Basically Betty

Time's a funny thing.

We all know how slowly time seemed to have gone when we were young.  It took, or at least it seemed like it took, ages to get out of elementary school.  We had junior high (not middle schoole) when I was a kid and the 3 years spent in junior high were insufferably long.  Then came high school, another 3 years, and again, time seemed to drag. 

The pace quickened when I got into my twenties, my thirties are completely unaccounted for, my forties a blur and so far, my fifties are at warp speed. 

I remember the first time I flew coast to coast, I couldn't believe I'd be on a plane for 6 whole hours in a single leg of my routing and yet, I was and yet, I have been countless times as I've continued several trips "home" to St. Pete a year, each of these almost 30 years I've been living on the West Coast. 

I remember the first time I went to Europe and I couldn't believe I'd be on a plane for 8 whole hours in a single leg of my routing and yet, I was and yet, I've been countless times since as I've continued vacationing and working in Europe and the UK these past 16 years.

I remember the only time I flew to New Zealand and I couldn't believe I'd be on a plane for 13 whole hours in a single leg of my routing and yet, I was and though I've only been once, it was the easiest time zone change I've ever experienced - it's tomorrow minus 4 hours.  How civilized

Not like going to the UK or Europe where I gain 9 hours, eat like a starving pig at breakfast and as the workday begins at 8 am, local time, I stare at the room full of teachers whose lives I'm committed to changing and I wonder if they can hear my body clock as it shreiks "it's time for bed, it's eleven pm, it's actually past your bedtime, you're too old to be up this late, you must go to sleep, you must sleep NOW!"  Shut up, body clock. 

I've been behind before.  I've neglected accounting, I've let the weeds overtake the flowers, I've not vacuumed, I've skipped bleaching the whites, I went to Europe once with one pair of underwear and a box of mini pads.  I'm a scrimper, I'm a negotiator, I'm a sacrificer.  I know I can pull anything off and I can do it under extreme stress and I can do it well. 

But Mom died and it threw everything off. 

Just now, as in yesterday, as in earlier today, am I getting caught up on things that I let go in order to be with her.  And I was only there for 4 visits, and the visits were relatively short, certainly shorter than I'd have liked. 

But while I was with her, I wasn't tending to studio matters and things piled up.  I don't have any administrative help so every single accounting task, every single planning, organizing, arranging, corresponding, responding, itemizing, initiating type task went either completely untended or grossly under worked. 

In the past week, I've balanced over 20 checking account statements, I've compiled year end reports for my accountant who has been patiently waiting for them since early January and I've finally, with confidence and accuracy, been able to determine that I hardly have any money.  This, I suspected but wasn't completely positive about.  Now I'm completely positive.

It seems like Mom's been dead a long time, but it's really only been a few months.

It seems like I'm still 14 but I'm really almost 52.

It seems like, now that she's gone, nothing could possibly happen that would throw me off like this again.

It seems like Mom's been dead a long time, but it's really only been a few months. 

Only a few. 

I head to the UK on Wednesday for a week of teaching, I'll try to post next Monday night (they're 6 hours ahead of EST so you might not see it til your Tuesday morning, all you east coasters) but if I can't know that I'll get back to you as soon as I can after I return on April 1st. 

Love and Prayers From Here to There.

I hope you won't find this alarming but weeks and weeks go by without my sister Joann and I talking.  Or even emailing.  Or texting. 

This doesn't diminish our closeness, which may sound odd, but we were never based in frequency of contact; we've always been based in intensity of contact and with that as our fuel, we have enough in the tank to last several lifetimes. 

In many ways I think my sister's life, as it is mirroring Mom's, is just beginning.  Probably everyone who reads Mom's blog knows her well enough to know that when Mom married Daddy, the eloped to Baltimore and when they returned to Steubenville to announce the news, Daddy moved right in with Mom and her folks. 

There was no separateness. 

There was no "go off and begin your lives together."

There was no independence.

And for Mom and Daddy, that worked pretty darn well.

Pooge and Bill have never had anything nearly as, well, comingled as that unless you count the time Mom and Daddy moved in with them in their house on Coral Way down in the Pink Streets in South St. Pete.  I think that gave them a taste of what was to come, with all of us just being certain in the way that family members are, without having to discuss it, that Mom and Dad would eventually move in with Pooge and Bill when the time came that they needed that certain amount of help. 

Mom and Dad gave me a set of luggage for my 16th birthday; I was not the chosen one.  58th Avenue was mine, the neighborhood was mine and beyond that, they also gave me the world. 

Joann had luggage - strawberry red Samsonite - but they wouldn't let her actually go anywhere.  Go figure. 

But Pooge never wanted the world and I'm not sure she even wanted all of 58th. 

She has always been very very content in her own yard.  I'm content in someone else's yard. 

See the difference?

Mom lived with Pooge and Bill for the last couple of years of her life, and although that amount of time pales in comparison with the decades Mom and Dad lived with Mom's folks, there comes, after a time, an equivalency that is difficult to explain.

It's like Dog years, only different.

The effort, the worry, the angst, the tracking of pills, the following of doctor instructions, the managing of care; all of that dominated Pooge's life for years before the time came that Mom actually moved in with Pooge and Bill. 

Pooge said that it might well be easier to take care of Mom once she finally did move in, and I think that proved to be true.

Mom's life didn't really start to unfold before her with a road long enough and of her own design that she could finally be independent, her own person, until her parents, one by one, died.  Mom always said she didn't mourn her folks' passing, that she'd spent all the time and done all the deeds she felt she could, or anyone could. 

Her service to them was the very thing that freed her in the end.

So with Mom gone, Pooge is as busy as can be, figuring out what she'll do and how she'll do it.  She's too busy and so am I for us to spend a bunch of time on the phone.  I know when she needs me, she'll call.  She knows if I need her, I'll call.  We're on a "need to know" basis and it works great. 

In fact, that's exactly how we've run it for a really long time, since well before I opened the studio in 2001, but with Mom as a factor we talked more than our own needs dictated. 

Pooge always did a fantastic job of keeping me informed and helping me feel included in Mom's life and with her care once she became ill. 

Joann's "to do" list has always lengthy and very interesting and I'm so glad she's finally got time to pursue her own interests and that she doesn't have to worry about Mom anymore.  I'm not sure I can truly appreciate what a relief that must be.

Anyway, in addition to all that, tonight I'm also thinking how at some point after I posted to Mom's blog last week (I'm getting pretty regular with these Monday posts, have you noticed?) Pooge texted that she had some things that still smell like Mom and asked if I wanted her to send them.

Yes, I do.

So, BasicallyBetty.com keeps me connected to you, Mom's readers who she willed to me as her most treasured possession, but it also keep me connected to my sister.

I like that about the internet.  So did Mom.

It all just goes to show you, there is immense truth and honor in what our dear and deeply loved cousin Ruth Jean always said . . . "nobody said we all have to be alike."

Right on, 441, right on!

Love and Prayers From Here to There

I've been waiting, dreading, suspecting that any post now, Mom's final post would be pushed off the home page of her blog.  With last week's post, it happened. 

Now, when you come to the site, none of Mom's post will be on the first page that loads.  She posted hundreds of pieces on the site and they're all still there, they're just not on top anymore. 

They're not on top anymore because she's not on top anymore.

With every day, I become more aware of my loss and how much I miss her.  And, it's things like this that make Mom's death seem like she's slowly extracting herself from my life, from this world. 

It's not like she left all at once, you know what I mean?  It's like most of her left when she died, but a lot of her lingered. 

Her pink fluffy robe no longer smells like her.

I got her hats down at the studio yesterday and put on the big floppy purple and magenta one while I shoved my face into the whole box, sniffing for her scent. 

Nothing.

With the rolling forward of posts on BasicallyBetty.com, I've helped her leave. 

The day will come when she's all gone and although I can't do anything about it, I wish it weren't the case, I wish she were still here and I wish her posts were still up front. 

This isn't quite denial but it's denial's best friend.

Love and Prayers From Here to There.

At the end of last year, my 17 year man John Vatcher asked me to move forward with putting together a settlement of the last remaining comingled asset we held, our swank penthouse condo where we lived together for over 10 years and where he continued to live when I moved out and began living alone 4 years ago.

All through our many exciting years together – 17 of ‘em, hence his nickname - John and I were absolutely sure we would always be in love, we would always be close and we would always help each other, no matter what, and I truly believed that right up until he made me mad at the end of last year. 

I was mad about one thing and one thing only; I was mad about the timing of his request. 

We’d been living separately for almost 4 years and there were several times during those 4 years that I suggested we settle the condo but we never did because he always had a reason why it was good for both of us to leave it as it was and so that’s the way we left it. 

From the beginning of my relationship with John, he dearly loved Mom – what’s not to love? - and in between in person visits they stayed in touch with each other by phone and online. 

In August when the Rays and their record were becoming credible and Mom had just received her cancer diagnosis, John told the Big Three (Mom, Pooge & I) that we were sworn to secrecy about it – his family, especially his father, must never know - but that in honor of Mom he was officially rooting for the Rays instead of his beloved Red Sox.

This was huge.

It was perhaps the highest demonstration of love possible for John. 

The only time he’s seen his father cry was during that  famous and horrible Bill Buckner play of many years ago and John himself dropped his head on the bar and sobbed, right there in Fox Sports Bar in downtown Seattle, when the Red Sox came back to take the Series in 2005.  His brother met his future wife at a Red Sox game and the proposal took place in an empty Fenway Park, right there at home plate. 

His family is a Red Sox family. 

As Mom’s cancer advanced last summer, John and Mom talked about it and they told each other how much they loved each other, she always told him to take care of me and he promised to do just that.  Not only was he sweet and caring with Mom but he’s also been a rock for me.

Everything was as expected between John and I until mid-October.

Background:  I’d found a girlfriend for John in July of 2007 and at first she seemed fine with the fact that he and I are still really close but over time, that changed and as their relationship advanced toward the end of last year, he said it was becoming important for him to cash me out of the condo so he could be the sole owner of it; that way, when she moved in with him she’d feel like she was moving into his place, not our place. 

The only problem with that was when John needed me to get the settlement together I was busy with Mom. 

Mom was dying and I was trying to help her die and that takes a lot of time, a lot of emotion, a lot of work. 

I told John that I was focused on being with Mom and I didn’t want to take time away from that to work on the settlement.  I assured him that other things in my life, other really important things, were going untended; I had to present at a huge educational conference starting November 3^rd and I wasn’t prepared, I had a booth at a trade show that same week and I didn’t have materials for the booth. 

I explained that it wasn’t just his request for me to prepare a settlement that I was neglecting, I was behind in everything, everything other than Mom.  I was current with Mom.

I told him that her condition was worsening so dramatically that there was no way she would live past Thanksgiving.  I promised him that we’d be settled out on the condo before the end of the year, for sure.

He said “Bec, there won’t ever be a good time.” 

I said “But I want to focus on Mom.”

He said “It will always be something.”

I said “But it will only be THIS once, she’s only going to die once and she’s dying now.”

He was unconvinced and with that, I was done.

I was done with him. 

While in North Carolina and instead of focusing on Mom or helping Joann, I spent many hours on the phone and online to find an appraiser who specializes in the type of penthouse construction we have (rare) and I ordered the appraisals (one for March 2005 which is when I moved out and one for October 2008 which is the time of the settlement) and when I received the report I forwarded copies to John.

He said “This is a bad time for me, my company is struggling.”

I said . . .  Well, you can imagine what I said. 

Meantime, as the Rays were working their way through the playoffs and as they were beating those evil Boston Red Sox, Mom was getting worse and worse.  When I talked with John during the Rays Sox series, he told me he was rooting for the Red Sox.  What happened to rooting for the Rays in mom’s honor?   

I could have killed him.  Twice.

Done.  I was done.

But he wasn’t. 

He would email me and ask how Mom was and I told him he no longer had a right to know anything about us.  I assured him that I would let him know when she died and until then, to remember that any kindness he could have shown Mom or me was negated by his insistence that I move ahead with the settlement. 

The last day I saw Mom, she asked me to make up with John. 

I said there was absolutely no way I would make up with John because he didn’t care about her and he didn’t care about me and that if he did, he would not have had me go to the work of moving the condo settlement forward when I wanted and needed to be doing more with and for her.   She was well aware of how long it took me to find an appraiser and I wasn’t going to let her forget that about him. 

And her words were . . . well, she didn’t say anything.  But she gave me a look and the look she gave me was one of acceptance, satisfaction and certainty. 

At the time, I thought she was certain that I would be okay and I would do it without John. 

Mom and I were in love with each other.  John and I were not.

So, we all know Mom died at the end of October.  I’m doing my I told you so dance as I write this, because I was most certainly right that my settlement with John happened no sooner as a result of him pushing me to work on it while Mom was still alive; I’ve still not given him the Quit Claim Deed but he did cash me out just before Christmas. 

But, the really great part about this story is that John came to his senses.  He not only broke up with his girlfriend but he told me how sorry he was for having behaved poorly and he asked me to forgive him. 

And of course I did. And I love him even more than ever. 

And that’s what Mom knew would happen. 

Mom’s always know about stuff like that and as I’ve thought about that look Mom gave me when I spoke the truth about John’s temporary insanity (that’s what it was) I’ve realized that she knew he and I would recover.  Her certainty, acceptance and satisfaction had to do with her already knowing he’d be sorry, her already knowing I’d forgive him and her already knowing we’d be fine.  And that we’d be fine without her.

So, John is happily single, he’s busy working on perfecting his gnocchi recipe and during my recent move he’s been spending a lot of time at my place getting me settled into my new home. 

He was over yesterday putting up shelves and he told me about April 6^th.

April 6^th is Opening Day for the Red Sox.

They open at Fenway.

They play the Rays.

Love and Prayers From Here to There