The Big Reveal

Pepsi makes an appearance in San Juan

Dear Pepsi,

I finally took a holiday after canceling two trips and went south for sun, sea and laughter with Shakila and Rockelle. They had the trip to San Juan planned for a while, and let me crash the party. I thought I could use some beach time and swimming in the sea. I flew out right after a storm and on the heels of an even bigger one expected to drop a few feet of snow. My flight out of Newark was canceled, therefore I ended up on that horrible 3:15am bus from Portland to Logan Airport. I was recovering from the flu and not in the best shape with congestion and nausea. Of course my flight to Ft. Lauderdale was delayed and a certain misconnect to San Juan. There was a flight to Tampa with an open seat. The connecting flight was coming from San Juan so I would not have to worry about misconnection or getting stuck. I stepped out of the line to give it thought. I was tempted to get back on a Concord Coach to Portland and climb into bed with Pearl and Pandy. Then I thought about Shakila and Rockelle, the sun, sea, and how much I need a break. Okay, I said, I'll take the Tampa option. I took my boarding pass and passed through security, exhausted and queasy, though determined to make it to San Juan. At 5:30pm I touched down in San Juan, 14 hours since leaving Portland.

Full moon rising on San Juan

As soon as I walked out of the airport and felt the warmth, I knew it was the right decision. The flat was a 15 minute taxi ride from the airport, steps from the beach. Shakila and Rock would not arrive until 5am so I was on my own the first night. I dropped my bags, changed into my bathing suit, grabbed a towel and headed to the beach for my first swim. The full moon was beginning to rise, choppy waves rolling onto the shore, and the air temperature balmy. A group of young people speaking English were gathered on the beach, laughing and talking. I asked if they would watch my stuff while I went for a swim and they politely agreed. I dipped my toe in the water and appraised the undertow before taking the plunge. I felt light and happy. As I prepared to dive into the first wave I called out This is for you Peps! If you saw me from a distance, you might have mistaken me for a gleeful child and not a 60 year old woman. I jumped in the waves, letting them crash against me as I thought about how much you would have loved being there - barking to throw you the ball and running into the surf. Everywhere I go I see you, imagine you beside me. Particularly at the sea.

First swim

I fell into a deep sleep at 9pm that night. It was dark and quiet. At 5am Shakila and Rockelle arrived. Shakila had been sick on the plane so they went right to bed and I drifted back to sleep. I felt like I was traveling further and further away from a known reality, floating in an in-between space propelled my subconscious. Thoughts of you reside in every layer. Can you feel me like I feel you? I close my eyes and bring you forth, whispering your name over and over, thinking I will never get used to life without you. The truth is Peps, when you got sick my life was altered and there was no going back. I recalibrated every aspect of my existence, including removing the non essential and even some people. You learn a lot in crisis; who you can count on and as for those you can't depend on, they can be eliminated. Not overtly, but in a subtle easement. Given the gravity of your loss, those who didn't show up are not missed. Space is sometimes best left vacant. I soak up solitude anyway as you well know. You and your sisters have always been satisfying and steady companions. However, this trip to San Juan was not about solitude, it was to invite levity and light into my life with two people I love and who love me in return. Shakila was with me when you were diagnosed and I cannot imagine how I would have managed without her for those first days when it felt like a bomb had exploded. I will always be grateful for her going to the appointments, driving us back from Tufts, and literally holding me up when I fell apart. 

Rockelle, Mom and Shakila

We hit the beach the first day, poured Mimosas into plastic cups, and began what the girls called the "turn up". We laughed, shed a few tears, had deep talks and chattered about nonsense. I baked in the sun, dove in the sea, walked along the beach. We went out for dinner and drinks, strolled along the beach and streets of San Juan. We spoke of you often, and the other doggies as well. I marveled at how I met Shakila as a 14 year old high school freshman, Rena's best friend at Berkeley High School, mentored her through undergrad, her masters and then her PhD. We talk daily and formed our own friendship. She is like my other daughter and she and Rena function like siblings. Despite our closeness, I wondered how we three would do on vacation together. Fortunately it exceeded my expectations and provided me with exactly what I needed. The thing is Peps, I didn't realize how much I needed the break until I actually experienced it. Shakila understood, having been there when you first got sick, how deep my grieving has been and how much I miss you. Tears streamed down our faces when we talked about you, yet in the next breath we were cracking up recounting your diva ways. You are so one of a kind, on that there is no dispute.

Joy

Body surfing 

Something amazing happened on our second day. In the morning I was swimming and as usual, calling your name when diving into waves. I looked up at the sky and asked you to reveal yourself to me. I said I would be patient but I really needed a sign. I miss you Pepsi, and wanted a sign that you hear me calling to you. I was exactly where you are happiest, in the sea jumping the waves. I may have looked like a crazy woman taking to myself, calling out your name but I stopped caring about that a while ago. After a swim I decided to walk along the shore, taking dips as I strolled. I met a Golden Retriever and stopped to chat with the pet parents. He was red like Pandy but built like you. The mom said their other one died of cancer. We shared a knowing look of sadness. The beach is very dog friendly so there were all kinds of dogs chasing balls and frisbees, running into the ocean like you loved to do. When I got back to our chairs, Rockelle and Shakila poured me a plastic cup of wine. All of a sudden Rockelle said, Look at that cloud, it looks just like a dog.  I was turned slightly away from the beach, facing the girls. I looked over my shoulder and after a few seconds, saw it. The cloud was unusual because it was as if it just appeared from behind the other clouds, which were horizontal and this formation was vertical. There was no doubt it was the head and upper part of a dog. I gasped, it was you Peps, telling me you heard me calling to you. Your head was pointed upward, popping out of the water you so love as if to say, I am here mom, look up at the sky, that's where I am now and I am always watching over you, Pearl and Pandy. I never left you in spirit and never will. Rockelle, Shakila and I were stunned. I told them I had been calling to you, asking you to reveal yourself. I said I was patient but you know me better Peps, I am not very patient. The cloud remained about 10 minutes and then ascended, as if to slip back to heaven. We sat there and watched, mezmorized. Pepsi came to visit I said, and they nodded in agreement. Of course she did, Aunt Diane later said when she saw the picture, She loves you. 

I'm here mom, just look up

We went to Old San Juan that evening for drinks and dinner. We couldn't stop taking about the cloud, about you Peps. It was a kind of turning point for me. I felt some of the heaviness lift and a degree of peace. Although the cloud was distant, I felt myself brush against you, hear your heartbeat next to mine. In a weird way, a part of me elevated with you so neither of us has to be without each other. It also bonded Shakila, Rockelle and I to witness your appearance together. It was Rockelle who saw the cloud. I was turned away and might have otherwise missed it. We all need each other, don't we Peps? I would have never gone to San Juan if not for Shakila and Rockelle, and I so needed to be there. It has been years since I laughed that much. I let myself do nothing, sit at the beach for hours lost in thought or sleeping, swimming and body surfing, and sipping drinks with the girls listening to music. I shed some of the sadness I had been carrying around since you and my mom died. I ran into the sea diving head first like I did as a child. I squealed with delight and laughed to myself. I called to you as the waves tossed me about, Pepsi you would love it here! You answered me back, Be happy mom, I need you to laugh again please. Pepsi, you showing up helped me to remember what joy felt like again, the kind I felt with you beside me everyday. 

 Golden Retriever party at Higgins Beach

When I returned to Portland the weather turned mild, by that I mean 56 degrees on the weekend. I took your sisters to Higgins Beach for the first time in a while. We were greeted by a bunch of Goldens. Amazingly, Pearl perked up when she saw them, running and playing with them, even letting Pandy play with her. I haven't seen Pearl so happy since you passed. Pandy didn't get edgy being in a cluster of dogs. There was an 8 week old Golden Doddle puppy and Pearl played with her. It was so sweet, Pearly was kissing her. A hint of spring was tempting everyone, including the doggies who romped in the water. All the pet parents laughed as the dogs chased each other in circles and we lost track of who was who as they swirled around us. I was relieved to see Pearl so willing to participate with other dogs and chase around with Pandy after refusing to play for the past two months. Of course, it was clear she was buoyed by the familiarity of Goldens, one who resembled you. At one point, Pearl and Pandy ran into the water as I filmed them. Pearl paused and looked around. Clearly she was looking for you - it was as if she actually saw you. And perhaps she did. You have a way of making yourself known, and I am sure between the two of you it happens quite often. We are so full of love for you Peps. 

  Pepsi reaching for mom

The days are getting longer as we are nearly rounding the corner of winter. I cannot imagine summer without you at the beach, in the backyard rolling on and ruining my plants, and sitting outside eating dinner with you pawing me to share my food. There is always a space reserved just for you. My heart was broken the day I released your physical self, yet it was patched together just a bit on that beach in San Juan when you revealed yourself to me. I know you hear me baby girl, and in that we have never parted and never will. 

Love you forever and ever,

Mom

Confessions of a Bereaved Mom

The famous pink harness

Dear Pepsi,

I am on my way back from New Orleans. It was nearly a year ago when I last visited with Jonathan. It was his first time and we stayed with Amanda at her house in St. Roch. You remember Amanda? Heidi’s friend who visited us in Maine several times and has joined our “pack”. Jonathan and I explored the city together, as well as as spending time with Amanda, Heidi and David. I love New Orleans, it feels like the closest thing to being in West Africa; however, as with many other cities, the gentrification is changing neighborhood compositions and driving up prices. Still, there is a flavor to the city expressed in shotgun houses bursting with color, stately homes restored to perfection, and houses with peeling exteriors that refuse to give up, sometimes within blocks of each other. The food, music, art, and history are a unique aspect of the American narrative of race, class and how we are mixed and segmented at the same time. I met a really sweet Golden Retriever, his dad Brett takes him everywhere and he is adored by neighborhood folks and strangers alike. I smothered him with kisses and he licked my face. Oh Peps, I miss you so much, still.

Pandy and Pearl in one of your favorite spots 

I read this article about how hard it is to loose a pet - https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/out-the-ooze/201701/getting-over-rover-why-our-grief-over-dog-is-so-intense . It felt good to be validated. Your loss is more than I can describe and I continue to tear up at the mention of your name. When I saw David and Suzanne at the St Roch Market I started crying when they asked how I was doing. The thing is most times I appear fine. I function, talk, walk, and work, even laugh and have some good times but my heart is shattered. I am always on the verge of tears, swallowing my words rather than release them. Does it sound like I don't love Pearl and Pandy? Because I do, with all my heart, it’s just an incomplete circle without you. And I have never met anyone like you Peps. The truth is I have never cried for anyone as much as I have for you. I am devastated and the article helped me understand why, and that I am not alone.

Always at the top pf the pillows

Peps, lately I have been flooded with memories of places I lived, before you and with you. I was a skinny 19-year old wandering the narrow streets of Jerusalem, sketching and writing in small notebooks and scraps of paper. A few years later I was back, this time near Tel Aviv, riding buses to help me think, painting in old bomb shelter and slamming down my can of spray adhesive to make mice scatter. I sat at the shore of the Red Sea in Sinai, where the desert and the aqua blue water meet, painting watercolors on rice paper. Colors of the mountains changed by the hour. I read paperbacks and wrote in a journal in small cursive. I was on the precipice of something great but unsure of myself. Truth is I was afraid if I realized my potential I would end up alone. That led me to populate my life with people and abandon my plans to attend Art Students League in NYC. Don’t get me wrong girl, it ended up okay, and my life has been a wonderful adventure despite the ups and downs. I had a great family, traveled the world with and without my kids, continued to paint and accomplished a fair amount for myself and others. And I got to be with you.

Mom on the island 

Remember when I went on my annual sojourn to the Greek island of Folegandros and you went on a hunger strike? Rena told me you stopped eating for a few days. She was frantically trying to get you to eat, making boiled chicken (we weren’t doing raw then) and coaxing you as best she could with treats. You weren’t having it. Eventually hunger took over and you caved. Whenever I took out a suitcase you started to ignore me, showing your displeasure. When I got home you could not contain your joy; however, a few minutes later you would give me the cold shoulder for a while to ensure I felt sufficiently bad for leaving you. That was our routine for over ten years and I came to expect it. The other dogs never held it against me but not you Peps, you were going to punish me. Leaving the island was always hard; however, I knew I was coming home to you and that was a saving grace. Your many quirks were always accommodated. You often opted to sleep in the guest room but always came to my bed, frequently in the middle of the night. You pawed the edge of the bed to announce your arrival, I rolled over and smoothed the bed for you as if I was required to entice you to get in. We all catered to you and your diva ways.

 Mom and Peps

Since you have been gone it is like we are living a half-life. Half laughter. Vacant spaces. There is always a feeling of incompleteness. It is in Pearl’s eyes. Pandy used to follow you around and land wherever you decided to be. I have a few confessions Peps, and don’t laugh. When I get Pearl and Pandy’s harness and leash for a walk I pause to touch your pink harness and kiss it. I close my eyes sometimes and inhale your smell, pause to think of you before getting your sisters ready for their walk. I look through the picture book Shakila made of you and touch the photos. I bring the book to my face and kiss your picture. Pearl senses a change in mood whenever I whisper your name or hold the book close. She comes over to kiss me, check in and make sure I am okay. But of course we are not, none of us are. We are reeling still and that is that.

Last April I went to the Portland Museum to see a film by Laurie Anderson, Heart of A Dog.  The film is a meditative artistic expression on death and other forms of loss. It focuses on the death of her dog and mother. I was moved and inspired by the film. I decided to start Project60, sixty paintings in sixty months and a blog to chronicle the lead up to my 60th birthday. http://paulagerstenblattproject60.blogspot.com I wrote regularly in the blog, particularly when I was on the island for four weeks last summer. Then I returned to the States and my mother died. My work took a turn. I thought, wrote and painted about her death. Not long after you were diagnosed with cancer and I dropped Project60 to care for you and began the Pepsi Diaries blog. I could have never known on that April night as I sat silently in the theater contemplating Anderson’s film that I would be faced with the same losses before my 60^th birthday. I have since considered the powerful statement she makes in the film, “The connection between love and death… and the purpose of death is the release of love”.  Peps I am trying to find a softer spot to land on; to be bolder, kinder, and to love deeper as a result of your loss. To pay tribute to you and to my mom by being more generous, honest, and overall a better person. I feel as if I am falling short, eclipsed by my sadness. In these times, I know more is required of me and I am trying to show up. But the fact remains you are not here to cushion the daily blows or celebrate the magic. I know it is all still there, and I feel it when I glance in a direction to include you. It is then I encounter the hole in my heart. I hope you are not disappointed in me Peps, but who else can I confess to if not you? I guess it’s why I cannot conclude this blog yet, and why I keep writing to you. We are not done you and I, and every time I bury my face in your harness and kiss your picture I am releasing love, hoping it reaches you wherever you are.

Love and miss you,

Mom