Four years and counting

light landscape sky sunset

Photo by Pixabay on

It’s been four years since I said goodbye to my late-hubby, Otto Tune. I held his hand and felt him go into the great beyond.

What can I say? I miss him every day, every hour, and every minute.


Another year

Writing Perchance to Dream today Today is my late-husband’s birthday. He would have been 71.

So today I am going to a Thai restaurant a few miles from my house. It was his favorite type of food.

Then I will remember the jokes and the good times. Maybe I will take a drive out into the country– for a few hours. It used to be our favorite activity.

There are two times of the year that I feel closer to him– his birthday and his death date.

RIP Otto Tune.

State of the Writer

Writing Perchance to Dream todayIt is that time again to talk about what I have been doing and what I haven’t been doing this last year as a writer.

As you know by now, I lost the love of my life, Otto Tune, to cancer on September 19, 2014. Leading up to his death, I was very concerned about his medical treatment and caring for him. He went from a strong stout man like you see in the picture to a frail old man in only a few weeks.
As I have been told many times and as I am learning, the shock and pain never leaves, just lessens as I start to remember the many years I had with him, instead of the last few weeks. As one widow said to me, “at least his illness and death were quick. You don’t have to remember years and years of pain.”

It doesn’t lessen the pain, but at least he didn’t suffer as much as others. I console myself with this.

In May I finished a Green Knight Terraforming Short Story– When I go back, I will use my late-hubby as a template. He would have been a great troubleshooter for some nebulous interplanetary council. He was also mischievous and was very good at getting justice through unconventional means. I will use that. If I told these stories as truth, you wouldn’t believe me. He was very good at getting me to laugh at my foibles and especially at my upbringing.

When I would start a routine beaten into my head by my parents, he would laugh and say “your family puts the fun in dysfunctional.” It would make me laugh and divert me from some gloomy horror type thinking. Foxy does her best to divert me as well.

I started on Xandra Peel this month, but I was caught in some VA paperwork. I have already done more than a ream of paper for them including the last ten years worth of medical records. This month I ended up getting another ream’s worth of paper. I need to do more, but I needed a rest from it. When I went back to writing the A/C died. So I have been dealing with triple digits-see last post.

My only excuse is that I have scheduled in other stories to finish for the next three months. I have Moon Curser, Dark Moon, and more GKTC stories to work on. Xandra Peel will be put away for awhile and then I’ll start on her story again.

So this has been the year for interruptions to my writings. The interruptions have been the most emotional pain that I have ever felt. Even the death of my great-grandmother, who I was close to, did not hit me with this much force.

My nerves are raw and every setback is even harder to bear than the last. Tomorrow I will start writing again– Today is labwork, and errands. The labwork is for my chronic illnesses. Tomorrow– Tomorrow–

Knocking on Heaven’s Door

Last night I dreamed.

I am a dreamer. I have dreamed various scenes of my own life months before they happened. I do know that my dreams were trying to prepare me for my late-hubby’s death. As if I could have been prepared for losing my best friend and mate.

The only time I quit dreaming was when my life was in the balance in 2003. I didn’t dream for months before I ended up in the hospital.

So last night I dreamed.

This time he wasn’t there. He has been in my dreams or in my peripheral dreams since I met him in 1988. I even dreamed of him long before I met him at the age of sixteen. In my dreams we were having adventures. This time, this dream, I was with long-time friends. We were shooting, laughing, talking, and eating. This time I didn’t look around for him.

I woke up knowing that eventually, my life would go on without him. I cried.

Yesterday, I went to the Veteran’s Memorial Cemetery in Boulder City, Nevada. His stone had finally been carved. His message was there – “I’ll Rest When I’m Dead.”

Rest in Peace, Otto. You have earned it.