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Everything Started 6/2/2019 – Last Post Today
I started this blog on 5/31/19 with the following post:
Everything Starts 6/2: We spent the day at Stanford for our last meeting with Bernie’s doctor before the stem cell transplant process begins. This Sunday we will be heading down there and staying over for 3 nights. Bernie will be getting chemo to suppress his bone marrow and also to stimulate his stem cells to come out into his bloodstream. He will be at risk for infection and has to take special precautions (hepa mask and dietary restrictions) until the middle of June when they harvest his stem cells in readiness for the transplant in July.
Back in 2019 when Bernie first got sick, I needed a way to keep our friends and family up to date on Bernie’s medical condition and treatment. Bernie was an immensely private person and so I created a password protected blog. I did my best to keep it as upbeat and positive so people wouldn’t worry. An unexpected benefit of writing almost daily was that it helped me to process my own experience and also helped to keep both of us positive and hopeful.
The three-plus years of Bernie’s remission following his transplant – July 2019-Dec. 2022 was a wonderful time together that I will always treasure. His second round of treatment was less successful as his body was less able to tolerate treatment so 2023 was a tough year for both of us and obviously ended rather catastrophically for me. Sorry to be so honest but that’s the way it was. One bright spot was my little pup Chica, that I adopted on Dec. 19th.
After Bernie passed away, I made this blog public and wrote about my grief which was helpful to me, and I hope others. I have been a writer all my life – I still have my first diary that I started in 1968. It’s how I process my feelings and how I communicate the best. I have so appreciated hearing from my readers, you all have been incredibly kind. I still write almost every day, not here but in some form or another.
I’m living on my own in Nevada City, in a very pretty place, but far from the Bay Area and the community that Bernie and I built over our 35 years together. As much as I love writing here, I find the one-way nature of it less helpful than before because it prevents me from hearing from YOU. This will be my last entry here but hopefully not my last communication with you, my friends and family.
On this last day of 2024, as I embark on my second year of my different life, I would like to resume communications via two-way email, text, call. Please let me know how you are doing, share your life, tell me about your adventures or your challenges. Thank you, friends and family, for being here over the last five years. Much love to all.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Reentering the World
I had a wonderful Thanksgiving with Bernie’s family back in Braintree, Mass. I refer to them as “Bernie’s family” as a way of explanation, but they are truly my family too.
To mark the one-year anniversary of Bernie’s passing. Julie, Jim, Brian, Kevin, Lauren and Kevin and I attended Mass at St. Clare church where Bernie grew up. Mass Intentions were dedicated to Bernie, as well as his parents and to Glenna, Kevin’s late wife. Being with the people that Bernie loved most, in the place where he grew up, was the best possible way to acknowledge the day.
Chica and I are still living in our cozy digs in Nevada City. I’ve been looking at homes to buy in Napa and even made an offer. That offer fell through and in retrospect, that was the best possible thing. I’m not feeling stressed or pressured to buy another house. I like where I’m living, and I trust that the right house will present itself at the right time.
Napa is where I want to be, and I embrace the saying from AA, “Let go and let God.” Speaking of, I just celebrated 37 years of sobriety on 11/27 which I acknowledged by attending Lady A, my home group in Oakland. The lengths of sobriety ranged from one day to thirty-eight years and the joy and hope in the room was palpable.
I’ve recently been made aware of two very close friends who have been diagnosed with serious illness. They have the support and love of friends and family, myself included, which I know first-hand is as important and crucial as chemo.
Having passed the one-year marker of losing Bernie, I feel a slight lifting of my grief, a new lightness. In the beginning, anything that triggered a memory would make me cry. Now, more often than not, seeing something that brings Bernie to mind makes me smile. I will still miss him every single day of my life, and I wouldn’t change anything about having known him and loved him.
My daily reading from yesterday did well at capturing where I am now in my journey.
Piece by piece, I reenter the world. A new phase. A new body, a new voice. Birds console me by flying, trees by growing, dogs by the warm patch they leave on the sofa. Unknown people merely by performing their motions. It’s like a slow recovery from a sickness, this recovery of one’s self.
-by Toby Talbot from Healing After Loss by Martha Whitmore Hickman
Poetry and Puppies
I attended an on-line Memorial Service put on by Kaiser Hospice last week. They have been wonderful in that I continue to receive materials in the mail and invitations to their ongoing online and in person grief groups. I sent in a photo of Bernie to be included in the slideshow and also mentioned my older sister Kathy who passed away on Sept. 26th. Over fifty people attended.
The service consisted of music, photos, sharing, and poetry. I was especially touched by a poem by Mary Oliver. She has always been my favorite poet. I found out today that she wrote it after the death of her longtime partner Molly Malone Cook which explains why I connected to it so much.
“Heavy” by Mary Oliver
That time
I thought I could not
go any closer to grief
without dying
I went closer,
and I did not die.
Surely God
had his hand in this,
as well as friends.
Still, I was bent,
and my laughter,
as the poet said,
was nowhere to be found.
Then said my friend Daniel,
(brave even among lions),
“It’s not the weight you carry
but how you carry it –
books, bricks, grief –
it’s all in the way
you embrace it, balance it, carry it
when you cannot, and would not,
put it down.”
So I went practicing.
Have you noticed?
Have you heard
the laughter
that comes, now and again,
out of my startled mouth?
How I linger
to admire, admire, admire
the things of this world
that are kind, and maybe
also troubled –
roses in the wind,
the sea geese on the steep waves,
a love
to which there is no reply?
— “Heavy” by Mary Oliver from Thirst.
I’m settling in well in Nevada City. My host Julie left today for six months in Mexico. It was wonderful to spend time with her and she made sure I met all the neighbors and her friends, so I already have some new connections here. I’ve seen a few houses in Napa, but it seems that things are slowing down a bit which makes sense during the holidays. In the meantime, I’m glad I have a peaceful, beautiful place to stay. I winterized the cabin in Graniteville last Tuesday – drained the pipes, etc. and it snowed on Thursday so I timed that well.
Hoping that tomorrow, election day, brings good news. Like myself, the entire nation is on edge. I will go outside and marvel at the trees, all awash in Fall colors, and listen to the creek to ease the uneasiness. Gratitude is a good antidote to anxiety, and I am indeed grateful for the beauty of nature, the power of poetry and the people and puppies in my life.
Soft Landing
My house in Oakland is sold! It was the smoothest house sale ever. The new owners saw it on the first open-house weekend (9/28-29), and made an offer on “offer” day (10/8). I accepted it the same day from Graniteville (thank you Docusign). Escrow started the next day, I signed papers a week later and escrow closed this past Thursday 10/24. Wow, amazing. I won’t go into details about the offer but let’s just say it was an offer I couldn’t refuse and I think they will make wonderful neighbors, which was very important to me.
I have to give a shoutout to my wonderful realtor Liat Bostick from the Grubb Co.. If anyone in Oakland is considering selling or buying a house, you can’t go wrong. I wrote her a five start review to show my appreciation.
One of my wonderful neighbors and friends in Graniteville, Julie, offered to let me rent an apartment that is attached to her home in Nevada City. Bernie and I were very close with both Julie and her husband Rusty, who passed away a little over two years ago. Bernie and I stayed in the apartment and stored our jeep for many years in their garage. Julie leaves for her place in La Manzanilla, Mexico next week. Bernie and I also visited Julie and Rusty in Mexico twice and had a wonderful time.
I closed up the cabin in Graniteville last Monday so am settling in, and it’s been wonderful and restful so far. Not to mention having a washer and dryer and a quick trip to the store. I’m surrounded by pine trees, a beautiful garden and steps down to the creek. Chica and I walked into downtown Nevada City yesterday and I keep having to tell myself I’m actually living here now! It’s a wonderful transition between Graniteville and my next more permanent home, which I’m hoping will be in Napa. Julie has been cooking me delicious dinners and introducing me to her friends and neighbors. I couldn’t have landed in a better place.
Beginnings and Endings
I’m happy to report that interest in my Oakland house is high! I met with the realtor on Sunday after the open house was supposed to be over and she had to turn people away. Monday was the day for realtors and she said she wasn’t sure if there would be a lot, but 22 realtors showed up! And there have been 2-3 showing every day since. My realtor made all this happen while I was hanging out in Graniteville. Offer day is next Tuesday so cross your fingers. Here’s the fancy slide show about my house.
https://www.7020pasorobles.com
I drove down to Oakland to attend my friend Sara’s annual Ladies Tea, but also was able to have breakfast, lunch and dinner with various friends and neighbors. My neighbors Susan and Bill let me stay at their place. It was so wonderful to connect with all of them! Chica and I were also able to get to our respective doctors for checkups. We were both given clean bills of health, and I got my COVID/Flu shots at Kaiser. Chica’s official adult weight is 6 lbs but she did make it clear that she does not like getting her nails clipped. Chica is now double the size when I first got her last December.
On a sad note, I need to report the passing of my oldest sister Kathleen Claire Hickey Casas on Thursday, September 26th in Actopan, Mexico. I had last spoken to her via WhatsApp chat over Labor Day and she seemed fine but she has not been in the best of health over the past few years. Official cause of death was a heart attack. She is predeceased by two years by her husband Otulio. Otulio’s family included Shannon and me via video at her wake and funeral. Rest in peace Kathe, I will miss you.
The Great Divide
It’s been a long time between posts. Life has moved on with ups and downs and lots of changes. The biggest change is that since August 13th I’ve been living in Graniteville while my house in Oakland gets prepped for sale. There isn’t a single reason that I decided to move, a lot of little things came together with the ultimate goal of being out of the house before the holidays – for both practical and emotional reasons. There is something about the house in Oakland that screams out, “Bernie isn’t here”. I have spoken to some other women in my situation and it’s not an uncommon sentiment. For practical purposes, the Oakland house is difficult to navigate, not to mention to insure, so moving “home” to Napa feels like the right move.
Graniteville has not been without its challenges. I had a yellow jacket infestation which was remedied when I persuaded an exterminator to make the drive. He thought he was close when he got to Nevada City, so I had to give him the bad news that he had another hour and a dirt road to go. When I answered the door, he said simply, “You better give me a big tip!”, which I did! I also had to replace the battery on my new car and get a water leak fixed under the house. Luckily the plumber lives on the ridge. Every challenge I am able to handle on my own gives me a little spark of hope that I’m going to be okay.
I enjoy the solitude and simplicity of being in Graniteville. Chica and I have a nice routine that changes with the weather and amount of sunlight. I was happy to welcome guests – Pat and Sara, friends from Oakland, over Labor Day, and Ruth and Chris, second cousins from Washington state, this past weekend. Last Friday the three of us (plus Chica) made the trip up Hwy 49 along the Yuba River to Downieville, had a lovely lunch, went through Sierra City and took 89 back through the Sierra Valley to Truckee. We came back to Graniteville through Washington. I’d forgotten how pretty that drive could be, and it was fun to show the area to Ruth and Chris, who were enthusiastic first-time visitors.
What spurned me to write today was one of my readings. Being without Bernie feels like I stepped out of one world into a new one. When I was in Oakland, I had an unsettling feeling of watching all my friend’s world stay the same while I was watching from afar and I didn’t quite fit in either place. This is the reading that put that in perspective.
But I am no more I, nor is my house now my house. – Federico Garcia Lorca
The death of a loved one shifts the whole foundation of our life. Nothing is as it was. Even what was most familiar seems in a strange way unfamiliar. It is as though we had to learn a new language, a new way of seeing. Even the face in the mirror sometimes seems the face of a stranger.
What are we to make of this? Just that we truly have, in a way, entered a new country. Though the terrain looks much the same and many of the people are the same people, there is a different light over everything. – From Healing After Loss by Martha Whitemore Hicknan
I found this explanation comforting. I like the idea of everything just being cast in a new light. I still belong, the world just has a slightly different glow. I’m grateful for this time at the cabin to adjust to my new world. I was so busy in Oakland that there wasn’t much opportunity to reflect. After some weeks at the cabin, I know now that I needed some time alone. This time to reflect has also made me realize how lucky I am for all the people who have reached out and continue to stay connected. I’m blessed to have so many wonderful people, friends and family, in my life. Time alone is good but staying connected sustains me.
One of my favorite songs is Across the Great Divide, by Kate Wolf. I remember sitting in the sun in the front yard in Graniteville while Bernie and Jess (from the band) were playing guitars on the porch, working out the beautiful harmonies of that song. I thought to myself, “I will always remember this moment.” Later, whenever they sang it together, it brought that moment to mind. I have been afraid to hear it again, but this morning I played it, tears streaming, but also grateful for the beautiful music and the memory of that day.
I didn’t realize until today that the song would one day take on even more meaning. Despite the great divide between us, I am sustained by the memories of our life together and the great love that we shared.
He’s gone away in yesterday
And I find myself on the mountainside
Where the rivers change direction
Across the great divide – Kate Wolf
Something Old and Something New
My dear friends from the Shepherd Canyon Band came to Graniteville for their annual 4th of July visit. Last year Bernie was in the hospital and insisted that we carry on without him, so it seemed only right that they joined me again this year. They filled the house with music and delighted the town with their singing and playing. On Sunday morning, they eagerly and enthusiastically ate my buttermilk pancakes which thrilled me to no end since I’ve been making pancakes for my family since I was a kid.
One highlight at the picnic was the dedication of a flagpole at the School House with a plaque honoring Captain Bernie Bishop and Chief Paul Stone for their service to the Graniteville Volunteer Fire Company. I was truly touched, and I can’t think of a better way to remember Bernie and Paul for their special friendship and their service to the people of Graniteville.
The big news in Oakland is that I’ve decided to put my house on the market with plans to move back to Napa. I say “move back” because I consider it my hometown. I still have many friends there that I’ve known since I moved there in 1970. Bernie and I had been talking already about making Napa our next “home”, so it seems like the right place and the right time to go. Our family moved to California in 1964 so I’ve officially lived here now for 60 years.
The surprising thing about selling your house these days is that it appears you have to move out before you can sell. Once I’m out, they paint, change carpets, stage it with furniture etc., a process that will take most of September. I plan to move out in August and live in Graniteville. Once it sells, I can start looking for a new place. Not to trivialize a tragedy but it reminds me a little of the Donner party – I need to get out before it snows! As the crow flies, Graniteville isn’t too far from where they spent the winter.
I don’t know yet when or where I’ll live in Napa, but I have faith that it will all work out for the best. I’m also grateful that Graniteville holds so many wonderful memories of Bernie’s and my life together and I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the summer in the place that he loved so much. I still miss him every day, but I don’t land on the pain of it as often or stay there as long. Grief is not linear, so I still have some bad days, but I’m starting to smile more when I think of him and I’m grateful for the wonderful life we had together.
Puppies and Peonies
I just spent my longest stint in Graniteville so far this year and it was peaceful and rejuvenating. It took a few days to detox from city life and relax into the quiet serenity that came from being in the mountains. Chica and I settled into our daily routine during one of my favorite times of year. Everything was green and vibrant – the long days and bright sun served to remind me that summer was on the way. It’s harder to remember that it’s summer in the Bay Area. That’s why they call it May gray and June gloom. There was nothing gray or gloomy in Graniteville!
With the help of a wonderful neighbor, additional batteries and a new controller box for the Solar was installed that I can now access inside the house. I used to have to go down into the basement. The even bigger news is that I now have Starlink internet so I can actually stream. It’s not just for watching British mystery shows, it also allows me to watch “how to” videos on YouTube. The HughesNet satellite I used for the last twelve years was terribly slow. Downloads and streaming were impossible. When I told my neighbors that I too had finally cancelled HughesNet, they cheered. I think I was the last one in town to get Starlink. For my geeky friends (Steve), the latency is 60ms vs 1000ms which explains it.
I went out one day to start up the Tundra truck and the door wouldn’t open with the remote. I swapped out the battery with the battery in the meat thermometer to make sure it wasn’t the battery (it wasn’t). Then I pulled out my recently purchased portable battery charger – incredibly small and compact. I watched a YouTube video on how to use it correctly and was able to jump start the truck in less than two minutes. Quite a thrill to have the right equipment and be able to get it started so quickly. I also learned that the alternator takes 30 minutes to charge a typical battery (what would we do without Google?) so Chica and I took a drive up to Bowman Lake. All in all, a satisfying learning experience for sure.
Bernie and I loved to sit in our lawn chairs in the morning, sip coffee and look at the garden. I felt him there very strongly, in a comforting way rather than in the more bereft way I feel about him not being in our Oakland house. When my neighbor was installing the new charge controller for the solar, I said that I wished Bernie were there to see it. He said without hesitating, “Well, he can see it because this was his favorite place in the world so he’s here.” It was such a sweet and comforting thing for him to say and I realized that it was true.
My Sunny Girl
I lost my sweet Sunny girl on Wed., May 22nd. I posted on Facebook so I know most of my readers already know but I wanted to write a little more in detail about my sweet pup as a tribute to her and our life together.
I adopted Sunny on 1/17/2010 from Furry Friends Rescue. They had her birthdate listed as 1/7/2009 and they were pretty accurate on her age. She was still a pup but full grown. At that time, my dog Angus was 14. I brought both of them to my parents’ place at the Meadows in Napa so my mom got to meet her too. Angus was not doing too well but I wanted to get him to Graniteville one more time. Sunny’s first visit to Graniteville was Angus’ last. I lost him on 5/13/2010. I lost my mom on 6/6/2010.
Bernie and I used to remark about how you could always tell it was Sunny’s first day in Graniteville. She would get so excited and suffused with energy each and every time we brought her.
She knew every trail by heart and would wait always for me at the same exact spot to see which way I planned to go. If I couldn’t find her, I’d know to find her in Norma Stone’s kitchen where she always got a treat. She also loved the Stone’s dog, Beggs, and the three of us made many trips to the swimming hole and on bike rides up Rattlesnake Road.
On her last visit in early May, that “first day in Graniteville” energy came back. We had one, last wonderful hike on the “loop” and I even had her off leash which I hadn’t done in a while because of her deafness. She chomped on snow and napped in the grass. When I went to the basement, she stood at the top of the stairs and waited for her treat, something I taught her to keep her from following me down every time.
This past Monday I loaded up the car and put her in her crate, hoping to take her to Graniteville for what I thought was her last time. Just past Berkeley, she started to cry and whine in what sounded like pain. She’d never done that before. I turned around and brought her home. I had already spoken to the vet about the inevitability of Sunny’s world getting smaller to the point where her quality of life was suffering, and she sent me a list of in-home euthanasia services. I contacted one and made an appointment for Wed.
Tuesday was Sunny’s and my last full day together and I made the most of it. She was able to complete our usual morning walk. Part of her cognitive decline that has gone on for more than a year is that she has been obsessively focused on food, especially between 4-7pm. To the point where she would tear up the garbage and cardboard boxes left on the ground, behaviors she never showed before. Her anxiety was obvious from her panting and circling. I found out from the vet and others that this can happen to older dogs.
But on this, her last day, she got lots of cuddles and kisses and all the treats her heart desired. I opened bags of them and emptied them and she gobbled them all up. We stayed together all day, her mostly snoozing right by my side. I took her outside, just the two of us, for our usual 2pm walk. She took a few steps and looked up at me as if to say, “Not today.” It broke my heart, but I took her back.
That night, after her regular dinner, she got a full New York Steak and then a raw bone filled with marrow. She ate and ate and ate, tail wagging. At bedtime we did our usual ritual where she ran into her crate and got a piece of kibble, and then to her bed in the corner of the office where she laid down and I gave her a handful of kibble. I took off her collar and she got more hugs and kisses. She always slept in the office but that night, her last with me, she came into my room and curled up on the rug at the foot of my bed. I heard her stir in the middle of the night and was so glad she stayed close.
The next morning, Wed., we did our usual morning walk. When we got back, at the bottom of the driveway, she stopped and looked up at me. Joy of joys, I could tell she wanted to play the game that we had done for many years, but we hadn’t done for a while. I unclipped her leash and she waited. I said, “GO!” and she took off like the young dog she once was, racing up the driveway, over the breezeway and up the front door where she met me, wagging her tail with and smiling her doggy grin. I’m writing this through tears, remembering that last time.
Her last moments were peaceful, laying in her bed in the office, eating a few last bites of New York steak. Lots more hugs and kisses and then freedom from pain. It was very peaceful.
Driving up to Graniteville where I am now was hard, the first time without Sunny. I kept looking in the rear view mirror for her crate, but it wasn’t there. Just like with Bernie, all my “firsts” with Sunny are going to be hard. Fifteen years is a good, long life for a dog and Sunny had a good, long life.
This morning, I went down to the basement. Coming up the stairs, I looked up and Chica was standing there, licking her lips and waiting for me. On her one and only trip with Sunny, she learned what I trained Sunny to do. Thank you, Sunny. Good dog.
