Hello, friends!
Another long week in the books. Was at work late almost every day, especially Wednesday since we had one of our monthly staff meetings. G’s school had Open House on Thursday so we were out a little later than normal. Then yesterday, Pamela texted me while I was at school to inform me that we’d be going to get our Covid and flu shots when I got home.
Thanks to Massachusetts Governor Maura Healey, everyone in Massachusetts over the age of 5 can get a Covid shot and it’ll be covered. She announced this the other day and Pamela got us in ASAP. It never would’ve been a problem for me because the of the immunosuppressant medication I’m on, but Pamela and G wouldn’t have been able to get one. Since they live with me and we all spend a lot more time around my 84-year-old father, the vaccine is a must.
I’m a little tired from it today, as well as an ass-kicking week, but I’m vaxxed.
Welcome to the 138th installment of Gauthic Times, the newsletter about my writing, my life, and the strangeness of grief and loss. If you’re a reader who subscribes via Substack, my website, or Patreon, your encouragement helps motivate me. I’m not breaking any records but I’m thankful to have any audience.
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Another week of very little writing work, unfortunately. I had the ability to work on the books last weekend since it was a three-day one, and then Tuesday night I got to do a little because Pamela and G were out and I found the energy.
My main focus is going through my novel, Project: Monster, for publication. While the book hasn’t officially been announced (that I know of), I don’t really want to do it now but I guess I can give you the title of the book: The Monster in the Closet.
I’ll be writing more about the novel as we get closer to publication but for now, I need to finish going through it.
Project: Moons saw only around 700 words added to the book since I only worked on it last Saturday and then Tuesday night. I can’t wait to get more settled into the school year so I can return to writing every day. I miss it.
I also revised Project: Amusement Park a little.
Despite the school year taking my energy from writing, I still try to add a Daily Check-In on Patreon every day. I don’t always succeed but I make an effort. Patrons not only get the Daily Check-In, but they get the titles of my works-in-progress as I work on them and other things (time permitting, unfortunately). You may want to check it out if you subscribe to this newsletter and enjoy it.
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I really wanted to write something funny for today, maybe tell one of the classic Billy/Bill stories of something stupid/funny/horrific that I’ve done or said. Life didn’t play along. I’m in a somewhat pensive mood. For about three weeks, I was having stress dreams that took place at the school I teach at. Every night was mired by conflict, stress, and unhappiness. In other words, the daily experience without any of the good things about teaching. Then on Tuesday night, I finally didn’t have a work-related stress dream. Instead, I dreamed of moving my father. A different stress dream. In the dream, I was specifically going through my mother’s stuff, like I had to this summer. I’ve been thinking a lot about her and how much I miss her. That day, a friend/colleague lost their father, who is also the father-in-law of another colleague. It brought the pain back.
In the dream, I was in a place that I guess was supposed to be my father’s place, though it looked different than any of the places we’ve ever been, and I was going through my mother’s belongings. As I’ve written here in the past, when she died in February 2019, I didn’t immediately go through everything and clean out like I should have. My sister was unavailable since she lives almost 1,200 miles away and going through Mom’s things, I discovered quickly, was painful.
That summer, my father-in-law was diagnosed with brain cancer and we lost him around Veteran’s Day that year. Needless to say, it was difficult to deal with the things that needed to be dealt with. G was in kindergarten when Mom died and in first grade when my father-in-law passed. Going through everything just seemed daunting. And then Covid came.
Again, I’ve written about this here before and I’m sure you can find the essays or mentions if you’re interested. The dream brought me back to this summer when the job was finally getting done. Not only was the move difficult because moving sucks, but it was difficult because I finally had to face going through my mother’s belongings and the important and personal things I found. Note from when she was 17 that she took when her brother died. Letters from people apologizing. A folder of dirty jokes because of course she had that. It brought a lot up.
Then, I just signed a contract for the novel I was working on when she died, a novel that will be dedicated to her and always would have been. I used her as a basic template for a mother in the novel (though the mother in the novel is not her). I remember thinking she’d either love being used as a template or hate it and was looking forward to finding out. I was barely into the novel when she passed. Going through the book for publication has brought back those memories.
And now my friends/colleagues’ father’s death. It brings it home.
I found out he was the same age as my mother, born only around eight months after her to the day. Seeing the pain, the confusion, the loss brings it back. People will try to comfort but there’s really nothing that can be said. That mountain that you saw every day no matter where you were is suddenly gone, a gap looking at the sky in the place where it once stood. You grow accustomed to the hole where the mountain was but you never get used to it. Reminders come at odd times of just how much that mountain meant.
I’m six years away from losing Mom and I’m feeling the loss more now than I did in 2019. It’s a lot but it’s good, too. It means that I haven’t hardened to it. It means I was loved. It means that all of us who’ve dealt with this can get through. The pain and sadness remind us of the happiness. That dirty joke folder I found is here in my apartment. I couldn’t bear to throw it away. Someday I’ll really look through it and I’ll laugh. I’ll listen to her Beatles albums and dance. I’ll think of the things I loved and the things that annoyed me and everything else and it’ll be sad but happy, too.
And that’s what I wish for my loved ones who’ve lost and will lose someone they love. Feel the pain because it will bring the joy, too.
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Gautham: Bill Gauthier.com 
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