Karla's Cottage

Pretty stones

When Twinkle passed, I brought her home from the vet’s office to show her to the other dogs.  I knew they would look for her if I didn’t.  You might think it’s odd, but we showed Ryan’s body to our pets too. They were overly excited about a room filled with paramedics and other professionals during a pandemic when they hadn’t been around many people, so it wasn’t exactly a moving moment. 

But at least they knew why Uncle Ryan wasn’t around for ear scratches and walks any more.

It would’ve been easier to have Twinkle cremated, my husband was out of town and it was 100 degrees that day.  But I hated to think of the other dogs always looking for her and not knowing where she was.

I buried her next to Ryan’s memorial tree.  

A dear friend and her daughter had engraved and painted rocks for me and I’d been planning on placing them by this oak.  I am glad I hadn’t done it yet, they were just what I needed to top Twinkle’s grave.

I used some of the rocks in planters too.  

Ryan is never out of my thoughts, but I still like to have little trinkets and mementos of him around me.

 

 

 

 

He cared so much about things that made me happy

We had lovely remembrance moments for Ryan.  On Sunday, some exceptionally wonderful friends brought over dinner and wine.  

We sat on the patio, and we all cuddled pups before I spread some ashes on the Uncle Tree and gave an egoogley (Zoolander for eulogy).

The Sugarbabies thought the get together was all about them.

Well, typically, everything is.  But my pals were very kind and considerate about honoring Ryan. 

It was a small, but meaningful group.

Ryan’s legal time of death is the 24th, but we feel like he died the night of the 23rd, so we did something both days for him.

On Monday, we tried to get as many of the family as we could together for a walk on Ryan’s favorite trail, dinner at a place he loved, and squeezed in between all of that, an 8th grade concert.

The day we found him, we had planned a big, family walk on the trails he loved.  

But that didn’t happen.

We took a walk there a year later in his honor, and I brought some ashes to sprinkle.  I wasn’t sure where I would do it, until I saw this perfectly mossy heart!

I can almost hear the excitement in his voice, if he’d been with me when I found it.  He cared so much about things that made me happy.  We often took time to stop and exclaim over tidbits that I found, or just to watch the red wing black birds in the pond.  

“He cared so much about things that made me happy.”

That sums up a lot about Ry Guy.  I was beyond blessed to have a person in my world who wanted me to smile.

 

 

One year today. No words

Honoring my grief

I have had a rough few weeks emotionally.  It started with thinking I’d lost a bag of Ryan’s ashes that I wanted to spread in Indiana while stopping there.  Luckily, I found them (put away safely, that is always a mistake, isn’t it?) Then on our visit to my hometown, no one there mentioned Ryan, so it didn’t feel right to bring up sprinkling ashes.  

We didn’t have a funeral for Ryan due to quarantine. At the time, I was too wrecked to care, and was almost glad that I didn’t have to deal with it.  But over the last year, I have begun to feel as if Ryan was cheated out of something he deserved.  He spent his life quietly in the background without many people knowing just what a great guy he was.  Was not having a ceremony another instance of Ryan fading into the background?  And is it too late now to have one?

Part of Rich’s family had a small ceremony at the Lake House last summer, and I treasure the wind chimes we made together as each person had something to say about Ry and clipped their piece of the chime together.  It was lovely, and so thoughtful of them.  I didn’t realize how much we had needed that at the time.

Thinking that I’d misplaced the ash made me remember every single bad mom incident throughout my boys’ childhood.

Then, I was overwhelmed by having a shivery cold snap hit us after three weeks of camping and needing to winterize the camper to prevent frozen pipes (while still traveling with it). We had to scramble to find alternate lodgings and between Easter weekend and spring break, plus traveling with three dogs, there just weren’t any to be found.

Seriously, it wasn’t a big problem, and it got solved, but I was irrationally upset about it, beyond the scope of the actual problem itself.   Since then, my attitude had been getting worse, and my sadness was building too.  

The anniversary of Ryan’s death looming over me has been almost more than I could handle and I let other stressors feed on that pain.

This might sound silly, but watching the season finale of the Walking Dead without him and knowing the series was ending soon, about wrecked me.  A new season of Top Chef starting, without RyGuy next to me to watch it was rough too.  The shows we watched together were important to us.  We’d pick apart details of the programs on our walks and talk about what we thought should happen next, who should be eaten by a zombie or pack their knives and go.

Thinking of the soon to be born litter of pups coming without Ryan by my side had been causing me torment instead of the joy I should have anticipating all those sweet babies due soon, too.  It was beginning to feel like everything was a reminder of how sad I was.

Everyone needs time to grieve and to acknowledge those raw emotions.  But letting them take over was not healthy, and I needed to get control of my world again. 

I will always miss my boy, nothing will change that.  Living with grief will be something I cannot change.  But dealing with grief and loss by appreciating what I have is something I can do.  Letting my raw nerves run my life certainly wasn’t helpful.  


So I took action.  

I had a sincere talk about issues that had come up with someone I cared about, who also had major worries of her own.  

I wrote a long, long letter to Ryan.  For months after he died, I filled his urn with notes and messages, but had gotten away from “talking” to him that way.  I gave myself a full day of just missing him, looking through the journal I’d made for him, (hugging it tightly against me and sobbing), watching shows he loved, writing to him and going for a walk like we used to together.  Instead of letting that underlying unhappiness brew inside me and make me antsy and sad, I let it rise to the top of my emotions and didn’t try to hide it or pretend I was fine.  

I painted.  And painted.  Pour paints are sooooo soothing.  Watching those colors glide and swirl is good for the soul.

I made plans with friends and family. I’m sharing a paint pour day with friends, having a craft day, and having a family dinner night with my fairy flock. 

Most of all, I honored Ryan by just missing him. And missing him a lot.  We both loved springtime, but he isn’t here to enjoy it, I’ll need to show my appreciation for the season enough for both of us.

 

My husband took a trip to Omaha to watch his nephew compete in jr college wrestling nationals, and I used that time to organize the studio and garage, gather supplies, mix up paints, and then dove deeply into swirling those colors around on a few canvases.

Acrylic paint pouring is an expensive hobby, but such a relaxing one.   I look forward to having a couple play dates with family and with friends.  It will be just as mesmerizing to watch them tilt and twirl the paint around.  I find the process healing.

Grief will never leave. But how I choose to have it in my life is up to me.

 

 

 

 

An Estate Sale in Ottawa, KS that opened some floodgates for me

My friend, Angie called me to say she had someone cancel on her and she could use a couple hours of help at an estate sale she was running.

(304 E 11th Street in Ottawa, half price on Saturday the 19th)

While there were plenty of vintagey goods, practical items, and tons of tools for sale, the star of the day was the house itself.

Throughout the day, I explored all of the excellently preserved details of this pristine old house.  It made me feel nostalgic for my mom’s house in Sioux City, IA.  Hers was from the same era and style, also had that great woodwork and arched entryway doors.

Mom’s home didn’t have the original potties, though.   This house had delicious tiling and the baths were updated but not gutted and redone.  The rose and black might have been my fave.

(Delicious might not be a good word to describe a bathroom, but, honestly, that color is pretty dang tasty!)

But, no maybe this room is my favorite color combo- the soft green with a hint of lilac?  How springy and delightful!

The woodwork throughout was magnificently crafted too.  And filled with French doors.  My mother took her French doors off and stored them in the basement for some odd reason.  Maybe so my crazy, wild boys wouldn’t ride a tricycle through them.

They weren’t the only kids raised in that place, it was also the childhood home of Ann Landers and Dear Abby.  I have a feeling the advice sisters weren’t as rambunctious as my kiddos, but then not many were.

Luckily, this was marked NFS, or it would’ve been in the back of my pickup, and I do not need it. 

I sure WANT it.

The basement was filled with the original workings of the old place, and that again brought back memories of Mom’s house on Nebraska Street. There was a laundry chute here just like the one my sons threw all of their toys down.

Visions of two year old Adam dropping trucks down onto four year old Ryan’s head in the basement were bittersweet.  And I laughed out loud with tears in my eyes as I recalled running down the hall and screaming, “Noooo!  The dog cannot go down the chute!” Just in time to save that poor little schnauzer.

It has been a rough week for me, I definitely needed this day out to work with Angie. The added bonus of spending the day in a home that brought so many forgotten times rushing back was good..

May is coming up, and it is filled with land mines for my heart.  My birthday and Mother’s Day were dates that Ryan never failed to make me feel treasured on.

Then the end of May brings the anniversary of his death.

It is still April, but the mere  thought of May has been wringing tears out of me while anticipating the calendar page about to turn.

And horrifically, some dear friends recently lost their son. I spent a week making a journal/album for him and feeling their pain with each drop of glue I used.

On top of that, I’ve had someone I trust turn on me and flip my view of our relationship up and twist it around.

Memories can be a blessing and a curse at the same time.  All I can do for now is roll with the emotions, enjoying the stories that play in my mind while missing my boy.

Bad things happen, sadness continues to occur, but I need to hang out to those good memories and think about those funny little boys with the giant pile of toys under the laundry chute in the basement.

Or I will never survive this.  Those memories need to be my lifeline.

 

 

 

Trying to be creative

The malaise of 2020 is spilling over into 2021 for me.  I have made efforts to be creative and busy, but haven’t had any project consume me, like they have in the past.

Lots of embroidery happened, because it’s kind of a mindless task, just to keep my hands busy in front of the TV.

I’ve had some studio time, but it is all a lot of simple projects, like doodling on this tag.

Or trying to make my own dog tags.  I have also painted a lot of things, repaired and reorganized. But most were “one of”.  Nothing prolific, as I have always been in the past.  Typically, if I make something, I can’t stop and next thing you know, there are twenty of them.

I made a scrapbook for Ryan, fairy wings with the grand fairies, and added a vinyl floor to the closet/laundry room.

That was a long delayed job, and has made the floor much warmer.

I even decided that I’d start grooming the dogs myself.

At least the little dogs.

So, I’ve kept busy.  I’ve gone for long walks, had socially distant visits with friends, and stayed active.  I think the unease and uncertainty in the world because of the virus, and the unimaginable loss of my son who was also one of my best friends has dampened my drive. 

We have a camper trip planned, and I hope to clear my mind and refresh my soul with some sea air.  When I get back, I’d like to work on reopening my shop.  It’s not exactly closed, but it is ignored right now. It would be good for me to revamp and restock for spring.

It has been important to me that I don’t lose myself to the sadness, that I keep crafting, creating, contributing.  And while nothing will ever be the same, I am slowly trying to rebuild my world. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A book for Ryan

When Ryan died, I looked on Facebook, my blog, old albums, anywhere I could to gather photos of him.

With a break to raise puppies, I have been working on a scrapbook for him since.

Some times, the pictures and memories would reduce me to a puddle of snot and tears so, I couldn’t work on it every day.

The goal was to have it done today, his birthday.  

He was a guy who loved his birthday!  He usually took a week off of work, just to relax.

Although, relaxing for Ryan meant going to the gym to work out and walking 20,000 steps a day.  

I will celebrate his birthday by going for a walk, and have been trying to get one in daily this week, like I would’ve if he’d been with me.  

On cold days, we’d go to the community rec center.  I was worried about using it now, but checked it out, and it is pretty empty.  The track is built as a loft over four basketball courts that are not open due to Covid.  It is a newer building and seems airy.  

On nice days, I walk on the sidewalks and trails we used to go on together.  But there has been a cold streak in Kansas, so I needed to use the track for his birthday week.  Which is tough, because it requires a mask.  That in itself is fine, but when I am thinking of how much I enjoyed running, walking and talking with my boy, I start to cry.

You can’t cry well in a mask.  

So, I listen to an audiobook and try not to sob and get my mask soggy, since I can’t take it off to blow my nose.

Ryan’s book is finished, I made it from the canvas of a pour painting that he hung in his apartment.

I wish he would’ve joined me in creating a painting of his own.  He did hang out with me as I swirled and played with paints, and he loved watching them come together.

The charm on this book was a pour paint necklace that he wore.

The book itself is a planner from Hobby Lobby.  I cut the painting off its frame and pieced a gold toned canvas together to cover the exterior.

The interior is covered in a red canvas he also had in his room.

Ryan’s life long friends gave me an entire folder filled with sketches and doodles he did over the decades while playing card games with them!

What a treasure!

Some I cut up to make a collage, others I used as backgrounds as is. And the rest I used as additions throughout the book.  I included some condolence cards too, this page is made of a card from his friends’ mom.

It’s too bad my hand writing isn’t nice, but it was still very important to me to add stories, so I didn’t let it bother me.

On this page, I listed some of his favorite tv shows, that we’d watch together.

And I added a few on my own doodles too.  

Now that it is done, I am wishing that I’d bought a bigger book to use.  This is stuffed tightly, and I would’ve liked to add printed pages from my blog about Ryan.  There is no space left in this book.  

I will keep this book by my favorite chair.

There is no recovery from a loss like this.

But there is comfort in reminiscing, and in memories.

Working on this album was healing for me.

 
And I’ll be glad to keep it nearby.

Collecting memories

For Christmas, I had some blown glass pendants and beads made from Ryan’s ashes.  They are done by a local artist, Vaughn. 


They are even prettier in person.  It is hard to get a good photo to show the luminous quality they have.

Vaughn had a holiday special with free beads added to the order.   I added some to this larimar, aquamarine, and adventurine stone necklace that I made.

(Oops, the silver bail is upside down in the pic).

This is a necklace that I’d already made and had dangled a bead from my father’s ashes on.  One of Ryan’s beads matched it, so I placed it next to my dad’s.

Ryan had a bead from my dad’s ashes and really appreciated it.   I had a rough time looking at my order when I picked it up, Ryan’s voice was in my head as I pictured how excited he would’ve been by how beautiful the pieces are.  He was always so enthusiastic and appreciative.  

I have a pendant to create a necklace with for myself.  The others went onto hemp or leather cords for Adam and Rich to wear, another hangs from Rich’s truck visor, and one hangs from the ash urn.  

When the puppies were born I took a break from working on Ryan’s scrapbook, then the holidays came along.  I think I need to get back into working on it.  It is a painful process, but in a good way.  I spend time reminiscing about each photo, and thinking about my boy.

Not that I don’t think about him all of the time, with or without reminders. I don’t need mementos to feel Ryan near me.  

But I am drawn to these items, the gifts that came after he died. The blooms I dried from flower arrangements sent to us.  The photos, the wind chimes, so many little things.  Sometimes they make me smile, other times, I still crumple with grief.  

Mostly, I am comforted by keeping these things around me.  

A Forever Gingerbread House

One of our favorite holiday traditions is making gingerbread houses.

This started way back, when Sugarwings was even younger than in this photo.  She would have a house that was a work in progress for a month or so, adding to it as a craft project for the whole holiday season.

We never ate any of the candy, and were adamant about calling the goodies “decorations” never candy.  We saved them up and used them year to year, those candy pieces that come with the packaged houses do not rot.  And I even wonder if they are edible anyway?

When Dewdrop came along, she joined in too with her own house. But learning about not eating the decorations was hard for her.  We were constantly hollering, “That is older than you are!”

In the last few years with the addition of new grand fairies joining the group, we have turned Ginger Bread Night into a family event and I started stocking up on clearance priced kits at the end of the year.    We still call out,

“Those decorations are older than Mayara!” 

Because some of those gumdrops are honestly from ten years ago. No one is seriously tempted to eat them we just enjoy saying it.

When Ryan finally switched to a job where he could be around in the evenings, I discovered that he had an obsession with holiday baking shows and the Gingerbread wars were his favorite.  We watched them together and would plan our own super structures. (They still turned out like badly done kits, which is what they were, but we loved dreaming that we could accomplish artistry.)

Sugarwings and I decided to build a gingerbread village from wooden birdhouses in honor of her uncle, who loved the creations so much.

I used some metal pieces painted white and buttons on mine.

The icing is puffy paint and glitter.

While mine is still not equal to the mastery of the shows Ryan and I watched together, I think that I do much better with paint than with royal icing.

And it had been awhile since I shared studio space with this kid.  She is now a teen who doesn’t appreciate being photographed while trying to concentrate, so don’t judge the grumpy face pictured here.  We had a great day together and look forward to making the rest of our village.

 

 

 

A year with few ornaments- A Pinecone Christmas

This year is different.  

Way, way different.

I just wasn’t sure how I wanted to handle Christmas and vacillated between nothing or all out. When I contemplated not having any decor, I felt deflated.  When I thought about facing the many giant tubs of Holiday Foof, I felt overwhelmed.

I knew that I needed brightness to cheer up the long stretch of oncoming cold and darkness.  So, I thought I’d plug in a few strands of lights and add garlands over my windows, get out some prelit trees, and a few other things near the tops of the tubs.  

Digging through decades of collected Christmas ornaments seemed to be asking for a crying jag. What could I come across that would break my heart? So, I decided that all I needed was some glitter and glow, not trees filled with handmade or lovingly collected vintage and family ornies.  

A silver tree that I pulled from the closet already had some decorations from last year stuck in its branches.  I left those and added a few glitter covered balls and other pieces that I typically considered “filler” not the main show.  Nothing sentimental, just sparkly.

Usually, I go ALL OUT, like my hero, Clark Griswald does with his million, tiny, twinkle lights.  I pack up every knick  knack and replace it with holiday glee.  This year, that was done on a minimal basis, I set up a few displays, but mostly just lights. And I was enjoying the process.  As my house got more twinkly, I felt more joyful myself.

Then, I found a bag of pinecones in the back of the storage closet behind the unused tubs of memories that I tried to protect myself from.  You never know when grief will strike you, and there is no amount of being careful that can avoid it.  

A year ago, on one of our trail walks, I saw the perfect pinecones to make gnomes out of.  We had Sugar with us, and were on a segment of our walk notorious for squirrels, so she was on full alert and ready to bolt at any time.  Ryan and I had our little jokes, and one of them was that certain stretches of our walks were “danger zones” where we had to be cautious with Sugar or we’d be surprised by her leaping after her prey and jerking the leash from our hands.  (I know, bad dog training on my part, not her fault).

 As we’d turn a corner and come across these spots, one of us would always say, “watch out, we are going into a danger zone”.  We thought it was an even funnier joke when we were walking poor, blind, old Twinkle who wouldn’t notice a squirrel if it sat on her head.

I wanted those pinecones, and we started grabbing them up as fast as we could and both stuffing them in our pockets, laughing hard, while joking that we had to hurry and get away from the danger zone.  It was silly, but it was fun.  That week, we gathered up a few more on other walks, laughing and filling our jacket pockets, rushing to get out of the squirrel infested area before Sugar took off.

Ryan and I had simple pleasures and repetitive conversations about little things.  There wasn’t a single time we walked by that area without commenting, and Ryan offering to grab a few more pinecones.  I said I had enough, we’d get more the next Christmas. 

I had no idea there would not be another Christmas for my son.

Finding that bag of pinecones about wrecked me.  After I recovered from sobbing over them, they made me smile.  And I started tucking them into branches of a couple trees.  I put Twinkle on her leash and we took a walk to that danger zone to fill a big bag with more, and brought those back to add to the holiday decor.  

When I see the simplicity of a pinecone in a sparkling tree, it reminds me of Ryan and what we shared.