Tonight, I really am way too tired to update much at all – I have not yet gotten our pictures up, and this is day two in our neighborhood, and there are no snowplows. It is a tiny bit surreal at this point. try to walk across the street, and you are up past your knees in snow.
Again, I am handing it over to the reporters to give the news.
Just click on the picture, below.
By Kelly Mahan Jaramillo, Feb.6th, 2010
Okay, I am tired, so this is going to be short. We woke up and had to dig ourselves out of the house, then went and helped our neighbors dig themselves out. The young woman who, with her brother, had just bought the house three down from us, was all alone, her brother stranded at home with the rest of the family.
She was staring forlornly at the beautiful antique style lawn lamp, which had fallen victim to a snow heavy branch. Then her gaze went to another fallen branch on her property, which was on top of the power lines. All five of us stared nervously at the branch for about a minute.
“I called Duquesne Light, but they said they already had 17,000 customers with no power, so they would get here as soon as they could,” she sighed, maneuvering her way around another fallen branch.
“Um,” I volunteered, “is this something that the five of us can handle? Or are we supposed to….”
A resounding NO! sliced the rest of my sentence cleanly off, for which I was extremely grateful. I may act like a bad-ass that can do anything, but when it comes to electricity, I am a total wimp. I was either struck by lightning, or a career criminal in another life, put to death by the electric chair, because honestly, I flinch any time I have to plug something into an electric socket. It’s that bad.
We all shoveled for about three hours, no snowplows came, no Duquesne Light came, and we did our best to clear away as much as we could, but bottom line? No one was going anywhere, and at the time of this writing, Tomás and I are exhausted, eyeing the branch that lies across the power lines with extremely nervous eyes – all it will take is one gust of wind, and if that power line snaps – we are without light, heat, and the temperature is going down as I write this. The low tonight is going to be 5 degrees. Believe me, I am glad that Duquesne Light is working for the people who have no power right now. We are second priority, and that is okay. I feel terrible for anyone who has no heat tonight. Luckily for them, and for all of us, Pittsburgh is a city that cares about it’s residents, and there are many people right now working tirelessly to help the folks who have no power. I sleep better knowing that.
My silly joke is that dinner is a bottle of Aleve with a side dish of Advil, but I will be honest – this has been amazing, and the sheer beauty of it is worth the hard work and worry. We have many pictures to share, but not tonight.
Tonight I turn it over to the reporters, so if you are interested, here is todays headline in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Just click on the picture below and the article will open up.
I will have some more pictures up in the next day or so.
Before I fall into bed I have to trot over to Mudflats for my nightly fix, so until we reconvene,
Goodnight, everyone.
By Kelly Mahan Jaramillo, Feb 5th, 2010
I am going to make this quick, as, since it started snowing over twelve hours ago, and has not stopped. We have had an active weather alert for the last forty-eight hours, and have been preparing for it, but things are getting quietly intense. I have to make this short, as all around our house, tree branches heavy with snow are cracking and falling, hitting the power lines, causing multiple brown outs.
This is happening about every ten minutes, so methinks it is time to shut everything down and huddle under the covers.
However, here are a few quick shots from the kitchen balcony and the front porch.
The backyard, at about 4 this afternoon
The side yard, at about ten p.m.
The Volvo slowly gets buried, as the pine tree branches droop lower and lower
And yes, those are the power lines right in front of the house.
This is so breathtakingly beautiful, I could stay up all night. I do not think I will ever get tired of a heavy snowfall. The silence is nothing short of magical.
I am in the process of moving forward from the posts below, and I realized today is my brother, Kerrigan Mahan’s birthday. I woke up feeling good today, for the first time since Rosa died, and then saw the date.
Kerrigan and I have not crossed paths in a number of years, but I think of him often, and I felt that since today was the first day I woke up without the stone of sadness on my chest, I wanted to say hello and Happy Birthday to Kerrigan. It feels like a good way to move forward, write a new post, say a long overdue hi to someone I love who is alive and this is the day they were born.
Why the hell not?
It is kind of funny, my ex-niece-in-law has a birthday in late January, my long ago best friend, now deceased, had a birthday in late January, and Kerry’s birthday is in late January. Years ago, when everyone was in my life at once, no matter what I did, I could not keep it straight – who was January 21st, who was the 24th, and who was the 27th? I would just run around for a week saying Happy Birthday to all three until the week was over.
Getting older is interesting – the people who fall away, the people who die, the things we remember, and of course the things we forget. That disconcerting fact of being so aware of my age, yet I do not feel or act 47, and I can pretty much guarantee you that Kerrigan does not feel his age, either. Is this guy acting like he turned 55 today? (Sorry the picture is so small, but believe me, he is acting like a fifteen year old on ten cups of coffee).
Of course, his job for many years was being this guy:
I am not sure if this is “Goldar” or “Magna Defender” – but really, how much fun could it have been to be the villain on the original “Power Rangers” - roar at people into a microphone and get paid! Sign me up!
My brother is a character voice over actor, and this is not bias speaking, I have had many people come up to me and tell me he is one of the best. He is multi-talented, we were in a play he directed years ago, and he was an excellent director working with difficult actors – myself being one of them. He is an accomplished screenwriter, and on occasion, an on-camera character actor.
I could go on about him, but it might start to get too long, and I did not start this post to write my brother’s resume – if you would like to read about Kerrigan go to:
where you can find out more. I think his web page is a bit behind, like Tomás and mine are – but you can get a sense of his body of work.
This started out a simple Happy Birthday, and so I am going to wrap it up with that.
Happy Birthday, Ker. I love you.
Wellsey
Grief is so unpredictable. I really appreciate the counselors and therapists who specialize in grief, and who came up with ways of coping, and the Seven Stages, which are pretty spot on, considering that everyone deals with grief in their own personal way.
I think we can safely say that my last post was Stage Three, the “Anger” Stage. Or is that Stage Two? The Internet has so many answers, and none of them really agree, but that’s cool. We know for certain there are stages we go through when grieving, one of them is Anger, and…….that’s about it.
So, whatever Stage Number that “Depression and Anxiety, mixed with spontaneous bouts of crying” is, that is the one we are in today. Well, I am. Tomás still seems to be grappling with the logic of it all, and finds it sorely lacking. For all of my confusion on the exact emotion correlating with a number, I do not think what he is going through has been assigned a number yet. Perhaps the Stages are a work in progress.
I feel kind of bad about the fit I had on the last post, but that is how I felt, and I will probably feel that way again. Even in the grey, shaky worried state of today, a few good clean shards of anger made their way through. Just enough to remind me that I am alive. Even though it was over something completely stupid, like dropping a freshly laundered shirt on the basement floor. Really not such a large action as to be worthy of the torrent of cursing that ensued.
At least I don’t feel so guilty that I am compelled to apologize to the laundry. Not that far gone, yet.
I had a good therapist many years ago, who informed me that with every new loss, the pain from every previously loss comes back in your face like a sledgehammer. She is right. I am dreaming about family, friends, and animals long gone, love long gone, friendships long gone, houses and apartments long gone – I am waking up in the morning not quite sure why I should get out of bed.
There is a faint, hopeful voice that if I strain, I can hear snatches of sentences telling me that I have every reason in the world to get out of bed. It is a new day, and you never know what a new day will bring.
Forgive my wariness, little voice. Haven’t really come to grips with what the last new day brought.
I wonder what number we will be on tomorrow? It is 9 p.m. on Saturday. Maybe I am being a little hasty thinking about tomorrow. Maybe I’ll just see what each inhalation and exhalation morphs into before assigning it a name, number, or place in line.
It is all over now. The memorial was beautiful, I felt naked and oddly ashamed. I wanted to get out of there.
Then I felt terrible about how I felt.
I dove to the bottom of my own angry pond, and found out that if I spoke about how I felt, it might not have a place in the church, no matter how amazing and wonderful I find the Unitarian Church to be.
I do not care that the priest is a woman, I do not care that all are welcome, I do not care because everybody is so full of love and joy from the “Universe” and “Spirit” – I feel that if I do not stick a plastic face on, I will start screaming.
I am one of many who was so glad there was going to be a memorial in Pittsburgh, in Rosa’s Church – interestingly, the first time my mother found Spirit, it was through the Unitarian Church.
Blessings, blessings.
Blessings from who? Or what?
She is at peace now, I am told.
She is re-united with Spirit, I am told.
I want to vomit.
I cannot believe that I am bitching about the only religious institution I would even give a glance to, but I have to ask………
HOW the fuck does anyone know that Rosa is at peace? She had joined Spirit?
How can anyone say that they know this? Can anyone imagine otherwise, like maybe she wants to do some Tai Chi, or she might want to visit with her friends, work with her clients, spend time with her family? She might want to cook a meal, play with her kitties. She might be mad as hell!
She might be screaming, “I went to bed and did not wake up? Fuck THAT!”
I want somebody to stand at the pulpit who is not spouting “God works in mysterious ways”, or “She is One with Spirit now”
I want somebody to have doubt, to say, we do not know if Rosa was ready to go – she had such amazing energy, so many plans, plus, she had a fucking family, for chrissake!
My father was told he was going to die, in a matter of weeks. He accepted that, joked about it, and then died. His friends and children had a chance to spend two weeks with him, lucky us. I guess that Spirit was being nice. Or Lazy.
I am not an agnostic, nor atheist. Well, the more I think about it, at this point, agnostic seems to fit, as this well intentioned, smiling sermon did not give me closure. And it is not the fault of the Church, the pastor, the sermon, or any of the lovely people who attended.
There is something in me that was not interested in peace or closure, it simply did not penetrate, and I was trying very, very hard. I still am, but natch, so far.
I am left with questions, sadness, anger.
This is my place to vent, and at some point I hope to find peace.
But I can tell you, any peace I find will not be through the tired, meaningless, over-said, over-done platitudes of any religion. I guess I am choosing the hard unknown path – a lot of sharp rocks and strange sounds in the night.
It is the only way I know how to do things.
Acceptance will probably show up masked as exhaustion, but for me, it shows the most respect to be honest about how I feel, and not pretend to accept and be at peace with any of this – to do otherwise would not be respectful to the people who do have faith.
It is hard enough to envy those who have faith, but worse to pretend, just to fit in.
I wonder how long this stage of the grieving process will be?
The below was sent to me by Nina Thomson, Rosa’s daughter. It will appear in this Sunday’s Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Nina also included this picture. What more can be said?
There is a link to the Post-Gazette, below, if you wish to view and comment at the paper.
Rosita Gamarra-Thomson April 5th 1946 - Dec 16th, 2009
Rosa Gamarra-Thomson
The minute we saw her face, Tomás and I knew we had found the person we needed to see. We assumed Rosa was going to be in our life forever. We were wrong, she was in our lives for barely five months.
Rosa’s daughter Nina wrote a comment on the last post, I am re-printing it here, along with the details of the Pittsburgh Memorial Service for Rosa, and a personal message/confession from me at the bottom.
But first – Nina:
“This is Nina, Rosa’s daughter. Thank you for the condolences. We are just amazed at all the lives my mother touched. We will miss her dearly — she has gone too soon.
Rosa Marcelina Gamarra-Thomson (this was her full name) passed away in her sleep while visiting family in New Jersey on Decemer 16, 2009. Though this was terribly unexpected, we are thankful that she was with family and that she seemed to have enjoyed several happy days visiting, talking, cooking and reminiscing with them. My father, Mark, and I are back in Pittsburgh now after traveling to see my mother one last time and make arrangements for her cremation in New Jersey, as this is what she wanted. We had a small gathering of mostly family in New Jersey at the funeral home and later at a cousins home, but we are planning a larger memorial service / celebration of her life for all those who would like to attend here in Pittsburgh.
We are still making the arrangements, but we are trying for sometime in the week between Christmas and New Years, hopefully at the First Unitarian Church in Shadyside, which is the church we attended while I was growing up. Rev. Renee Waun, a dear friend of my mother’s and the family will do the service. Another dear friend Jen Trout is helping us to organize the memorial and celebration of her life. We will post an obituary in the paper, but as this seems like another good place to disseminate information, perhaps you could post the information here as well.
I am also trying to collect photos and memories, stories and thoughts of my mom for ourselves and also to share at the memorial service — these can be sent to my e-mailninathomson@yahoo.com or posted to my mom’s facebook page or brought to the service.
Thank you again.”
Today I spoke with Rosa’s husband Mark, and he gave me the full details of the service, to be posted here.
Rosa’s Pittsburgh service will be Saturday, January 2nd, at 11 a.m., at the First Unitarian Church in Shadyside.
The address is 605 Morewood Avenue.
Tomás and I will be attending, and we are thankful to Mark and Nina for having a secondary service here in Pittsburgh. I can only speak for myself, but I have come to realize that I need the closure, and I need other people, and a sense of a spiritual ritual, to help me come to terms with this.
A small comfort when I was talking with Mark – he said the night before, Rosa had been having a wonderful time with her family members, cooking, talking, they went to a movie, and stayed up until 1:30 a.m., still talking. When she went to bed she was fine, and when she was found in the morning, her face was completely peaceful.
For me, it was a very good thing to hear, that she did not wake up in some kind of pain or distress, unable to get help. Her face was at peace, she simply died. As flattened as we are all to hear the news, the unselfish part of me is so glad that she went with no pain. We should all be so lucky.
Since this is my place to write, I am going to admit something that I have been terribly ashamed of since the news hit. Rosa had come up with an idea for Tomás and myself to be able to see her at a little less cost – a “package” of 5 visits, that would wind up costing a little bit less than 5 individual visits. We had used three of our sessions, and we were holding back until after the holidays to use the next two, feeling very good to know that we had “money in the bank” if we needed to see Rosa in an emergency, but may not have the money when the emergency hit.
Even though she probably would have said “pay me when you can”, knowing her, it still felt good to have, as all of us, Rosa included, called it, “Rosa Insurance”. She got a kick out of that.
Just last week, we had both been feeling a little stressed, snappish, slightly depressed, creatively blocked, and we agreed the minute the holidays were over, we were going to use our “Rosa Insurance” – we needed a tune-up, big time.
When it became true that she had died, I am ashamed to admit, my first thought was, “But, but, what about ME? What about US? We need to see her!”
This is not about money, it is about my first thought being completely self-centered, the word revolved around me, and the universe just took something away from me. Me, me me me me.
I am actually sweating because I am so embarrassed to be writing this, but they say that shame cannot live in the light of day. I have been holding this in, and the shame refuses to let in any joy or light, which is completely contrary to what Rosa taught, and I feel that until I can acknowledge this shame and put it to bed, I will not be able to move forward.
I feel like a two-year old, crying for the moon, I want, I want, I want. I do not want the money, I want a session with Rosa. For the last four days, this two year old has intermittently been bursting into tears with her demands, and the adult me wants to strangle her.
Rosa had been guiding me into how to be my own parent, a good parent, and no matter how much I try to shut this crying child up, or reason with her that there are other people who are grieving, a husband, a daughter, other family members who had a life with her, she just won’t stop. I need Rosa to help me with this brat, and, well, Rosa has gone onto the next adventure.
So, my few readers, I just wanted to let you in on what is shaping up to be a problem that would probably cause Rosa to laugh her head off.
If anyone else is dealing with a similar mortifying side of their personality that they wish would just disappear, you are not alone. I open the comments sections to all of the other crying two-year olds out there who are feeling like someone was just really, really mean to them.
As clammy and humiliated as I feel finishing this up, I also feel a sliver of daylight cutting into my psyche, and I think that two-year old might have just turned……five or six.
It’s a start.
We hope to see everyone Saturday, January 2nd, at 11 a.m.
Happy Winter Solstice – you are, indeed, the darkest night of the year, the longest one I have ever felt. Rosa burns bright throughout this long evening, in the crunch of the snow, the drip of the icicles. Her warmth is still swirling like a tornado.
Goodnight everyone.
Kelly
POST UPDATED AS OF MIDNIGHT, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 19TH, 2009
For anyone needing information on Rosa, please go to the “Comments” below, and scroll down to the 7th one – it is from her daughter Nina, and she is giving the information of her mother’s untimely passing. I will be using this blog to keep people updated as best as I can concerning a memorial service here in Pittsburgh, but tonight, rather than re-post Nina’s comment, I will start fresh tomorrow, and post information as soon as I get it. Please forgive my inability to write a new post tonight – words are not coming easily, and exhaustion is hitting like a sledgehammer.
If you are in Pittsburgh, please drive carefully, and for everyone who knew and loved Rosa, we are all in mourning, and Tomás and I send out our thoughts and prayers to everybody in Rosa’s immediate family, extended family, and network of clients, friends, teachers, students, and her new little kittens.
POST UPDATED, SEE BOTTOM.
Hello to everyone who has hit the post I wrote for Rosa with the Bruce Springsteen cartoon.
I received an e-mail this morning from a woman I do not know named Michele Feingold, who informed me that Rosa had died. The e-mail reads:
Dear Kelly,
My husband Victor Ruiz learned tonight in an email from Victor Beltran that Rosa had died. He knew and liked her very much, while I think I had only seen her on one or two occasions. He googled her and found your blog. We wanted to tell you how sorry we are about the death of someone you clearly love deeply. Victor (Ruiz) included a link to your post in an email he just sent out to members of the Latin American Cultural Union.
May you find comfort, and thank you for your blog.
Michele Feingold
I immediately called Rosa’s cell and home phone, left messages, and wrote back to this mysterious Michele. I received an automated yahoo mail response, stating that if I knew Michele, please write to her at work. As I do not know Michele, I cannot write to her at work.
My post on Rosa has gotten over 50 hits, and it is only two o’clock. I am very distraught, I do not know what to do – do I drive to her house? If this is true, and her family is in mourning, do they really want one of her clients/friends showing up at the door? I do not know how I would feel if the situation were reversed.
Please, the next person that looks up Rosa, will you please leave a comment, either at this post or the “I think we are starting to Spark” video post? If you know anything, please write to me here, or drop me an e-mail at:
monkeyrat@kellymahanjaramillo.com.
Please. I have none of her contacts, I know her daughter’s first name is Nina – I have been wearing a pair of Nina’s old corduroys for a week, now – but I have never met Nina, and I do not know her last name.
I have been spending the better half of the morning thinking this is a misunderstanding, or some kind of cruel joke, but as the day wears on, as I keep digging on the Internet as the phone stays silent, it is starting to feel real.
Again, if you know anything, please tell me.
Thank you,
Kelly Mahan Jaramillo and Tomás Hradcky
UPDATE AS OF 4:45 PM.
Tomas found the community where Victor Bertrand and Rosa both sang in the choir, and that connection was quite obvious. I wrote Mr. Betrand an e-mail, in that horrible grey area of wanting answers and not wanting answers. Still praying it was a mistake, or some cruel prank.
I received an e-mail back from Michelle Feingold, a lovely, touching and heartbreaking e-mail confirming that yes, it seems that Rosa died while visiting relatives in New Jersey. This was the information she and her husband had received from Victor Bertrand, and at this point this is all anybody knows. It appears that Mr. Bertrand will be helping with the funeral services and arrangements.
I wish to write about Rosa, and how, in the short time that Tomas and I knew her, she changed our lives in ways we could not imagine, and all for the better, but right now I can barely type.
Tomas and I wish to extend our sympathies to Mark, Nina and her husband, and everyone else who was touched by Rosa. It seems like such a hollow expression, and I am sorry I cannot come up with something more meaningful, something worthy of such a rare, wonderful bird as was Rosa. I will try tomorrow.
Thank you Michele Feingold and Victor Ruiz for finding me, and your kindness in contacting me.
There will be more on Rosa when I am not blurred with shock and tears. Below is Victor Betrands announcement to the community:
A la comunidad latina y peruana en Pittsburgh:
Amigos, con gran dolor les informo que nuestra querida amiga Rosa Gamarra Thomson fallecio anoche en New Jersey donde estaba visitando familiares. Mark, su esposo, que por su trabajo vive en North Carolina esta en estos momentos viajando a Pittsburgh. Nina, su hija, me informara sobre el funeral y yo les pasare la informacion.
Que en Paz descanse.
Esperanza Inverso
I am serious, I would like whomever is on this blog to watch the video below all the way through, and tell me how you felt after it. Thanks.
