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Notes

Written 26 August 2018 in Payne County, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Luctus Herbarium” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)


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Notes

Written 7 February 2020 in Payne County, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Making Circles in Darkness” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)


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The Rain

I’m still waiting outside for rain,
hoping for sudden downpours from cloudless skies.
I’m wondering if she’ll join me when the first drops
start to fall and the birds fall silent.
She’s been delayed, I’ve told myself again,
or the rain hasn’t been enough.
It has never been enough
I’ve summoned more and more rain,
for over a year I’ve coaxed it from the air,
the ground sometimes swelling, saturated and marshy.

Brush Creek has filled to overflowing,
washing out parts of the road and clearing out
the debris of our distractions.
It has not been enough.
The Cimarron & Arkansas Rivers have been flooded,
swallowing homes and memories,
lives lost and inconvenienced.
Still she has not arrived.
I continue my incantations, calling for more clouds,
more rain — great hurricanes that try to find me,
creeping along the coasts, tied to the oceans.
Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, The Bahamas, Puerto Rico,
they may all need to be sacrificed in my efforts,
and it will be worth the loss because I will
no longer feel like I am alone.
I am listening for those first signs, the drips on the tin roof
and I am ready to throw open the windows,
clench my fists, and try to push my dreams into reality.
I know she will join me if I keep trying,
and we will sit together on the covered porch,
resuming what should still be.

Notes

Written 5 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “The Rain” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)

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Cercis canadensis

When we had tried
putting ourselves together again
we’d used the wrong parts,
made effigies of ourselves
with the piles of distorted junk,
left behind scraps of a once-full life.
We went through the motions of people
spoke like them, practicing their accents,
but did not understand our own words.
We got the phrases wrong,
the tones, the memories.
Periodically, we’d erupt into full color
flowers growing from every part
and our days seemed alive with joy.
But we would catch ourselves lost in time,
eyes fixed on a long-abandoned walker,
a long-absent bed,
a long-neglected garden,
at the things we find so important now
and the flowers would fall from our bodies.
I gave up on trying to find the parts
of myself I missed most,
stopped looking for who I had been before. I’ve been more comfortable with discomfort,
waiting for others to finally leave the safety
of their beds, the safety of their tears.
And we’ve started to share ourselves again,
imagining Spring, redbuds flushed fuchsia,
grief removed from our shoulders,
sadness washed from our faces
by the showers of April and storms of May.
We will remember how to be happy
and how to be sad and how to be,
and we’ll see the long-forgotten remnants
and we will understand who we are.

Notes

Written 19 April 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma. Rewritten 5 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Cercis canadensis” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)

 

Cercis canadensis

When we had tried
putting ourselves together again
we’d used the wrong parts,
made effigies of ourselves
with the piles of distorted junk,
left behind scraps of a once-full life.
We went through the motions of people
spoke like them, practicing their accents,
but did not understand our own words.
We got the phrases wrong,
the tones, the memories.
Periodically, we’d erupt into full color
flowers growing from every part
and our days seemed alive with joy.
But we would catch ourselves lost in time,
eyes fixed on a long-abandoned walker,
a long-absent bed,
a long-neglected garden,
at the things we find so important now
and the flowers would fall from our bodies.
I gave up on trying to find the parts
of myself I missed most,
stopped looking for who I had been before.
I’ve been more comfortable with discomfort,
waiting for others to finally leave the safety
of their beds, the safety of their tears.
And we’ve started to share ourselves again,
imagining Spring, redbuds flushed fuchsia,
grief removed from our shoulders,
sadness washed from our faces
by the showers of April and storms of May.
We will remember how to be happy
and how to be sad and how to be,
and we’ll see the long-forgotten remnants
and we will understand who we are.

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This has been a trying week.  I’ve really felt like I’ve been stuck in slow motion while everything speeds by around me.  I’m tired; I’ve spent the majority of time in bed this week.  I’m not ready for real life, but it keeps popping up because it doesn’t seem to care if I’m ready or not.  Mom wanted me to be successful.  I think she believed I could be even more than I did, so when I have been awake this week I’ve been charging ahead with my blog and social media.  I have a lot of plans for the blog, for my work, and for my home.  I don’t want to stop planning my life, even if I do find everything rather pointless right now.

I hope this upcoming week is a little better.  I have some projects that should prove therapeutic, and should I get to them I will discuss it in next week’s review.  I’m trying to not put too much pressure on myself, so I easily could have another week of sleeping.  This is hard.  It’s actually much harder than I expected, and I expected it to be rough.  I need time.  I need a lot of time, and I hope I don’t bore anyone by taking my time.

Posts this week:

This week saw the revival of the Oklahoma Family Tumblr started by Brent 5 years ago.  Check it out!

Check out my Instagram posts as well.

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A few weeks ago, I was listening to music after spending the night helping my mom in and out of bed as she recovered from a collapsed lung.  I hadn’t left her house yet, and she came into the living room to join me.  We didn’t talk; we just sat and listened to the music as the sun came up over the trees and filled the living room with light.  It was a peaceful moment.  We talked briefly after a while, and then I went home to sleep before coming back the next night.  She stayed in the living room for the morning, watching TV and visiting with my dad.  If I had known then that it was the last time I would spend time with her in her living room, I would have stayed all day.

My days are like that right now.  Everything is about Mom.  The roses she and I ordered came in yesterday, a week and a half after she passed.  On her desk sit the art project she was working on, four 6×6 canvases featuring her with her grandkids.  On her doors hang the wreaths she had ordered for summer; they arrived the week she went to the ER, one being only taken out of its box when we were getting the house ready for visitors.  I’ve caught family members talking about the pain she was in, which she was.  I’ve heard them hint at how she seemed to have lost some of her spirit, which she had.  But I don’t want anyone to think for a moment that she had ever given up on living.  Nobody loved life more than she did.

Mom’s life had become about pain and struggling through the many surgeries she had over the past ten years.  I’ve lost count; she had lost count.  But never did a surgery keep her down.  She fought through it because she did not want to be an ‘old person’ and never meant to end up spending so much of her life in bed recovering.  These recoveries were temporary, and she spent her time either getting ready to fight after a surgery or working on getting back to her life.  Being stuck in bed made her feel left out at times, and it was frustrating for her to not be able to join her sister, friends, and other family on various outings and vacations.  She wished she could go to church every Sunday, as her church family was so much a part of who she had always been.  She wanted to be healthy enough to stay with her granddaughters more often, but did not have the ability lately.  But most people didn’t know any of these feelings.  Mom did not complain about her plight to people.  She didn’t want others to ever feel bad for enjoying their own lives, even if she couldn’t be a part of it.

ER visits had become so routine, so when she was rushed to the hospital on May 18 it didn’t even phase me.  I thought to myself that I hoped she stayed through the weekend; the stays in the hospital were often good for her and gave me peace of mind that someone was checking her out.  I also felt relieved that I would get a little extra sleep over the weekend.  Then they called me from the hospital to say she was being transferred to Oklahoma City.  Dad didn’t seem to remember what the doctors had told him, and Mom and I shouted at one another through his speaker.  She told me it was her colon and they needed to do surgery.  I have no idea what I said to her, but it was definitely not the right thing.  There is no way it could have been.  It was the last time we would talk to one another.  How could I have known, and what words would we have used.  She was aware the next day as she slipped from up, and could nod/shake her head.  I was able to talk to her then, but it wasn’t a conversation.

This doesn’t feel real.  I’ve passed the part when I think I might finally wake up, but now I keep thinking she will come home from a trip she’s been on.  But at the same time, I’m empty.  My whole world has been consumed by this growing emptiness, and mostly life seems pointless.  It’s raw of course, but it is hard to see what meaning I’ll be able to find in life.

I’m babbling.

I’ve been spending a lot of time on my front porch, listening to birds in the morning and watching fireflies in the evenings.  The birds don’t seem to know that the color has gone from the world.  The fireflies still light up the night, even though life is so fleeting.  I’m not sure what to think about it all, or even if I’m thinking about anything at all.  Every time I start slipping into despair, it starts to rain and I can’t help but find joy in storms.  Joy seems inappropriate.  I have moments when I laugh or smile and think to myself that I’m being disrespectful.  That’s such a backward thought.  Mom loved life, saw the good it it always, and wouldn’t want anyone to despair.

This was not a part of my plan.  I never imagined I would lose my mom in my 30s;  it feels stupid.  I was ready to watch movies with her, to laugh with her, and to enjoy the nature around us with her well into my 60s.  I deserved that.  She deserved that.  And now I have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.

Mom’s final moments were spent surrounded by family.  She understood what was happening, and knew she was not going to make it.  It was so sudden, so the fact that everyone could get there was a miracle.  We cried, we sang songs, we prayed.  The room was so filled with love and life, I cannot think of a more fitting situation for her to passing.  We were singing I Can Only Imagine though our tears when the nurse came in and nodded her head.  I felt like I had been shot in the stomach and we continued on.  Brent and Dad were each holding her hands and they felt her relax and slip away.  Sobbing followed, and family trickled out to the waiting room.  I sat in the chair in the corner of the room and wanted to stay there forever.  Once everything had been gathered, my brother and I finally left the room, leaving her by herself.  It made me numb.  It’s typically not fair to a person to remember that person for one day in their life.  People tend to dwell on a person’s death and not on their life.  I’m sure I’ll do that for a while, but if I’m going to have to focus on her last day, I will at least have those beautiful final moments to focus on.

It’s true: Mom won’t be in pain anymore.  She didn’t want to give up on life, but she doesn’t have to fight through so much pain.  That’s going to comfort me one day, but today is not that day.

This weekend, my nephew Conner and I will plant the roses Mom and I had picked out.  And I’ll makes sure they are planted where she wanted them.  And I will just try my best to get from one day to the next.  I’m going to be sad for a long time, but there are things to be done.

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LaDonna Marie Fuchs

On May 19, 2018, LaDonna Marie Fuchs finished her work here on Earth.  She had done what she needed to do, and in spite of protests by her loved ones, it was time for her to accept her reward and move on to the next life.

LaDonna was born October 18, 1953 in Champaign, Illinois to Billy & Christine Tucker.  She grew up in Stillwater, Oklahoma with her sister Ann and brother Stan.  She graduated from Stillwater High School in 1971 and received her Bachelors degree in Early Childhood Education from Oklahoma State University.  She was a member of the Stillwater Church of Christ.  It was there that she added chosen family members Dale & Mary Combs, whose children David and Mark would be added to LaDonna’s life as brothers.

LaDonna fell in love with Curtis Fuchs in 1977, and the two of them married August 20 of that year.  They had three children:  Brent in 1978, Brian in 1979, and Bradley in 1981.  Each of them can confirm that LaDonna was the best mom anyone could have.  Her incredible love of life, of God, and of children made for a warm and happy home, which they made in Stillwater.

LaDonna’s love of children eventually became too much for just her own, and she and Curtis started Rainbow Preschool at Stillwater Church of Christ in 1982.  It was open until 2007.  There, LaDonna showed her incredible skills at teaching and guiding children.

In 2001, LaDonna started her role as Nana, a position that filled her heart with more joy than she knew she could have.  Conner, KC, Jason, and Avery made her life even more beautiful, and she thanked God everyday for allowing her to be their Nana.  People, especially children, were her ministry.  She even took on the role of second Mom to Justin & Simona, and Nana to Abby because there was no limit to her love.  And her home was open to countless people, whose happiness and comfort was her greatest concern.

She was preceded in death by her parents Billy & Christine Tucker of Stillwater, OK; niece Rechelle Bystedt of Anchorage, AK; as well as close family friends Dale & Mary Combs of Broken Arrow, OK.  She is survived by her husband of 41 years, Curtis Fuchs; sons Brent Fuchs of Edmond, OK, Brian Fuchs of Glencoe, OK & Bradley Fuchs of Stillwater, OK; her grandkids Conner, KC, Jason & Avery: sister Ann Wilkinson (Ron) of Tulsa, OK; brother Stan Tucker (Michael McDermott) of Fort Worth, TX; chosen brother David Combs (Lisa) of Broken Arrow, OK; chosen brother Mark Combs (Krista) of San Antonio, TX; sister-in-law Rita Wilson (Jerry) of Anchorage, AK; nieces Rebecca Stone (Luke) of Flower Mound, TX & Annie Tucker (Adam Ampaipitakwong) of Dallas, TX; Denise Rogers (Matt) of Chugiak, AK; nephews Mark Wilkinson of Georgetown, Kentucky; Matt Wilkinson (Cheryl) of Bixby, OK; & Christian “Opie” Tucker (Laura) of Waco, TX; Les Wilson (Kim) of St. Louis, MO; and other family members Emily Combs (and son Levi) of Broken Arrow, OK; Justin Ward of Glencoe, OK; Abby Dye of Perkins, OK; and dog Chip.  She also leaves behind countless friends who meant the world to her.

Services will be at Stillwater Church of Christ on Sunday, May 27, 2018, 2:00 p.m.  LaDonna will be laid to rest at Sunset Memorial Gardens in Stillwater, OK.

(Obituary written by me.  Pictures are from the handout I created for the funeral.  The missing page has the obituary printed on it.)

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Two days ago — on the eve of my mom’s birthday — I had a very long conversation with her. I was only recently able to have my phone turned back on and wanted to call and talk since it had been so long. It was a weird conversation, but one that reminded me of just how like my parents I am. The things I say, the way I phrase things, those quirks that tend to throw other people off go unnoticed to them. They get me because I am a product of them. I need to be reminded of that from time to time.

We discussed relationships and how my parents’ is one I use as a model for how people should interact with each other. They have an effortless marriage, carrying on their own lives, having their own friends, but wanting to share those lives with one another at the end of the day. They are inspirational.

Somehow, the conversation turned to me. Mom has never verbalized her acceptance of me being gay. I suspected that she had moved on and was less upset about it, but didn’t have anything to base that on. I do now. She choked herself up, assuring me that she understands me and accepts me. She gave a few examples of how this had caused her some pain — not because she didn’t accept it, but because she does and realizes how others view gay people, specifically in her church group.

I certainly wouldn’t have wished for my mom to know that part of it, but I am comforted that she is more aware of what life can be like for me. She said she loves my life because it is real… and that is true. I can be very real sometimes. I’ve grown so numb to the snickers and looks of disgust that I hardly notice them anymore. Honestly, they aren’t even that common, but it doesn’t phase me when those things do happen.

Finally, she let me know that I can share that part of my life with her. I think I really needed permission for that. Not that I have a love life to share, but now that I know that I can tell my family and they will be supportive rather than dismissive, I think my search might get easier. I guess I have been scared of dating, but I haven’t really been willing to admit it. Now what? 28 is a tough year to get out there. It is hard to find someone when I am so clueless about how to talk to guys or how to date… or any of it. I need help!

Something is in the air this year. My life is morphing and I really like where it is going. I really hope that good things result. I know my financial life will catch up eventually, so I have decided to stop worrying so much about it. Life seems pretty good right now.

Image: Franz Marc, “Füchse” (ca.1913)

Featured Image Art: photo of Brian

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Mãe, Ammee, Madre, Màna, Kantaäiti, Biang, Mother, Mere, Nyokap, Moer, Mum, Matka, Nënë, Maji, Ema, Kryemurgeshë, Mëmë, Emo, Mom

“A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.”
–Tenneva Jordan

I doubt most people are half as lucky as I am. I have the great benefit of not only having a wonderful mother, but also, in the same person, I have a great friend. LaDonna Marie Fuchs (Tucker) is one of the most generous people to inhabit this earth and one of the most humble. I strive daily to be more like her and yet don’t have the exact quality that makes her so unique. Mom is independent, intelligent, & content. Today, as we celebrate mothers, I just hope she knows how important she is to me.

I remember when I was young — I could have been 8 or 11 or some such age — I made a decision about my relationship with my mom. We had gone up to her classroom at Rainbow on a Saturday to get something (I don’t remember what it was — plastic treat bags, craft supplies, bright pink buckets). It seems like it was fall. She believed she had picked up a certain number of something or a certain specific something. When she said so, I corrected her, knowing that she had been wrong. “Oh,” she responded in disappointment. It was the way she said it. The “oh” was so sad to me at the age I was. I didn’t want her to feel that way ever again. I decided to not be the source of this kind of “oh” in the future. It seems silly that I have held on to such an insignificant memory. And I have hardly kept my promise, causing both intentional and unintentional pain throughout the years since this incident. But I keep coming back to this, remembering my solemn vow to keep my mom satisfied.

Today, when I feel like everything I say is making no sense to anyone else, I call my mom (or my dad or my brothers). To my family, my words make sense, even when they don’t. To my parents, my values and beliefs are familiar.

I hope all the mothers out there have a wonderful day today.

Updates: no new updates
Activities: worked at Michaels
Food: 4 veggie burger patties, french fries, 4 or 5 cans of Diet Coke

Image: photo of LaDonna & Conner Fuchs

Featured Image Art: Ludwig Sellmayr, “Fuchsfamilie” (1873)

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27.7

Through the dirty pane of glass
I see the lingering snow —
an ever shrinking mass of white.
It’s April and I wonder how much
longer I will be alone.
My head has hurt for a week now
and I can barely stay calm in a job
that seems to have become a prison.

I am calm. I am resolved.
The love is enough; the love
from my family of new friends
(fellow refugees, struggling to
find themselves)
They soothe me and I feel
less angry about failure.

The snow will stick
for a few more weeks.
The grass is displacing patches
here and there — this guest
is no longer welcome.

I am standing here
at my kitchen door,
ready to take to the air;
ready to break free and
start this next phase.
I inhale deeply,
but I do not move.

4.11.2007

Thoughts to people I’ve had on my mind lately. I don’t expect these people to read this, but I wanted my thoughts out there. I also don’t want anyone to feel left out. I have a lot of people in my life and a lot of love to give. Don’t take it personally if I didn’t mention you.

David: You know what I think about you and how I wish you could be content. I am so pained by the hurt you go through, as if I have somehow become an extension of you — an additional limb you don’t really want to deal with. I don’t mean to care so strongly, but I’m not sure I can reverse and love you less. You are a good person who deserves all the things you want, even if you sometimes want them too much. I want to stare into your face for hours. It soothes me and is familiar; you make me feel at home.

Bradley: You’ve endured such pain. I am sorry you’ve had to go through such a terrible time. You are a great person and I know that wherever your life takes you, good things are possible. I hope you realize the blessings in your life and cherish them.

Heather: You put up with too much from me (you put up with too much from everybody). I appreciate your concern about me and know that you really do care. That means a lot. I have tried to distance myself from you a little lately and I am sorry if it has seemed like rejection. It isn’t. I still care about you as much as always, but feel like we needed a bit of a break. I don’t think that anymore. I have been so lucky to have you as a friend.

Grant: I am worried that we have failed to connect recently. I have really tried to open up to you as a friend, but held back a little. I find it difficult to relate to men who aren’t gay, which is horrible of me. I feel like I am disappointing you at work and I hate it. Working for you is the only reason I am still at the store. I want to work for/with you, not only because you are a great guy to be around, but also because you know how to manage a store.

Jacci: You have so much to give. I wish I could just accept it and allow you into my life more. I don’t know if I am scared of something or what, but I just can’t seem to let my guard down around you. I am trying.

Mom: I feel like my journey has caused unnecessary stress for you. I know you don’t understand why I needed to be in Alaska — I don’t really either, but the last thing I ever wanted was to be further away from you. You are one of my closest friends and I wish I could be more open with you. I also worry about you a great deal. I wish I could see you every single day.

People I miss (in no particular order): Jess C, Jess F, Justin, Becky, Meghan, Jill, Jeff, Marla, Serenity, The Kim, Dad, Lori, Ed, Sharon, Stan, G, Annie, Laurisa, Samantha, Kendra, Mimi, Valeri, JoBeth, Ray, Opie, Geri, Jerry, Travis, Conner, Tim, Kathy, Mary C, Mary, Ann, Mom, JD, Jason, Jennie, Elisabeth, Emily, Matt A, Ken, Shauna, Gordon, KC, John H, James, Debbie, Molly, Avery, May, Riley, Jason M, Brent, Bryce, Cara, Paul, Patrick, David E, David M

I know that frustration will only cause me more problems and I can’t live with it. I have to move on and become who I am right now. Life is far too short to accept pain. Having almost literally counted my blessings, it seems that I must realize how lucky I am. And I do know that. I hope all of this means I am moving forward.

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It was March 10, 2002 — a Sunday morning. I was at work, shelving a cart in the corner of the store where the history, biography, & social sciences sections were kept. I had paused for a moment to read the inside flap on the book.  I had taken entirely too much time looking decided to place it on hold for myself so I could look at it later. I took it to the front and placed it on the employee hold shelf. Bettina announced that I had a phone call. I knew it would be my parents and it irritated me that they could never figure out to not call me before we open.

When I answered the phone, it was my dad. There were no pleasantries; he simply said I needed to leave work and drive to Stillwater immediately. Not really catching on to the tone, I informed him that I couldn’t leave work, but wanted to know what was going on. “Mimi has been taken to the hospital and is probably not going to make it.” That still breaks my heart. My brain went numb and my eyes blurry. I said I would leave and be there as soon as possible. As soon as I hung up, I went back to the office, told Bettina I needed to go, and fell apart. She comforted me, telling me not to worry about work and instructing me to do what I needed to do. I left work, went home to let Justin (who was my roommate at the time) know where I’d be, and rushed to Stillwater. On the way, my cousin Becky called to make sure I knew what was going on.

I arrived in Stillwater about an hour and a half after the initial phone call. As I walked in, I was met by my mom, who was bawling. The entire tone of the house was energetic and sad — each family member’s arrival starting the tears over again.

“Mimi” is my mom’s mom, Bonita Christine “Chris” Tucker. She was the matriarch of our family; the force that connected us all and kept us together. She orchestrated every event that brought us together, reminded us to connect with one another, and nagged us all mercilessly. Mimi was an extremely confident woman who knew who she was. She was totally devoted to her husband, her God, & the other members of her church. She was generous with her money and her time, but was never afraid to tell you her opinion on what you were doing. Evidently, there wasn’t enough money to be made as a writer to justify her supporting it. I cherished talking to her. I would sit with her and talk about people for hours… she knew absolutely everything going on in Stillwater. But it never seemed like gossip. Mimi was a very good-hearted person.

By the time I arrived in Stillwater, she had passed away. After the watery greetings from my mom and aunt, I settled in with my brothers and cousin — those I always hang out with when everyone is together. Star, my grandparents’ cat, was the hero of this story. Even though he was unable to save her, he did what he could. Apparently, he went to my grandpa (Papa), woke him up, and led him to where Mimi had fallen. We suspect either a massive heart attack, stroke, or aneurysm, as her arms were still by her side and she hadn’t tried to stop her fall.

Bonita
on viewing my Mimi’s body

She looks perfect,
her familiar red dress matched
beautifully with the soft pink lining,
the red heart draped around her neck.
As if she’d just come in
from church for a nap —
a lazy Sunday afternoon,
shy lay resting — calm, peaceful.
Tears stream down my grandpa’s
too often stoic face.
His wife — the woman he
devoted his entire life to —
his best friend.
“She really is a beautiful lady.”

Brian Fuchs 3.12.2002

That week was surreal. I still don’t remember much of it. Of course, it culminated in a beautiful funeral. I had gone back home to Tulsa to get some clothes and for the funeral I chose the shirt she had just given me for Christmas. The shirt was a gold knit with a collar. I wore khaki pants. I wouldn’t have felt right in dark colors and I really wanted to celebrate life. The funeral was made that much more difficult when I discovered that my cousins’ nanny was sitting with them and I couldn’t sit with my immediate family because of it. Furthermore, I ended up next to my mom’s friend, who had apparently not figured out that I was an adult and kept talking to me as if I were a child.

When the funeral was over, my two best friends came up to me and asked if I was okay. I had really been fine all week, only crying on Sunday morning. I shook my head no and buried myself in their arms and cried. I felt like the world had just ended. A few days later, I left on a trip with them, where I was able to sort through things slowly throughout the next week. Which isn’t to say I felt any better about it all.

untitled (‘100 days’)

It’s been one hundred days
and if feels like it all happened
just this morning.
I’m starting to realize she’s gone —
finally missing her and ultimately
knowing I can never see her again.

I hate that morning —
when Mimi died.
Loneliness overtook me and
pain was invited in.
All I needed was a hug
from Bettina, JD, Travis, Becky,
Mom — but they weren’t there.
I’m cold inside and sad.
I miss her.

Brian Fuchs 6.18.2002

It took a long time to accept that Mimi was gone. I imagine I will have that hole in my heart for the rest of my life. I haven’t even been able to return to her house for any length of time and feel comfortable. That always makes me feel guilty because I do want to visit Papa, who is remarried, but there is too much history in that place. But it is also important to remember that I got to know Mimi. I had the amazing opportunity to be a member of a family with her at the head.

That is when I first realized my life had become about death. It had only been 447 days since my grandma Fuchs (“G”) had passed away. Since then, I have lost 2 friends and 2 great-grandmothers. I am ready to have my life defined by something else; be defined by love or friendship or family. I have felt rather selfish about these deaths over these past 6 years. They are important to me, but moving on is much more important.

21 March 2007

Images: photo of Christine Tucker; vintage illustration of child dressed as a cardinal

Featured Image Art: photo of Christine Tucker

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Game Day:
Last Friday night, Bradley & I went to his friend John’s house to use his internet connection. John works until 2:00 a.m., so he isn’t oblivious to the reason behind our 11:30 p.m. visits to his empty house (except for the bird… and I might help kill the bird). Anyway, we have a tendancy to stay until morning, as we talk when John returns (this WILL be happening again tomorrow night).

So, Saturday was a day of sleep. I woke up pretty late to sounds of a football game. I hadn’t been around my mom & OSU football since high school. I had forgotten. It is high-spirited, fun, loud,… weird. She loves football. My dad, on the other hand, finds football too trivial to be bothered with. Largely, Brad & I agree. Brent will watch on occasion. This particular game was a biggie though. I remember vaguely asking who we were playing as I slowly became aware of my surroundings. Nebraska.

We were losing and by halftime, Mom had decided to not finish watching and, in fact, never watch another game again. Dramatics. She & I drove in to get some sodas. Since she didn’t want to watch the game, I took along Sugarland & Rascal Flatts, knowing she would enjoy them both. Curiousity did eventually get the best of her and she switched the radio to the OSU station. We had scored a number of times and were now winning the game. We had to return home.

We did beat Nebraska.

Mom was so excited during the game that I felt guilty at making any negative comments towards her. It was fun and so odd, being sports related. I, if it wasn’t obvious, am not a sports fan at all. I do care if Oklahoma State wins, which is good. And I care if OU loses, which is good. But overall, I have no passion for anything sports related. Spending happy moments with Mom, however trivial, is awesome though.

Winds Of Change:
The wind is really blowing hard today. It is great to experience wind again, as Alaska’s version of wind is rather pathetic. Problem: allergies. After a week, they have finally started to bother me, no doubt because the wind kicked up something. I don’t like feeling sick on vacation, but will if this keeps up all week.

Today, Mom & Ann (her sister) went to a funeral in Oklahoma City. I felt bad that I couldn’t go when Ann asked me to go. They are fun together. I am turning into those two. I am both happy and frustrated about that, but can do nothing about it. There is no need to overthink it. I will go see Ann tomorrow while I am in Tulsa. I wish I had longer to spend with everyone. I have a lot of love to spread around, but such a small amount of time to do it in. And still I find myself in solitude a lot. Curious.

I hope there is snow on the ground when I return to Anchorage… even just a little bit.

Image: photo of Quarterback Bobby Reid of Oklahoma State University’s football team during the 28 September gate against Nebraska

Featured Image Art: AI image (created using Wonder AI)

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Grand Day Out!

I had a fantastic day with my family. It started really early, when waffles were the reason for waking me up. Too early. I was cranky, but got over it after a while. Dad & I drove Mom’s car into town to get a tune up so I can borrow it for the weekend. While the car was at the shop, we went to Curly’s (a local burger place that is great), an antique store, a thrift store, & a used book store. I ended up with a copy of Heidi, a thesaurus, & a “fat devil” salt shaker. I didn’t need any of it, but the shopping was fun.

When it was determined that the car would not be ready for another 6 hours, we went back to the farm to hang out for a while. At some point, I must’ve fallen asleep because Mom woke me up to watch the girls while she and Dad returned for her car. Brad had stopped by at that moment and he and I hung out and talked while watching KC & Avery.

When Mom & Dad came back, they brought pizza. Laurisa wasn’t far behind. We all ate, talked, and generally had a good time. Unfortunately, Laurisa and the girls had to leave and the evening became a lot more calm.

Not long after that, Mom got a call about a family member who passed away. She retired to her room, where she was on the phone the rest of the evening, talking and making plans for going to the funeral. Dad, Brad, & I talked for a couple hours. We ripped music, made CDs, & talked about whatever. It was nice, but I hated that Mom was in pain in her room.

Now, I am at John’s house. John is Brad’s best friend. He has been kind enough to allow me to use his internet connection. And to sit around and talk, which is fun to do and different from sitting in Mom & Dad’s quiet house trying to not make any noise. My brain is functioning at a different time.

Images: AI images (created using Wonder AI)

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So, I have been rather critical of my current visit with my family. I came home to Stillwater, Oklahoma after having spent the past year in Alaska. I am only here for 2 weeks and had very specific expectations of what this trip would be. Firstly, there would be exuberance and rejoicing over my return. Celebration and merriment would follow and I would enjoy many days of relaxing conversation with my parents at their new home outside of town.

That did not happen. The lack of interest in me once I arrived made me feel severely unneeded. Perhaps it is a blessing to know this. It doesn’t make knowing it any easier to know that my family can exist happily without me. It hurts a little. And this growing pain was something that needed to occur. I realize that I was never going to grow if I considered myself just one of my parents’ children instead of viewing myself as an independant individual, capable of being my own person.

I am capable.

I have only been gone for a year, but is seems like so much longer. Things I never took notice of before, suddenly stick out like bits of bone in the most delicious piece of fish I’ve ever eaten. I want to love it so much, but it just isn’t quite right. Conversely, things I took for granted seem like little blessings that only I seem to be aware of — the price of groceries, the proximity of family, dirt roads — and nobody else is taking notice. I miss this place, but I am happy to not be here at the same time.

My parents have changed. My brothers have changed. And there are small children, ready to take any attention left from whomever is around. It is a chaotic place, full of love and life, but completely unwelcoming to me. Because I wish it was the way it used to be.

Not In Alaska:
I have been enjoying the small pleasures I cannot get in Alaska. Trips: Sonic X2, Whataburger, Wal-Mart Supercenter X2, Wall’s, Bath & Bodyworks. I plan to go to a thrift store & Wall’s today and this weekend I will be going to Target, Bangkok, & hopefully Tuesday Morning and/or Hobby Lobby.

{edit}

Let me make things more clear. I really do love my family. They are the best family I could hope for. They are the most generous, most caring, & most interesting people I know. I was simply disappointed in the state of things in regards to the way I was treated on my returning after a year.

Images: Oklahoma A&M logo; illustration of seated woman (McGill Library via Unsplash)

Featured Image Art: township map of Payne County, OK

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Sleep:
Once again, my sleep is a little screwy. I would blame it on my being sick, but that is almost over and really has little to do with it in my estimation. I think it is entirely caused by my own foolishness. When one is tired, one should go to sleep. This one, however, doesn’t always do that. It is okay, but I just don’t want my sleep pattern to interfere with work… and somehow it always does. I really need to stop complaining about this. If nothing is changing I will just have to accept it.

Shopping:
My parents came over for some shopping today. I really enjoyed it, even if it did seem to be a little pointless. They picked up very little. I do have some ideas of what to get them though. We all went to Cracker Barrel after, as it is somewhere they can’t go in Stillwater. Then a quick trip to Nam-Hai, Hancock, and they returned home. I miss that. They used to come over all the time. Now I just feel like I am the son who hasn’t brought them the joy of grandchildren… which just makes me feel like a failure in life. I really wish that things were different sometimes and that I had the opportunity to have children of my own. I love my neice and nephews, but that isn’t the same. They also had KC with them, my neice. She is fun and very good natured. God, I want a family… and yes, I want a husband.

When they left, I went to Target to find a gift for my secret Santa person at work. I had picked up one thing because it was a good deal, but then I found the exact perfect thing I was looking for. I got that instead. I really think it will be a hit! I also got a small something for Lori, some gift bags, a gift for a girl at work I didn’t really want to buy for (but it was perfect), and some additional cards. I showed amazing restraint and put back the three items that I would never have used (2 clearance bags & an empty tin). I enjoyed the day, but it was exhausting. I stopped by Lori’s, watched last half of CSI, all of Without A Trace, and fell asleep sometime during the 10 o’clock news.

Work:
Work has been insanity lately. Such is the nature, yadda yadda yadda… I do of course work in retail. This weekend look like it will be a blast!!! We have a great crew Friday and Saturday, and then the manager party is on Sunday! Good times. It’ll be nice to be around these people and be having a good time — with the exception of Lori, with whom I often enjoy myself.

I just about killed Nick the other day, and now I understand someone called out yesterday… they are all on my list at this point. ALL OF THEM. I guess I need to start getting mean before someone notices. I love them to death, but they are walking all over me and they don’t really care right now. Maybe that isn’t true of everyone, but I get the feeling that several of them feel that way. Woe.

Featured Image Art: photo by Dustin Humes (via Unsplash)