Happy 59th QBunny

Love and miss you.  Did the plenary indulgence for you this week.  I pray you don't "need it!"  But are already looking down on me from heaven.

Rest in Peace

Please keep my late husband, Quentin Gelder, in your prayers today.  Today is the 3rd anniversary of his death. I hope he has his reward in heaven by now.  He suffered so much in silence, and did not tell me when he lost his sight to spare me pain.  I did not know that until after Q.'s death when his dad told me.  I can't imagine anyone facing death from brain cancer with more courage than he had.  My heart aches thinking of the morning of his death, when at 5a.m.  he called out "sweetie" in an anguished voice.

I took one look at him and *knew* it was going to be the day.  I made him as comfortable as possible, and called his parents as soon as it was feasible.  With the help of a nun in the parish, who moved heaven and earth to get a neighboring priest (our own Parish priest was on holiday), the priest literally came about 10 minutes before he died to give him last rites.  Q. had been upright for a number of hours "holding on" as I kept hold of his hand assuring him his parents would be coming and we were trying to round up a priest.  Immediately after the priest left, his parents arrived, just in time for his death.  I have always preferred to say "death" rather than "passed away" or other euphemisms.     I don't think it does any of us much good to gloss over the thought that none of us will be around forever, and one day, we never know the day, we will also come to our end here on earth.

With both the priest and his parents making it literally just in time, I hope all of you will be as lucky to have loved ones and benefit of clergy when your time comes.    It was almost "movie like" in that sense.  Deus ex machina...just in time.  Today a newly ordained priest, Fr. Martin Wheaton was kind enough to offer the mass for Q.      Fr. just last week wrote how his emergency bleeper for a hospital call went off, and how he made it just in time.  How privileged priests are to be with one at one's most intimate moments.  So this sort of scenario DOES happen outside the movies.

Later on I hope to go over to attend mass myself at Brompton Oratory, which Q loved so much.   And I expect he was also remembered at Blackfriars in Oxford, where he was a 3rd order Domincan.

There has not been a day go by where I haven't missed his touch, his smile, his patience, or most of all his love for me.  There are days I don't want to wake up.   Sleepless nights, a hole in my heart that never goes away.  But I just need to hold on to hope and trust in the Lord.  That someday, with the grace of God, we may be together again.

Alas, poor Yorick

The other day I was going through things my late husband had.  This picture was taken shortly after his last chemotherapy treatment.  He'd undergone the therapy for a number of weeks on and it was very uncomfortable for him.    In the beginning, the mask, which is custom made for each person to keep their head in place, was too tight and very trying for him, they had to remake and alter a 2nd time, and then another adjustment.   Oftentimes after he'd finished the treatment, marks from the tough plastic mask would remain on his face for a long time, sometimes even an hour later you could see where the mask had been.

He never complained about the cancer, but you could see he was a happy man when that phase of his treatment had ended.  I think he did most of his purgatory on earth.    At any rate, I hope he is happy now, and has met my mom and dad and other relatives.   I'm very sorry that none of my relatives ever got to meet him.  It would have been my mother's 83rd birthday today.  I don't know what dad would have made of Q, but I think my mom would have adored him.  If there is cake in heaven I hope they had some, and thought of me.  It will be the 18th anniversary of her death 4 days from now.  Hard to believe it's been so long  Like Q, my mom had died of cancer.  Going through her death, helped prepare me for his.

There have been a few times where I've almost thrown Q's mask away.  And it puzzled me why I hadn't.  The other day it occurred to me why I hadn't.    Close up, one can see the shape of the face.  It's almost a modern day death mask - no other human had or will ever have those exact features or facial measurements. It's unique. And and a reminder that one day we all come to death's door.  Some sooner than expected.  And you never know what your own fate will be.  No person is ever replaceable.

The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil:
for Thou art with me;
Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies
Thou anointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Happy Anniversary - or should have been

Today should have been Quentin's and my  2nd Anniversary  - but it was not to be.  I have physically been feeling a lot better.  [Still fighting periods of depression, but it's getting better.]  I wanted to get out today and do something rather than be stuck at home. So I went to Mass this morning, then I hopped the train over to Windsor, and had a nice day out.  The weather was on the crappy side, but just good enough with occasional bursts of sunshine.  Which on a winter weekday makes it a perfect day to go.

For some reason there are TWO train stations in Windsor, only a few hundred yards apart.  My train from Feltham to Windsor only takes 23 minutes and terminates at Eton & Riverside.  Walk about 150 yards and you could hit the side of the base of the castle with a baseball.  So if your knees are good you can be at the admission entrance within a 5-10 minute walk.

When Q was young he had a Highland Westie.  My favorite dog was a Springer Spaniel.  One of the few pleasures we had together was stopping in Richmond Deer Park on the way either to and from the hospital when he was doing his chemo treatments.  People walk their doggies there and we usually saw either one or the either breed, but quite frequently both.  I once told Quentin jokingly that whereas St. Therese mentioned that when she got to heaven she would send roses as her sign, that I would instead send spaniels.  I've noticed since his death often when I am in a place he enjoyed I DO end up seeing a highland Westie -- so I must say it has me going a bit.  Today was no different.  Just as I was reaching the entrance to the castle, two fellows with dogs met up -- and one of them was -- a WESTIE.  So I wonder if Q has a hand in this!  I kind of hope so.

There were FEW people touring in the afternoon today.  I got some photos where there was NO ONE in some of the long shots that normally would have been crowded with people.  For the 1st time I waltzed right in to Queen Mary's dollhouse - and that can easily be a two hour wait or more in the summer on the weekend.  I got to really look at every little bit of it.  And there were some of the "semi-state room" rooms open that are normally never open except in the winter -- essentially some normally more private rooms in the part of the castle that had been burned in the fire.  In particular a red drawing room done to  George IV's taste that overlooks the back gardens, and a "corner dining room" that looks out either towards Eton or the back gardens.  Victoria loved eating there, and apparently the present queen likes to take her guests there for dinner and breakfasts if she has a weekend house party.  The only drawback is you are not allowed to take photos on the inside of the buildings.  I expect besides a potential security issue it might cut into their guidebook sales.

Here are some more photos of the outside:  1st the Round tower -- the oldest part of the castle, though the top 30 feet was added in the 1800s to make the place look, well, "more castle like" as if it wasn't castlelike enough already!

 Next up is a bit more of the garden which surrounds the Round tower -- it used to be filled with a moat - but now it's a nice private garden.

This is a picture of "the bit" of the castle in the  Upper Ward across from the state rooms.  This is what the queen considers her "real home" as opposed to Buckingham Palace which to her is like working "over the shop."  Every day at 11 they have a changing of the guard here in the quadrangle.

 I stayed for evensong in St. George's, which is in the Castle Grounds.  Very splendid church which I've always loved.  I sat in the stall occupied by Haille Selassie when he was a member of the Order of the Garter.  18 boys and 10 men sang.  The Anglicans, I must say, really know how to do evensong. The boys attend the co-educational St. George's  school which is located at the foot of the Castle hill.   Louise, the queen's youngest grand-daughter currently attends, as had Beatrice and Eugenie back in their day.  I especially missed Q at Mass and at Evensong.   He really loved Windsor.  We did get to drive through it a few times when he was still living, but he wasn't well enough for the long walks by the time we knew he was sick with cancer.  But I highly recommend visiting on a winter's day during the week.  You can really look at everything at length without being crowded or have any wait times.  And DO NOT MISS evensong.  There were 20 of us from the public there this evening, and I expect in the summer you probably wouldn't get to sit in the choir stalls.

This picture was taken from the north terrace of Windsor castle.  At the bottom of the picture is St. George's school - the yellow buildings.  The long red building in the train station (Eton Riverside) and near the top you can make out the Eton College church if you click on the picture you should be able to make it out.

You can't really do Windsor without taking a picture of some Guardsmen, so I did.  You don't see too many guns in England, but this is one of the few places you will.

And this following picture was taken just before I went in to evensong.  Really incredible virtually NO ONE is in this shot.

Last week I'd come over to Windsor to catch a matinee at the Theatre Royal of Sheridan's THE RIVALS where Mrs. Malaprop and Anthony Adverse made their appearances.  Nice to finally actually SEE that play rather than just read about it.  Got a cheap seat for only £11 in the 3rd row.

The day would have even better if my dapper Qbunny could have attended in person if not just in spirit.  But I have to content myself with the thought that he is in a far better place.  Missing him terribly.

The Last Day of the Year

... to most of you, unless you are in the Home Office, or one of their minions, a magistrate, or a pissy bank manager or two, Comrade Zero's bot, or anyone involved in governing the borough of Hounslow (even if their mothers are Welsh.)  [My musical theatre friends should get the last reference.]  I'm trying to remember  a year of my life worse than this one.  I can think of one or two that equaled it - but not many.  2011 at least had the bittersweet joy of being married to Q.  The long-awaited visa eventually came through - and for spite they had sat on it another month after they put the stamp in the visa.  Had they sent it on time it would have made my life a lot easier  - so most of the year was spent fighting the government and still to date not having satisfaction of what is still owed me by the government.  So I've had to work with the MP and ending up in the process writing to the Queen - and got letter back from same, or at least her minion.  Those bastards at the UKBA also tried to say that they only processed visas "out of order for exceptional circumstances."    And of course, it's not just Theresa May's Home office that is so messed up -- it's pretty much the entire UK Border Agency.

I will not write here the detail I wrote to the Queen,  but all I can say is I wish it were the days when heads could roll.  I also need to also find justice for Q. regards the outstanding medical issues for possible malpractice.   I haven't been able to file a needed lawsuit for lack of money - mostly due to government inaction on the visa and all the tumble down effect that had on my life.    And there are still other Q issues to solve which I won't go into here.

Physically I've been fighting an off and on  iron deficiency which really took a major toll too and was pretty debilitating. Thanks to Mac M. and Juliet W. for pinpointing what was physically wrong.  Have yet to use the NHS and really don't intend to unless hit by a bus and it's involuntary.   Have had "issues" with various institutions including courts.   Did you know so-called magistrates can be so pissy as to not give their name or bank managers so ****ing lazy and incompetent to not cash a crummy check for £120 pounds when you bring ID in person, even though it is drawn on that bank?  I'm contemplating picketing along with a formal complaint to whatever board handles that - even if they don't find in my favor, it will cost them £500 pounds in having an investigation on them - so a certain arrogant SOB bank "manager" might get a boot up his buns.  "Rags" was such a little weasel trying to take his name off his tie when I demanded to see it.  And of course, it's not just Theresa May's Home office that is so messed up -- pretty much the entire UKBA.

I can count a handful of days that were good.  I managed to go to the theatre 4 times this year - saw Sweeny Todd, which I'd never seen before (was always waiting for a good production.)  Also saw One Man, Two Governors and the Reduced Shakespeare Company's Olympic's special, and The King's Speech.  And Juliet W. also took me to the proms one night, so I finally got to experience that.  It was my first time in the Albert Hall.  All I kept thinking of was the Hitchcock movie...a lot of the nights people go really casually dressed,   You can sit up in the Gods for only £5 a lot of the nights.  Not much seating area, but people bring blankets and you can  bring a stash of food in.   So it's all good.  All that marble is especially welcome on a warm night.

 I got to go to Henley 3 times this year - twice for the Regatta and once for the informal Town and Country a month later - where I presented an award for the ladies single intermediate skulls winner.  It was an event that Q sponsored annually.  I hope I did my Qbunny proud.

Because I presented a prize, I also got a free boat ride to trail the race in a nifty long boat that looks like the one in the foreground of this picture.  There are splendid houses like this all up and down this stretch of the river.  While here I met a friend of a friend who lives in one of them.  Must be nice!!  By chance when I was about 14 I read a National Geographic coffee table book called "This England" that was published in the early 60s.  I said to myself then:  "Someday...."  I didn't know that "someday" I'd get to step into the picture literally.



This is me with Diana D - she and her husband David were good Henley friends of Q and have been really kind to me.  This was taken late June on the Wednesday of Henley week, so still uncrowded - I didn't want to go up on the weekend.  Too crazy!  We were properly dressed (anyone can go, but you can't get into the Steward's Enclosure in just anything.  It does make the event fun.  The MEN get to be the peacocks at this event.  The women get to be peacocks at Ascot.  My Qbunny, had that English sense of dressing right for the occasion, and I knew he would have thought the ladies in the next picture's foreground, nicely dressed as they are, OVERDRESSED - which to him was almost as big a sartorial sin as being under dressed.

He would have said:  "that's ASCOT dress, not Henley."  Straw hats are the thing, and not too fussy.  Notice the complete ice-cream suit of the man just over the left of Diana's shoulder in the 1st pic.  Also for ladies LOW shoes, with small stacked heel at most, skirt/dress, knee length at least.  You *will* be called on it for short skirt and they'd chuck you out of the enclosure.  It's dressy SPORTY - but not "dressy/Ascot."  It's worth clicking on the picture to see the detail of the men's jackets.

I think the most splendid jacket I saw was this one.  Can you imagine any male in the US wearing this as a matter of course for the right event?  I like to think of Henley as "the best of England."  And the ritual is there not for people to play act in.  Most of them genuinely do like the boat races.  Although they *are* seen, they do not, for the most part, go to *be* seen.  If that makes sense.  By chance, when I was in my last year at UCSD I did do a bit of rowing myself - and have to say it was very fun!

 I didn't realize the true impact of "the River[Thames]" until I'd lived here.  And yet in English history, legend, story, and life it's all there.  It's not just Henley itself - but it's all that Wind in the Willows, "THE" 'boat race' between Oxford and Cambridge, punting on the Thames [thank you Dorothy Sayers for the unforgettable punting scene in Gaudy Night with Peter and Harriet], river pageants, Isaac Walton mystique.  IF you've seen the movie "Hope and Glory" there's an idyllic bit at the end of the family going to live with granddad along the river.  It represents "peace and tranquility and all being right."  It plays a bigger life in the English mind than you'd think.  Or certainly amongst "Q's" kind of people.  His parents told me one of the proudest days of Q's life was when he qualified to be a judge at boat races.  I'm VERY glad he did NOT see the debacle THE 2012 boat race was, whereby one spoilsport thoroughly ruined the race and it effected the outcome of the race too.  Had Q seen that I think he would have jumped through the TV set, and had his hands around the perp's throat before the coppers did.  As it was, the perp almost had his head decapitated by an oar.  Q had asked me early in our relationship which I preferred?  Oxford or Cambridge?  And I said "Oxford of course."  He was glad he finally had an ally. Since he was about 4 he always rooted for Oxford and mom and dad always rooted for Cambridge.  Amongst certain people the rivalry is like the Army/Navy game in the US.

Did go out to Windsor once, and hope to go soon again - the ticket's good until mid-April, and I think I can handle the walking again.  Parking can be hard to find in Windsor - but I can catch a bus outside my front door up to Feltham train station (about a mile from here - or I can hoof it, if I'm up to it) - then the train to Windsor is only about 20 minutes and it ends up right at the foot of the hill up to Windsor, and not far from Eton college.  It's only about 12 miles away.   Before I lived here I'd always visited Windsor -- I especially like the gardens and St. George's which is pretty splendid.  Quite a number of English monarchs, including the Queen's dad are buried here.

Fr. John Boyle was in London briefly, so got to have lunch with him, and finally meet him in person.   Also had nice Italian lunch with Stephen F. from Manchester who was in London for the day.   Stephen is an old rec.arts.theatre.musicals friend who I've known through the internet for ages - we'd also met a few times before when he was in San Diego.  I'd also scored a copy of the libretto from FOLLIES that day when we stopped by Samuel French - it was something I'd long wanted and it had been reissued, unbeknownst to me - so it was a pleasant surprise.

I'd also been out to Blackfen and Our Lady of the Rosary this year.  Mac M has been most supportive.  Was out for a blogonic in February, and was VERY fortunate to arrange for Q to have Fr. Tim's 10:30 Saturday Latin Mass be offered for Q on Oct 21st - his one year anniversary of death. The picture here is the elevation at that mass.   And I also went over when Mac renewed her vows early December.    Fun, but too bad they are WAY over on the other side of London.  A crummy 20 miles as crow flies turns into either: 120 mile round trip in car via M-25 (gas 1.39 a liter about 8.50 a US gallon) OR two train changes plus bus and longer to get there.   Works out same price either way, roughly.  I also had to move, but remain in Feltham and hope in the New Year to get a job locally as a) I like this end of London as it is close to everywhere I'd want to go.

But even some of the good days can get wrecked.  Like Dec. 8th - I was finally feeling good enough to get a few things done on the same day - a bank errand (a different one!) and then walked over to Mass -- where I found I had completely forgotten the parish had its 80th anniversary celebration.  Really wonderful Mass with different communities contributing, and a great reception afterwards.  Then went shopping, home, made dinner and found I had *lost* my wedding ring.  Well, temporarily anyway.  4 days later found it in a place I'd checked twice already.  But I was just sick with grief in the time it was missing.  Fr. Chris V. of St. Lawrence, Feltham has been most kind, as well as has his Anglican priest cousin, Fr. Paul W.   And the aforementioned David and Diana D., and I had lunch one afternoon with Q's parents in Fleet.

I also got up to the Richmond Deer Park 3 times this year.  Once for lunch at Pembroke Lodge - where David Niven was posted for a spell during WWII when he was in Phantom Regiment.  Richmond park sits on the top of a promentory in west London about 8 miles as the crow flies from where I live.  One of the few pleasures Q and I had together his last year was going there on the way home after his radiation treatments.  I was sorry the "Fenton" episode happened shortly after his death.  Oh, how he would have laughed.  We always managed to see either an English Springer Spaniel or a Highland Westie, and sometimes both on the same day.  We'd had DDDs of those same variety.  The deer are incredibly tame. You can drive through the park, but the speed limit is only 20 for good reason.  Like cops everywhere, the local constabulary *loves* nailing people going over the limit through the thing.  Good reason too - some of those deer will literally graze along the boarder of the road.

My parents-in-law just celebrated their 60th anniversary on the 22nd of this month, and I was able to arrange that they get congratulations from the Queen.  I was happy to do that, because I'm sure Q would have remembered to do that.  Seems she's the only efficient one with a half-way decent staff.  My father in law answered the door at 7:30 in the morning on the day of their anniversary.  The letter had to be specially signed for, and it had to be reported back to Her Maj. if it hadn't been delivered by 9 a.m. that day!

 I was able to get up to see them for Christmas and they have been very kind and supportive.  So I guess that has been the very best thing this year. This photo, as far as I know is one of the few if not THE only photo of Quentin taken with his parents in recent years.  I took it almost exactly 2 years ago -- literally days before we found out Q was seriously ill with terminal cancer.   I envy his parent's 60 years together.  Q and I didn't even get a 1st anniversary.  John will be 90 this next Lincoln's Birthday and Lorna is two months younger than her Maj.

Next year?  Please God, let it be better - I can't take too many more like this.

Exactly 2 years ago yesterday...

...my Quentin assisted at Mass at Blackfriars in Oxford.  He was MC on the Far Right.   Fr. Lawrence Lew was the subdeacon.  We'd not yet 'net met' but scarcely more than two months later we were secretly engaged. The occasion below was the annual Requiem Mass for Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester.  You can read what my husband had posted about it here.

The Duke died Feb. 23, 1447.  As Q put it:

"Now why, you may ask, should one have a Requiem for someone who has been dead for well over 550 years?

Well, largely because however long or short a time someone has been dead, until we know they’re in Heaven, we must assume that they are still in Purgatory, and need our prayers – and the only people of whom we know they’re in Heaven are the Saints, of whose presence in Heaven God has given us proof."

I hope everyone keeps that in mind and prays for Quentin when they think of him.

These may not be a ideal pictures of Q -  most people have hundreds of photos of their loved ones. By comparison I have relatively few.  So every one is precious.

Not long after this event, he also  wrote an item called, 'Dying in Dignity'. regards his 1st wife's death of cancer.  A rather poignant bit is what he said about the pain and suffering - which he himself was to suffer less than two years later.

Quentin wrote:

"My wife would have scorned to ask for an ‘easy way out’; and she would certainly never have thought of it as ‘dignified’ to seek an early death, despite the weeks of mental anguish, not to mention the physical pain involved. Indeed, when someone asked if she was afraid of dying she said ‘Of course; but it’s like Easter,isn't it – you can’t have Easter Day without Good Friday, and I can’t have the Resurrection without the Passion.’Alright, in the event (and when she was barely conscious) she was given pain relief at the end; but ultimately she died in the knowledge – and the confidence – that (to quote the hymn)

‘Long years ago, when earth lay dark and still;
Rose a loud cry, upon a lonely hill;
When, in the frailty of our human clay
Christ, our redeemer, passed the self-same way.’

She accepted that to die was only to go where Jesus had gone before her; and that there was nothing about it to be afraid of, except the fear itself : and the legacy she left behind of patient trust in God touched many people. Would they have been as impressed if she’d said ‘Oh well, if I have to die, I might as well do it now – give me the injection’? I very much doubt it."

Quentin was very brave, accepted his cancer, and not once did he voice 'why me?'    Quentin was conscious to the last and was blessed to have last rites within 15 minutes before he died, as well as having myself in attendance and his parents had just made it to our home immediately after the priest had left.  I believe it safe to say he had the grace of a happy death, though he must have suffered much.  Please keep him in your prayers.

Happy 1st Anniversary, darling Q ...

...or it would have been.  

Went to Mass this morning, but I just couldn't stop the tears.  Fr. Chris was so kind afterwards.  Lit a candle for you, and pray others keep you in their prayers too.  Had a lovely lunch Sunday with your parents and Nelam and her boyfriend, Ben.  I see so much of you in your parents and them in you.

I pray someday we will be together again.

Merry Christmas, Darling

A very quiet Christmas for me.  More so than usual.  I've been coping with re-cooperating from a severe tussle with anemia.  Thanks to some friends here, they helped pinpoint WHAT it was, and have been on proper iron tablets for the last almost two weeks.  Right after Q's funeral on Nov 2, I knew I'd be physically and emotionally drained for two weeks.  And I was.    Then when I was mentally ready to start to get up and going on with life in general, I was knocked for a loop.  I couldn't stand for more than a minute or two without literally feeling dizzy, faint, heart pounding.  What the heck was wrong?  Eventually, friends figured it out specifically.  I'm on the mend now, but I've scarcely been out of the apartment for the last 7 or so weeks.  Had friends do shopping twice, and two days ago went to store for a quick 15 minute shop and just about managed, though very tired when I got back.

So....how's Christmas been?  Not quite up to going to Mass yet -- certainly not on a Sunday.  Other than Q's funeral, last time I was up to going to mass was the Sunday immediately following his death, and I spent half of that Mass in tears.  This morning -- still not up to an hour Mass.  But perhaps tomorrow.  Fr. Christopher, the Catholic Parish Priest in Feltham has been kind to come to see me with Communion these last few weeks.  Still on going issues with 'the visa thing.'  At least I'm not paranoid -- the Home Office IS specifically giving Americans a hard time -- this I found out from Q's former business partner, (also an immigration lawyer) who read an account from the Press Association Wire services that the Home office IS 'retaliating' against American by deliberate foot dragging.  This after a judge ruled immediately when my case was heard before him in my favor (all he can do is send on to the home office.)  Well the government DIDN'T appeal his decision in my favor...but that was nearly 3 months ago.  Apparently 'give the woman her damn visa and stop being assholes about it' means to the Home Office  'we can take our sweet time at the home office to give her maximum discomfort in securing employment, getting widow's benefits, getting a driver's license, even opening a bank account. -- Never MIND the woman saved the UK government thousands of pounds, because without her Q would have been stuck in a hospice to die somewhere uncared for and we'd have had to send someone around to clean him, and feed and water him, if we could be bothered.  Nah, let's continue to treat HER like dirt.'  The AGONY all this gave Q.  It was the one time he broke into tears, the hassles the government was giving us.

At any rate:  no presents to send -- Lloyd's caught up with Q's death and FROZE the account, so I can't get squat out of it -- and I'm not well enough just yet to march down there without keeling over.  But I anticipated this as 'what can go wrong, will' -- so I have a few other people holding a sum of money out for me (rather than put it in the bank) so at least bills can be paid -- although in a pain in the ass round about way.  Worst, was they froze it just before I was going to do some on line shopping for Q's parents Christmas presents.  So, unfortunately that has to wait until next few weeks.    As for 'Christmas stuff around the house' -- I did manage to go through 3 packs of double stuffed Oreos, and there's a nice little Christmas basket I picked up at the store -- filled with pine tree greenery and decorated cones and red bows and things.  Cheerful.  And I managed to score some good ethnic food -- had an entire pack of 12 perogies last night (sauerkraut and mushrooms) and will have the same in a bit -- well, half a pack anyway.  I'll have the rest with some halupkis tomorrow.

In a while, I'll call a few relatives.  Q's parents first, then a few back home, and I'll save Fr. Shipley for last today.  It's only about 9 in the AM there in San Diego now.   I'd really wanted to send him some Steele's Fudge which he so loves, but maybe for the New Year.  This evening I'll watch a few  cherished movies:  Meet Me in St. Louis (I always cry myself silly at Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas and snowman scene -- THAT's 'tradition' for me, and it's the only movie that makes me cry) - also Holiday Inn, and A Christmas Story..   Q and I watched those together last year.

Well, what's there to be thankful for this Christmas for me?    I'm celebrating Christ coming into the world to save us.  It's because of Him coming and His eventual sacrifice on earth that my Qbunny and I can hopefully live in God's presence and love forever.  And I guess when you come down to it, that's all the presents you really need.  The picture above is my Qbunny at Henley not too many years ago, when he was still the picture of health.  There's another picture to post, taken this year at Henley, with the two of us, which I have to crop and dink with as I don't have a good photo editor software on this machine yet - so that will have to wait.

Please pray that my Qbunny is now in heaven, and did 99 percent of his purgatory on earth.    I pray I may someday be worthy to join him.  I hope he's having eternal 'jolly boating weather.'
   

Happy Thanksgiving

It's been a long time since I posted.  It's been a rough year for me, some of you already know this, some don't:  I've been in England for a year and a month now.  A fellow blogger, 'Dominic Mary' of Libera-Me-Domine blog and I had fallen in love, and had become engaged.  We didn't tell many people, because though we were engaged, we'd not met in real life, and we didn't want to look foolish if it turned out we were not right for each other -- but we'd talked for hours via Skype every day.   Last October, I came over for a 12 week visit.  Basically, we confirmed we were, in fact, 'right' for each other.  I was due to come back to San Diego, where we'd hoped to be married this last year in summer.  Well, we DID get married, on Jan 31st,  but not the way we'd planned it.

A few days before I was due to leave for home, Quentin was diagnosed with a stage 4 terminal brain cancer.    He'd had an 'episode' of seizure like symptoms over the summer, but allegedly, 'they saw nothing.'  [We'd NEVER gotten to see those scans, after repeated requests.  But believe me, I am going to pursue this under the law and they will have to cough them up, and if there IS something there, I will sue them for every last bedpan, because his treatment was delayed by 6 months when nothing was done, and it might still have been operable.]    The tumor was so large, it was inoperable.  Multiforme glioblastoma.  How long did Q have?  Weeks, months?  50% die within the year with what he had, only 2-3% make it for 2-3 years, if they are very lucky.  If I left the country then, odds were I wouldn't get back in.  There was no way I was leaving him with no one to care for him.  Q had no siblings, no children, and octogenarian parents.  Q had an annulment in progress, but we had to take advantage of a special quirk in English law and get married in the C of E, via special license, and later try and go for a ratiocination in the Catholic church.  To say this made my visa status here complicated is an overwhelming understatement.  It's STILL being sorted out, with the home office finally ruling in our favor, finally figuring out: 'no one decides to get a stage 4 cancer to try and get around the immigration rules...they deserve this on human rights.'    Literally the last day for the home office to appeal the ruling in our favor was the day Q died, Oct 21st.  I should get my stamp 'shortly' though the judge had marked it 'urgent.'

There doesn't seem like there's much for me to celebrate this year.  But there is.  I had Q for exactly a year and a day.  Never once did Q complain of having the cancer.  He'd get frustrated because he had a harder and harder time communicating.  Nominative aphasia, they called it.  I think I got to be with a saint in the making, and I thank God for that gift.

So if you have a loved ones, and family around you this year, give them a special hug, and realize when you least expect it something may happen to them.  Hug them like you were getting to hug them for the last time, because for all anyone knows, it may well be your last Thanksgiving together,  and be thankful they are with you and have graced your life.