. Redundant. Out of Time.

We drove to communities where the homes appear to have owners with disposable incomes—these are the individuals in this Time that are still able to employ others so that they themselves might do different things with their spare moments. We parked on side streets, got out of our car and ran up to homes dropping off flyers ... thinking of ourselves as birds dropping seeds on lawns, hoping at least one will take to the soil and sprout. We have other places for future flyer drop-offs and wonder if we will have to venture out to the far suburbs as nothing has happened yet. With the gas crisis and an old car we have kept up hope that this won’t be necessary. Where, oh where, is my Toyota Prius? (Smile)
We really, truly, are at a point where there has to be an income flowing into our lives or- or- or- or- or ... oh god, I just can’t go to that place of despair without feeling like I’m going under so I literally work on changing my focus when those thoughts arise.

We took the step and called the vet on Monday, May 19, to let them know we’d be coming for Elroy on the 21st. We cried all the way to the vet, collected Elroy and felt his body and fur through the green plastic and cried some more. It was odd how physically heavy he felt and the death part didn’t seem real.

When we got home we removed the plastic and saw him looking as if he were sleeping. His eyes were closed and we spent time touching him for the very last time in this Time. To start our good-byes we brought out our player and put on a nagaswaram CD. In India, this instrument is played for ceremonial events of magnitude—the tones are like none other and it was fitting for our boy’s journey. Many advanced cultures from long Time past recognized the unique Energy that we term Cat and at times of death made intricate death ritual ceremonies honoring their spirits.

We placed him in a box lined with a red/black/yellow cat- themed bath towel. Around him we placed a can of his favorite food, his soft yellow fetch ball, three of his mice—one ancient chewed thing from years ago that I found a while back, one with a tail still intact so he could chew it off (as he typically did first thing) and another large soft one to curl next to him.

We placed the two sympathy cards that were sent for him (Thanks G and C and Karen and family) in a baggie along with a single picture of his face and one of him with his other two brothers curled together in one big catball. He grew up with incense so we included a stick of the good stuff, and a small baggie of catnip, a small turquoise for protection on his journey and a sprig of newly-budded lavender lilacs.

We tenderly tucked the towel around him and sealed the box. We put lilacs on top and then proceded to shovel the area in with garden dirt. Steve raked the area clean and we placed large rocks in a circle surrounding his resting place. I planted a red impatiens flower plant on top and put the last sprig of lilac near. We lit a Mary candle, leaving it burn. Steve and I awoke at different times last night and got up looking out the window seeing a soft illumination dance on the fence. We each felt good that he had some light with him for his first night. It is now Thursday evening and the candle is still going so we’ll let it go until it burns itself out.

Steve and I cried until our eyes felt permanently blurred and swollen beyond belief. To find some solace, we drove to Minnehaha Falls and walked by the water—listening to an enormity of nature filling our heads, driving out some of the sorrow.

There is a spiritual component with every relationship—whether it is between lovers, friends, parents/kids, business partners, relationships with one’s property and relationships with humans and their “companimals.” The component is composed of a separate energy that is made from the combination of the original two. It can be healthy, strong, weak, dysfunctional—but it is there nonetheless. Probably the idea comes from where it states one must “water” the garden of a relationship and tend to it or it will wither and die. This component is many times referred to in religious marriage services and is part of a holy trinity. The Two become One from which the “Three” is born.

When people grieve and bury a loved one something of them involving the“Third part” is also going into the grave. I’ve always wondered why you hear of people divorcing some time after a child in the family dies. I thought the fellowship in the mourning would make the bond stronger rather than severing the tie. I now understand that each person experiences grief in such an individual manner and no one really has the true understanding of the depth and composition of the personal grief.

So many things are woven into relationships—all that Time and the events/peoples/situations/emo-tions ... each one creating a garment unique beyond words. We may look at the garment and recognize it; however, the total understanding of another’s grief garment is an impossibility. This is where each of us is forced to feel our alone-ness and then go on from that point. Some shared relationships in grief become stronger and some fall apart. When the something between them that went in the grave was the glue, there is nothing left to really keep the original bond in place. This can be the fallout effect from death.

Steve and I have been talking a lot about how this has touched us on many levels—sometimes it is so hard to remember that Energies never die, Love never dies and that it is the Human-ness of us that feels the illusion of Loss ... that we are here on this planet to feel ALL the feelings and explore them when they arrive in our lives. Some emotions, simply put, are way more challenging to deal with than others.

I’m blessed and grateful that Steve and I chose to meet up in our Time to share the Experience in all its forms.
In my Life.