Hurt Me Daddy, for I Have Blogged

22. I wanted to not have to tell your story because I wished that it could have been a secret ritual between all of us. A beautiful passing, where once people stood and then the sands erased away. But you were wife and mother, and this is the other side of that, where it’s important to speak about you. So infrequently are those praises sung. I must tell of what you did. We lived a life. Yes, that I know. But you did so much more than that. And you are funny, witty, full of pointed statements. I must bring that to the center as well. I never want anybody to forget that. Parting pains us but I know that there will be other times when I will feel your jokes right there. Passing humor. Passing time. We recognize the timeframes now, still. We mark the passage of time with bodily functions. Those are still ticking well. You watch fear-based news, but now with the sound off. Most of the time with the sound off now. Maybe the tv is for the rest of us now. I can’t tell. I don’t think you ...

21. I wanted to see if I could get away with not talking about this because I didn’t want anybody to know. I wanted it to not be a big deal, that I could wake up one day and tell people that you had passed but that it wouldn’t be any kind of a drawn-out process, that there wouldn’t be any pain, that you might just sleep. But you were wife and mother and those facts seem to push me towards speaking of what you did. Beautiful and wise. These stations are not praised appropriately, still. We tick the time with your bodily motions, your words. We review names. You are Doina. I am your granddaughter. Your daughter is there with you, she is my mother, your other daughter lives far away but is going to call you on the phone. There are classic movies playing in the background. I wonder if you understand any of them. At least they seem to have stopped with the fear-based news. I wonder how much you perceive now and whether or not you understand me but I am fairly sure that you do. It i...

20.  I wanted to not have to talk about this if possible. But you were wife and mother and those praises go unsung for so long that I have to tell people about this. This work has value. But I had hoped that this could be some secret ritual between us all, since there are only women of our blood left now. Sadly it is not to be the case. It seems that towards the end, the players increase and the handlers must be educated if anything is going to feel compassionate. You still watch classic movies, but I don’t know whether you know anything that’s taking place. Maybe it is just good background noise to distract from the deathly silence. But you always did like TV. That makes me happy, I suppose. I heard that you had stayed up for so long talking about people who had passed years ago, whom you hadn’t spoken about in years. We tick the time based on your kidneys now, knowing full well that your discomfort is increasing. Maybe the movies are for us, too. Maybe we don’t want you to ...

19. I wanted to not have to talk about this because I thought it could be avoided. I wanted to not have to talk about this because I wanted it to be a secret. But you were wife and mother and those praises go so unsung. I want everyone to know, but I want nobody to know. I hate that you blamed yourself. “I was jealous” you said of your first husband. How embarrassing, that we would say this now. How unjust to you. I wish I could go back and tell you that in that moment. I talked to my mom on the phone yesterday. She said you were awake for 40 hours talking to people who had passed. As if this were a matter of practice. And then we thought it was going to happen, but it didn’t. A race against the proverbial clock or the opposite of that, whatever that is. Waiting. You watching classic movies still, or at least that still plays in the background. I don’t know whether you hear or understand anything now. I feel like I might now what day it will be almost, almost. Who fucking knows. ...

18. I wanted to not talk about this, to avoid talking about this for now. But I will need to tell somebody eventually. You are leaving us. You were wife and mother, and that story is so important. I found out that you were second in three generations of single mothers, at least those who experienced a brief period of single motherhood. That needs to be spoken to somebody. You blamed yourself for your first marriage failing. That broke my heart to hear. Now we try to go over the easy things. Your name. I am your granddaughter, this is your daughter. Your other daughter lives far away, in another country. You may not remember her at all sometimes. The veil gets thinner. You ask for your parents. You watch classic movies. I wonder how much of them you truly understand. Do you have your English at all still? I remember all the other relatives lost theirs before they went. With Gapa, speaking was too difficult at the end. But it’s getting late, and I need to go soon. You need to ...

Icky Mal Done urba droogy waiting for sundown to pick pocket and lye Willy Collar Takey sleazeboy pelvic examination, in toadstool cherries I said today gamine noted with sherry shorn shorthair The neutralized simpletons, he say he say, putting his fingerless gloves on He kiss his lady and he kiss his man, but he faithful he is, just like that tart Elle, she too smart for the schoolmen Mama Punchy and her trim wallets, the Professor, that lout, and Gypsy J. Frances. There her real country. Yeah I said it right. Ellie she stagger like Helena Bonham Carter all mood-whacked wild and breast hanging out in public like the boring girls, writing on tablet like a scribe, nonsense nobody from here can read or write Icky Mal, so impeccably clean, though his bode smell like taxidermy, and no noodles to waste him he on rich man’s gruel these days, so jealous this borough of killers is All the ladies leave him obscene though so fly by night gent; I knowed ...

17. I wanted to not have to talk about this. Maybe I thought that part of me could simply ignore it, that if I didn’t speak about it, all these things wouldn’t be true. But you were wife and mother and those are the most unsung praises of all. I learned that you were second in a line of single mothers, too. How strange that that could be common even then. And you tried to blame yourself for your first marriage not working. “I was jealous,” you said. This stunned me most of all. We review names. I don’t even know if you understand what time it is anymore. We try to go easy this time. I am your granddaughter. She is your daughter. Your other daughter lives very far away right now. Time is ticked by the ability of your insides to cooperate. That is how it works now. You still watch classic movies. But I wonder if you know at all what’s going on in them. Are you losing your English, or can you just not find it well anymore? I wonder about that too, about the extent of the confusion. ...

16. I wanted to not have to talk about this because I thought I could get away with not saying anything. But you were wife and mother, and I found out that there were three generations of single mothers in my family. That is somewhat rare for the time. And we never praise this station (to station). So I will tell people. I will try to speak the same story again, even though I feel like my abilities have gotten truncated. I say less and less, just like you do. We review names. We keep it simple now. You are Doina, but we haven’t bothered to go over that again. She is your daughter. I am your granddaughter. Your body ticks out habits. Your pain has increased. It doesn’t matter whether you remember us now. Maybe you can’t even see the clock. You see your habits. You still watch classic movies. I wonder how much you understand them. I wonder whether you have any English left. Sometimes the conversation with you is easier. Sometimes it’s more challenging. But I have to go soon. O...

15. I wanted to avoid talking about this. Sometimes I word it like that because that is the honest truth. I wanted to not have to talk about this passage of yours. But you were wife and mother and those praises go so unsung. I do all I can to even write the introductory lines on some days when I don’t have it in me to finish the rest. These womens’ rites were always secret. We are always in silence about these milestones. We are too quiet about the things we’ve endured. We blame ourselves when we try to protect our menfolk. “I was too jealous,” you said about your first husband. Bless you for not wanting to blame the man, but we do this too often. We review names in an easy way now. Sometimes we don’t even remind you of yours, but it’s important to us that you remember the names of people around you. Maybe it’s our ego. Maybe we want to be recognized til the end. Why is it important anyway? Maybe I would rather be in a fog when I go. Of course this makes me think of that, too. O...

14. I wanted to have to avoid writing this because I did not want to have to talk about it. Your life was so precious and hard but I wanted this to be a secret ritual just between us women. There were only women of our blood left anyhow. But you were wife and mother, and that is a story unsung, unappreciated. We must take care not to forget that. We review names. No longer yours. Just mine and my mother’s. No longer trying to give you too much information. Part of me has a feeling that you will be talking until the end. Who a woman is in relation to other people has been so important in her life. This reminds me of that. You still watch classic movies. Now I don’t know what you recognize about them, if anything. I wonder if they are just background noise to eliminate the deafening silence of death. This is real now. I wonder if they are secret angels of optimism, or if you even understand their English anymore. But it is getting late, and your sleep patterns have change...

13. I wanted to keep this to myself, but people were yelling at me for my scatteredness because they didn’t understand what was going on with me. I still don’t want them to know. But you were wife and mother. Three generations of single motherhood in my family now, actually. I am planning to break the cycle. People should know about you to know what you went through. Three generations. I have heard that song before. I am going to tell people. We review very, very basic names. You are Doina. My mom is here and sometimes you remember her name. I am your granddaughter. We’ve stopped trying to explain the familial relations now. We try to focus on names. You go very slowly. (This writing was truncated because I didn’t want to deal with the rest of it.)

12. I wanted to have to avoid speaking it, as if it were our secret. Use the subjunctive, they say. We are zombies of fatigue now. At least you get to sleep. Today my mother told me the whole story of our lineage by your side. Three generations of single mothers. Bipolar in the women on both sides of my family. We are reduced to medical memories. We usually are anyway during this lifetime. I don’t want to tell anybody. I want to tell everybody. When do I get to start telling people? We review names, but now they are single ones. “I am your daughter” is now too complicated. No series of lists. They moved you to a hospital bed. You did not want to be there. You did not want to be moved. My mom said you had started cussing out your caretaker. Part of me was secretly proud, like maybe it was some energy left in you yet. You still watch classic movies. There should be something in the background to distract you from your thoughts. You called out to my grandfather in your sleep. M...

11. I didn’t want to have to talk about this because I had hoped that we could keep it a secret ritual. It seems that you’ve been going for a long time now. But you were wife and mother and it seems so rare that anyone sings those praises anymore. You were once studying to be a doctor. But you were too beautiful. That’s what my mom always said. And now we are here, going through this. We review names. You are Doina. I am your granddaughter, not your daughter. Your daughter is over there. Your other daughter lives far away. Maybe she had the right idea in that. Time is ticked by bodily functions. Time doesn’t matter now. Maybe it never did. It was only one particular way, to always be pressing forward with time. You watch Jimmy Stewart movies and fear-based news. I wonder if the news keeps you alive, or maybe just paying attention. I wouldn’t want to be paying attention right now. I wonder if you actually remember the movies or if you are watching them for the first time. How ...

10.  I had hoped we did not need to talk about this because I had hoped we could let is pass silently. A ritual between just us. No one would have to know. At the most sacred sites, they have let the dust blow it away. But you were wife and mother, and those praises are too often unsung. That is why people should know about this. But why must I have to justify that? Any life is worth knowing. Still, I had hoped that this could be our secret. With Ticu it felt strangely organized. Three months. Go here, do this, then this is the next action. This time, my mother stares, bleary-eyed. It’s as if time has gone away from all of us. We review names and relationships. Is that what woman’s worth is at the end? You are Doina. I am not, in fact, your daughter. I am your granddaughter. That is your daughter. Your other daughter lives far away. I often think that she was so sharp for leaving as she did. This family can get suffocating sometimes. I want rest, too. I have not cared for you...

9.  I wanted to keep this a secret. I didn’t want anybody to have to know. But you were wife and mother and never are those praises sung. Sometimes on gravestones. Sometimes. But that is why I decided to talk about it. Part of me had hoped that this could be a secret ritual, since there were only women of our blood. Part of me hopes that some can be dead and gone with only secret markers that the winds sweep away. These rituals are so painful. We review names. You are Doina. I am your granddaughter, not your daughter. That is your daughter. You have another daughter, who lives far away in Romania. But you probably can’t recall her face. We try to look at photo albums together. We try to bring dignity to the bodily tickings watched by the clock. Maybe that is the only way anybody remembers anything after a while. Time seems artificial. Maybe you don’t perceive it. You watch Jimmy Stewart movies and fear-based news. I wonder if it all keeps you alive somehow. I wonder if it...

8. I wanted to not have to talk about this. I wanted to keep it secret as a sacred item between us, between the women of our blood, because there was only us left. But you were wife and mother, and the praises of this are never sung enough. It is taken for granted. I wanted the world to know how you were, about the foundation that you laid, what a jewel of intelligence and wit you possessed. I never knew how you did it on your fixed income. We review names. You are Doina. I hear now that you have been calling for Ticu in your sleep. Maybe he is close. Maybe in our minds we know. But we never know how long it will be or take. This is your daughter. I am your granddaughter. Not your daughter. Your other daughter lives far away. Basic self-identification is complicated. How we read our own existence has ascended to the collective memory. You watch fear-based news and Jimmy Stewart movies. I wonder if you even remember his name. I wonder if he is an image who reminds you of a sle...

7. I had hoped that it would be possible to keep this to myself for now. And it could be, but you were wife and mother and I believe that people need to sing the praises of that more. Too often we are silent. My mother acts like you have an indefinite amount of time to be here, but that you also might be here tomorrow. As if all time were compressed into one tiny ball, one dot, one moment of realism. With Ticu it seems like we had a schedule. Three months. Everything felt so organized. Time does strange things now. It has become more a guideline than a rule, but then sometimes a thing you have to pray to religiously. You mark the time with medical routines, bodily functions. Your kidneys tick and tock. But it could be today or it could be weeks from now. You watch old Jimmy Stewart movies and fear-based news. I wonder if this keeps you alive somehow. I wonder if Stewart is an angel of idealism in a world where I’d rather not understand what was going on around me either. Maybe he ...

6.  I wanted to not have to talk about this. It sounds different when you put it that way. I wanted this to be kept a secret, for it to be our own private, personal ritual. Only we would know after the sands washed away, we would only have story. But you were wife and mother, and too few people tell that story, so there was another reason to speak it. We mark the time now with the ticking of your kidneys. I wonder what time feels like to you, whether those anchor points throughout your day, food and bathroom, shorten it or stretch it. There is something more sacred about these rituals not being talked about. You watch old Jimmy Stewart movies and fear-based news. In my head or sometimes even to my friends I joke that the news keeps you alive. Keeps the heart pumping if there is some kind of conflict, if there is the ever-present illusion that we will lack peace. Maybe we will keep running after it. Daylight Savings time promises to change everything. We review the anchor...

5. I wanted this to be kept secret because I didn’t want people to know about our rituals. There is something more sacred about a person’s passing not being told about somehow. Especially because it is only women of our blood left now. It is less medical, less meted out. With Ticu we had markers of time. Three months. Do this, then this is the next step. With you it seems that we might not know. You remember little pieces of things. Moments. Words, names, sometimes who someone is in relation to you. That is the core of our understanding. But it feels wrong not to talk about it, because you were wife and mother, and somehow we have not yet learned to praise such important work. This was your work. You could have done more too, but what is the use in speculating? First, you married a man who was unfaithful. You told all of us, so that we would remember. Now your life is marked out by routines and Jimmy Stewart movies. I wonder how you watch the movies. Do you recall when you first...

4.  I didn’t want to tell this story to anybody because I thought it was somehow more proper to try to keep it secret. There are only women of our blood left, so maybe this could be a secret ritual between us. Nobody would have to know. But you were wife and mother, and that work is long-uncelebrated. So there is reason to speak of it now, there is reason to tell this. You were wife and mother. What they used to call the most important job. Time does strange things when you are this age. We review names. You are Doina. You are. I am me, I am your granddaughter. This is your daughter. Your other daughter, Christine, lives far away. Who is this woman next to you? My daughter, you say. No. We have to keep reviewing. Your kidneys tick-tock your life. But time doesn’t matter to you. Everything old is new again. You watch Jimmy Stewart movies and fear-based news. I used to joke that the news kept you alive. When I could joke about things. And to other people. But I don’t know w...

3. I wanted to talk about this, but not in a way that someone else could own. It’s important to talk about, because you were wife and mother and people rarely sing those praises and I wanted to remember that. But I wished that I could be silent about it because I wanted this to be our private ritual. Our secret. There were never any men of our blood. They were all by marriage. Did you realize? All our lineage was woman. This is a thing to keep sacred. You mark the time with rituals. Your kidneys are a ticking function. Time is no longer necessary when we have these. But time is for the men anyway. Who knows when the time will come? Spring forward, they’ll say. Will you get to see even that? You watch Jimmy Stewart movies all the time and fear-based news programs. I wonder whether somewhere in your mind Jimmy Stewart is making you feel better about humanity. I wonder if you even really know what goes on in those movies, or if you actually watch because some part of your mind h...

2. I wanted you to go untalked-of. But not unremembered. That would be strange, ironic, since your memory only comes in spurts now. Untalked of so no mortal spirits have ownership of this time. The time that you and I and mom only remembered together and Claudia too, those people who help us at the end of life and into the next are the most important. You mark the time by habits now; basic bodily functions. Who owns our laughter and our sadness? There will be a timespan on the grave marker. My mom said she couldn’t buy it in advance, that that was too heartless. I understand her, even though she thinks I don’t always. We go over our names and relationships again. You were mainly wife and mother. A neglected profession. That is part of why I feel strange about my silence around this. This is your daughter, I am your granddaughter. We remind you. You watch Jimmy Stewart movies and sometimes awful, fear-based news. I joked that this helped keep you alive. Claudia prepares your f...

1. I thought that if I didn’t tell anybody you were on your way out, nobody would notice. “Time is for the men.” I could see you saying that with a twinkle in your eye at a different time. When Ticu died, we had endpoints. We had three months. Everything was organized. With you it ebbs and flows. We know the cycle will end but there are days and light and markers and rituals but there is something about you that stands outside of that. You were not the one who went to prison. You didn’t fight. You went to university for a little bit. You were bright, witty, beautiful. Your accomplishment was being a wife and mother. I want to sing the praises because for too long that was kept silent by all. But I wanted to be quiet about it because I thought we could do this ritual in the dark. Most of our men are gone now anyway. There are a few, but they are all by marriage now. Our blood is only the women left. Strange and beautiful, as if we get to have our own mysteries. I don’t want them t...

My writing wants to get out so badly right now. I suppose it will do so at any cost. There are a number of things going on right now. My grandmother just passed, and this week/past week is the anniversary of two significant deaths in my circle in the past. So many thanks to everyone right now for their condolences and thoughts. Too much news of people sick and in the hospital. Not ok with that at the moment. I would like to walk towards the future I want, but I know how the Negative Ego works. Lots of obstacles in my way now, including physical. I hope not severely physical. I should find out tomorrow. Much has shifted, much has changed. The expulsion of all things that don’t serve me happened. An alcoholic whom I supported for too long is moving away (geez, when your exes are right about you, that’s depressing.) On occasional days, that thorn sticks in my side. That I was too depressed for this, or too unfriendly for that, too hard to work with, too much, too litt...