It's been a while since I have posted here. It has not been for lack of trying. I actually have a post sitting in my draft folder that I typed up on the 10 month anniversary of mom's death. But it didn't feel like it was from the heart. It felt forced as though I was simply supposed to post that day. And so I never published it.
However, a lot has been going on in my head in the past few weeks and I feel compelled to get a little of it down here. Our family had another cancer scare that shook us all up. Thankfully, the outcome was a good one, but boy did it bring up a lot of stuff! A year ago, Olly was in California with his dying grandmother. This Friday will be a year since she died. I can't believe it's been a year since that time in our lives. It was a surreal place to live. The world going on around us while everything else seemed to be in slow motion and falling apart. Things were getting bad with mom again too. We all knew things were changing, no matter how much we had all hoped for a miracle.
The weather is changing here. Fall is coming. It has occurred to me that with every fall for likely the rest of my life, a lot of emotions will be stirred in my soul. As the days became shorter and the nights became longer, my mom's life was ending and then she was gone. I am feeling the loss more deeply as these days are changing. And a part of my brain is living in a year ago. It's as though I am reliving it in certain ways.
A week ago I started my 2nd year of school. It took me right back to a year ago as I started my 1st two classes and how terrified I was, but how I knew it was time. And then 6 weeks into my first term, mom died. And yet, here I am a year later, having completed 12 classes with 11 more to go. I'm carrying a 3.95 GPA. Gosh, how proud of me mom would be.
I can't explain how many times I've wanted to stop. Right now I am incredibly frustrated with school having gone 17 straight weeks with 15 more to go before I get a break. I am burnt out. I am actually writing here instead of staring at a blank page on my screen while trying to come up with words to put together yet another paper. I actually love the process of learning, but the workload is incredible and overwhelming some days.
But in the back of my head, I hear my mom. I hear her telling me that I can do this. And I know she is right. But how I wish I could call her and hear the support in her voice. I miss her a lot. I miss just simply having my mom to call to remind me how smart and strong I am when I forget.
The last year was so life changing for me. The next year will include more life changes. In 10 months, I will have my Bachelor's Degree. In 11 months, I will retire from Doula work and start a new career at the same time I start my Masters program. I'm currently working on buying a house which is amazing accomplishment after all that I have been through. I have crawled back up from a really low point about 5 years ago. I have started over. I have never given up. Not even when my mom died. Instead, I pushed even harder. Some people think I push too hard. And maybe I do. But it's who I am and I am proud of my accomplishments. But some of that pushing is likely a defense mechanism. I have not slowed down since mom died. And part of me knows it's because I'm scared that in slowing down, I will have to "feel" more. I don't have time to feel right now. Believe me, I have my moments. But so much of the busy work in my life is exhausting and frustrating and overwhelming....and yet, it keeps me moving forward. It keeps me going on and it doesn't allow me time to stop and think and feel. As exhausting as school has been, it has helped me survive the last year.
Mom and dad's 52nd anniversary is coming up. It is yet another first we have to get through this year. After that, it's the 1st anniversary of mom's death. And then we can all say we survived the first year.
But what does that mean really? I have survived nearly 11 months without my mom. I know I can live without her. But I still hate it. I still find myself in tears in my car sometimes. Not as often as I used to, but it has picked up again as this time of year has revived a lot of emotions and memories.
I decided that I'm going to spend some time printing off all these blog posts and compile them all into some sort of book so that I will always have them and my kids will have them. This blog has been a year and a half of my life and my journey into loss and grief and finding pieces of myself through finding pieces of my mom and the journey towards forgiveness and letting go. I want my kids to understand it some day.
I don't know that I'll ever have another year like the past one. In some ways I hope I never do, but in other ways, the growth that came with it has been powerful. I have said it over and over, I am not the same person I was before that day that the phone call came that dropped me to my knees. And although, there was something nice about that world before my mom got sick, I have to admit, I'd never truly felt as alive as I have felt since her diagnosis. I have had to LIVE each day. To feel each moment. It likely contributes to my exhaustion. But it is important.
If you watched the Emmy's you may have seen Jewel sing a song during the Memoriam portion. She said it was a song she wrote for someone she loved who died from cancer. Of course, it tore at my heartstrings and I have downloaded it to my phone and I listen to it often when I need a good cry. It talks of September. It talks of children having children of their own. It is beautiful and it is though she wrote it for me. Today, I'm ending this post with those lyrics because they say exactly what I feel.
The Shape Of You
September settled softly.
Leaves are starting to fall.
I recall the last time you were here
your laughter a melody that lingers still.
There's a hole in my heart
and I carry it wherever I go.
Like a treasure that travels
with me down every road.
There's this longing lonesome ending.
Kind of bitter, kind of sweet.
There's a hole in my heart
in the shape of you.
Time steals so swiftly.
Children having children of their own
and around life's merry-go round goes
And there you are wanting what you cannot hold.
There's a hole in my heart
and I carry it wherever I go
like a treasure that travels
with me down every road.
There's this longing lonesome ending
kind of bitter, kind of sweet.
There's a hole in my heart
in the shape of you.
Even though my heart aches
there's a smile on my face
cause just like a window to heaven
there's a light shining through.
There's a hole in my heart
and I carry it wherever I go
like a treasure that travels
with me down every road.
There's this longing lonesome ending.
Kind of bitter, kind of sweet.
There's a hole in my heart.
There's a hole in my heart.
There's a hole in my heart
in the shape of you.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
9 months
Three quarters of a year. It's still sort of surreal for me. I can't believe I've lived in this world for three quarters of a year without my mom. And I'm okay. I get up every morning. I work hard. I enjoy my children. I laugh. I cry. The sun comes up and the sun sets. The world keeps rotating. I'm okay. But I still miss mom every day. And this world that I live in has never been, and never will be, the same world as the one I lived in before my mom was gone.
People told me that it would not feel as raw as it did nine months ago, and they were right. They also told me that it would still hurt now and then. Sometimes more than others. They were right about that too. Not a day goes by that I don't think about my mom, but for the most part the raw pain over the incredible loss has been replaced with just a general sadness. Yet, there are days, like today, when it all bubbles to the surface again.
The anniversaries are hard. I expect that after the first year, I'll no longer be marking every month like we all seem to do the first year. Maybe we mark those months to show ourselves that we're getting through. I think a lot about "what I was doing a year ago". July wasn't so bad. Mom was still feeling good. We were all feeling hopeful. I do remember though as the Croatian picnic was looming, mom said she couldn't go. I think everyone was hoping she would make it, but she confided to me on the phone that she had a dream that she lost my dad at the picnic and it scared her. Even though we were all feeling hopeful, the cancer was still inside and it was slowly killing her. Little things like this reminded me of that.
This weekend is the Croatian picnic. Dad is going this year. It will actually be the first year that I will be attending in a LONG time. 2 weeks ago was the first time I had been to Roslyn in a very long time. So many feelings were stirred in that trip. I took dad over to the memorial service for a childhood friend's mother. She died the same day as mom died, but was in Michigan where she had moved to be with her family after her husband had died 10 years prior. The family was all flying out to bury her with her husband in Roslyn and dad's friend (who had reconnected with dad over e-mail) invited him to come. The invitation came several months ago and I was determined I would get dad there. It was a long day of driving... an hour and a half to Arlington, 2 hours to Roslyn, a few hours in Roslyn, 2 hours back to Arlington and an hour and a half back home. But for those few hours in Roslyn, it was all worth it.
So much of that area has changed, and yet so much of it has remained like the childhood pictures in my mind. There are a LOT more people in town, but the cemetery is exactly the same. Dad and I got there early and we found his friend's mother's plot which turned out to be just steps away from my grandparents (his parents) plot. We decided to drive over to mom's family's plots as well and such a flood of emotions came hurtling back into my head. I love that cemetery. I found a love of cemeteries at that particular cemetery. I remember being a kid and exploring the older part of the cemetery and wiping off long covered head stones and being fascinated by a cemetery split by racial/ethnic classes. I learned a lot about history at that cemetery. I learned a lot about family at that cemetery.
Every memorial day it was like a family reunion at the Roslyn cemetery. As a kid growing up, it just seemed normal that we would spend several hours tending to graves while people drove up that hadn't been seen in a year (since the previous memorial day). Coolers of beer and pop always came out. People laughed and told stories. I could see all of that 2 weeks ago as I stood at my grandparent's grave. I could FEEL it.
I remember telling other kids about the my memorial day experiences and they looked at me with a look of horror because they couldn't imagine anything like that taking place at a cemetery. But for me that cemetery holds more than just my geneological history, it holds memories that I have carried with me my entire life. And in one day, years of memories came flooding back in a moment.
It was incredible to watch dad meet up with his childhood friend who he hadn't seen in decades. What a reunion. It meant a lot to both of them. And it was worth every minute of driving I did that day.
So, this weekend, it's back for the Croatian picnic. I'm looking forward to seeing family. I'm looking forward to some laughter. I'm looking forward to some memories. And right now, I'm anxiously hoping my week overdue client has her baby before Sunday so I can definitely be there!
It will be another long day of driving, but once again, I know it will be worth it. I didn't understand the importance of things like this as a kid...or even several years ago honestly. But I do now. Life is short. Time is limited. Times of laughter and joy with family need to be honored because we never know when family will be gone.
Dad and I drove by both my grandparent's homes on our way out of town two weeks ago. My mom's childhood house is torn down, but the house where my grandparents moved to, and where I spent a lot of time, is still there, as is my dad's parents' house. It was odd to drive by, and once again feel such a flood of emotions in front of each house.
I wish I had my mom here to tell me her stories and to reminisce about memories. I'll never get that back and I hate that. But I still have other family around who still have stories to share and for that I am grateful.
This post isn't anything like I thought it was going to be today. I expected to talk more about grief and mourning and how crazy it is and how on days like today, the grief seems overwhelming. But instead it turned into a post about memories and somehow that has made me feel a bit better today.
I have felt a strong need for memories lately. I feel the need to hear stories about my mom, so if any of you have any you'd like to share, please pass them along. :-)
Three-quarters of a year. Some days I still can't believe she is gone. I have had a lot of fleeting moments lately of thinking I needed to call her and tell her something and then remembering I can't call her. Some days it seems so wrong that my mom isn't in this world anymore. Some days I just need her understanding and her protection. Some days I need her applause. But I am surviving without all of it. Instead I live with the memories and imagine what she would say to me in different situations.
Losing my mom has been life changing. That I know. I am stronger than ever before and I appreciate that. But the loss of my mom is still very tangible and real and still hits me out of nowhere some days. But the sun continues to rise and the sun continues to set and I keep moving forward. On days like today though, it's important to stop and reflect a little about what I've lost and what I've gained and where I am and so this blog post is apparently what came out in all that reflection. :-)
I love you mom and I still miss you so much.
People told me that it would not feel as raw as it did nine months ago, and they were right. They also told me that it would still hurt now and then. Sometimes more than others. They were right about that too. Not a day goes by that I don't think about my mom, but for the most part the raw pain over the incredible loss has been replaced with just a general sadness. Yet, there are days, like today, when it all bubbles to the surface again.
The anniversaries are hard. I expect that after the first year, I'll no longer be marking every month like we all seem to do the first year. Maybe we mark those months to show ourselves that we're getting through. I think a lot about "what I was doing a year ago". July wasn't so bad. Mom was still feeling good. We were all feeling hopeful. I do remember though as the Croatian picnic was looming, mom said she couldn't go. I think everyone was hoping she would make it, but she confided to me on the phone that she had a dream that she lost my dad at the picnic and it scared her. Even though we were all feeling hopeful, the cancer was still inside and it was slowly killing her. Little things like this reminded me of that.
This weekend is the Croatian picnic. Dad is going this year. It will actually be the first year that I will be attending in a LONG time. 2 weeks ago was the first time I had been to Roslyn in a very long time. So many feelings were stirred in that trip. I took dad over to the memorial service for a childhood friend's mother. She died the same day as mom died, but was in Michigan where she had moved to be with her family after her husband had died 10 years prior. The family was all flying out to bury her with her husband in Roslyn and dad's friend (who had reconnected with dad over e-mail) invited him to come. The invitation came several months ago and I was determined I would get dad there. It was a long day of driving... an hour and a half to Arlington, 2 hours to Roslyn, a few hours in Roslyn, 2 hours back to Arlington and an hour and a half back home. But for those few hours in Roslyn, it was all worth it.
So much of that area has changed, and yet so much of it has remained like the childhood pictures in my mind. There are a LOT more people in town, but the cemetery is exactly the same. Dad and I got there early and we found his friend's mother's plot which turned out to be just steps away from my grandparents (his parents) plot. We decided to drive over to mom's family's plots as well and such a flood of emotions came hurtling back into my head. I love that cemetery. I found a love of cemeteries at that particular cemetery. I remember being a kid and exploring the older part of the cemetery and wiping off long covered head stones and being fascinated by a cemetery split by racial/ethnic classes. I learned a lot about history at that cemetery. I learned a lot about family at that cemetery.
Every memorial day it was like a family reunion at the Roslyn cemetery. As a kid growing up, it just seemed normal that we would spend several hours tending to graves while people drove up that hadn't been seen in a year (since the previous memorial day). Coolers of beer and pop always came out. People laughed and told stories. I could see all of that 2 weeks ago as I stood at my grandparent's grave. I could FEEL it.
I remember telling other kids about the my memorial day experiences and they looked at me with a look of horror because they couldn't imagine anything like that taking place at a cemetery. But for me that cemetery holds more than just my geneological history, it holds memories that I have carried with me my entire life. And in one day, years of memories came flooding back in a moment.
It was incredible to watch dad meet up with his childhood friend who he hadn't seen in decades. What a reunion. It meant a lot to both of them. And it was worth every minute of driving I did that day.
So, this weekend, it's back for the Croatian picnic. I'm looking forward to seeing family. I'm looking forward to some laughter. I'm looking forward to some memories. And right now, I'm anxiously hoping my week overdue client has her baby before Sunday so I can definitely be there!
It will be another long day of driving, but once again, I know it will be worth it. I didn't understand the importance of things like this as a kid...or even several years ago honestly. But I do now. Life is short. Time is limited. Times of laughter and joy with family need to be honored because we never know when family will be gone.
Dad and I drove by both my grandparent's homes on our way out of town two weeks ago. My mom's childhood house is torn down, but the house where my grandparents moved to, and where I spent a lot of time, is still there, as is my dad's parents' house. It was odd to drive by, and once again feel such a flood of emotions in front of each house.
I wish I had my mom here to tell me her stories and to reminisce about memories. I'll never get that back and I hate that. But I still have other family around who still have stories to share and for that I am grateful.
This post isn't anything like I thought it was going to be today. I expected to talk more about grief and mourning and how crazy it is and how on days like today, the grief seems overwhelming. But instead it turned into a post about memories and somehow that has made me feel a bit better today.
I have felt a strong need for memories lately. I feel the need to hear stories about my mom, so if any of you have any you'd like to share, please pass them along. :-)
Three-quarters of a year. Some days I still can't believe she is gone. I have had a lot of fleeting moments lately of thinking I needed to call her and tell her something and then remembering I can't call her. Some days it seems so wrong that my mom isn't in this world anymore. Some days I just need her understanding and her protection. Some days I need her applause. But I am surviving without all of it. Instead I live with the memories and imagine what she would say to me in different situations.
Losing my mom has been life changing. That I know. I am stronger than ever before and I appreciate that. But the loss of my mom is still very tangible and real and still hits me out of nowhere some days. But the sun continues to rise and the sun continues to set and I keep moving forward. On days like today though, it's important to stop and reflect a little about what I've lost and what I've gained and where I am and so this blog post is apparently what came out in all that reflection. :-)
I love you mom and I still miss you so much.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Friends and Neighbors
Today was the memorial service for my mom and dad's friend, Jim. It was the first service I've been to since mom's. It was about as hard as I expected, and got a little harder when the video montage played and a picture of Jim and Nancy and my mom and dad came on the screen. I think I let out a gasp and then the tears started flowing. My eyes hurt right now. I watched Jim's wife, Nancy, a lot today. She looked so exhausted and beat down. I hurt for her. I plan to stay in touch with her. She is so lonely and sad and I could truly feel her pain. She lost one of her best friends (my mom) and her husband in a matter of months. And you can see it in her face.I watched the video of a young Jim and Nancy. And in my head I replayed mom's video. A life lived flashed in moments on a screen. The minister mentioned a story when he was standing at a cemetery and a man asked him if he knew the most important part of a headstone...he didn't wait for an answer and went on to say it was the dash between the dates. That dash holds all the life lived, no matter how long or how short. I thought that was pretty profound.
I picture mom showing Jim around Heaven. Just as I pictured my mom's friend Eileen meeting mom when she arrived and showing her around.
I stopped at the cemetery on the way up today and found that mom is getting a new upstairs neighbor (that's the picture above). I also finally stopped to find where Eileen was buried (that's the other picture) and was pleased that she and mom could almost wave to one another. Thus the title of the post...I thought a lot about all the people that have been lost in the last year, including the new person that will be joining my mom in the Pieta at the cemetery. The cemetery was busy with preparation for lots of services today. My mom has joined friends and has friends joining her and new people she had never met in her life on earth.
Yet so many of us have been left behind. And the pain I saw in Nancy's face today was real and tangible and I could simply "feel" what she was feeling.
This is life. Death is part of it. But damn it is hard for those of left behind.
Today was long. It was full of tears. It was full of salt being poured into wounds that I thought were closed, but are obviously still open. I suppose today was just the first of many days like this over the course of my life.
It was a day of reflection. Those can be hard. But they can be good too.
I miss mom a lot today. But I hope she and Jim are laughing a lot together. That thought gives me some solace.
Rest in Peace Jim. You are missed.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Happy Birthday Mom
This year I didn't hunt for the perfect card to tell my mom how much I loved her even though our relationship had it's ups and downs. This year that ritual was very physically absent for me. I have avoided looking at any cards for anything. I haven't wanted to acknowledge that I will never buy another "Happy Birthday Mom" card.
I remember buying her card last year and falling apart because I knew it would be the last one. I remember making her a chocolate cake last year and then getting sick and not getting to spend the day with her. This year, I made the trek north to visit her at the cemetery. Dad and Michael met Olly and I there. I brought her flowers as usual. There were other flowers there...I don't know if someone left them for mom or if they were for Sybil, the woman just below her. I kind of feel like I know Sybil somehow too. I usually say Hi to her every time I visit mom. I know...I'm weird...but she and mom are neighbors. Anyway, not much was said by all of us, but it was good to be there. Dad and Olly and I went out for a nice brunch at Arnie's and then we took dad home and Olly fixed some computer problems he was having.
All in all, it was a good day. And I have survived the trifecta of holidays that I was dreading. My birthday, Mother's Day and mom's birthday. And I'm okay. I'm better. Time is helping. A couple of months ago, I didn't think it was, but getting through these events in one piece has helped.
On a side note, mom and dad's friend, Jim, finally lost his battle with cancer on May 30th. I knew it was coming, but it was still hard to hear. But somehow the idea of mom meeting him at the gates of Heaven and welcoming him in and showing him around made me smile. I know the two of them will laugh a lot together. His service is in 2 weeks. It will be the first memorial service I've been to since mom died. But somehow it's another sign that time has passed. Life (and death) continues.
I am incredibly sad that I will never celebrate another birthday with my mom, but on the way home today, I realized that I should have made that chocolate cake again this year. And I will from here on out for every birthday. She didn't get to enjoy cake for many, many years because of her diabetes. At the end, the cancer took over and she could eat what she wanted. And she never got that cake because I was sick. I'll make it for her every year now and will enjoy it for her. It won't be the same, but it will be in her honor.
Happy Birthday Mom. I love you.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Mother's Day with no mom
Well, my last post was all about my amazing revelations on my birthday. There was a big part of me that was hoping Mother's Day wouldn't be as bad as I was anticipating. Unfortunately, it started out worse than I expected.
I woke up sad and with a headache. As I got ready for the day, the emotions built up even though I tried to keep them down. I checked my facebook page and saw all the Happy Mother's Day messages and started to cry. It just all felt so empty to me and it made me sad. I know I'm a mom and this day was not just about MY mom but also about me...but to me...not having my mom here made the whole day seem hollow.
Then Olly's brother called and wanted to talk to me to wish me a Happy Mother's Day and I completely fell apart. I couldn't talk to him. I didn't want people to wish me a Happy Mother's Day because it simply wasn't a happy day for me. I locked myself in the bathroom and cried until I was nearly hyperventilating. I swear I could "feel" my mom telling me that all of this wasn't necessary, but I hurt...I just hurt so deeply. I hadn't felt that way since shortly after she had died. I felt empty and sad and angry and I just wanted to run. I wanted to be away from people. I wanted to disappear for the day. I just wanted it to go away.
But there's no running away from reality...so I composed myself and decided to go grocery shopping before we had to leave to pick up the boys and head up north. Don't ask me why. I don't know why. I just needed to go somewhere where I was anonymous and could just blend in. What I didn't realize was how many people would be at the store at 8am buying flowers for their moms. And then that just made me even more angry. I picked up my few groceries and headed home.
We left to pick up the boys and I couldn't get rid of the sadness. I was so happy to have them with me, but I couldn't make the sadness go away.
We got to the cemetery and there were so many people there...which I expected. But my hope that I could go and just fall apart didn't work as well because I felt inhibited by all the people there. However, after about 5 minutes or so, I had a good cry with mom and, as I usually do, I felt a sense of peace overtake me. It was good and much-needed in order to help me get through my day.
My spirits lifted a little. I checked my e-mail from my phone and had beautiful messages from several people letting me know they were thinking of me today and commenting on my mothering with such kind words. I have incredible friends.
By the time we got to dad's, I was feeling a little better, but boy, were my eyes just burning and puffy! I asked dad if he'd be open to going to the casino and gambling a little in honor of mom. He said sure so he and I headed off and spent about an hour and a half at the casino (thank you Olly for staying at dad's and watching the boys so we could do this!). It was packed and there were moments when I felt bitter and angry about how many women were there with their mothers and how many women I saw there who were significantly older than my mom would ever get to be. But for the most part, it was exactly what I felt like I should be doing today. I am not a gambler, but mom loved it and I knew that to fully honor her on Mother's Day a trip to the casino was necessary. And I was right. It felt perfect.
Dad and I didn't get any luck from mom and left with less than we came in with...except it was the best part of my day. And that was worth it. :-)
It's 6:30pm now and Mother's Day is nearing it's close and I am grateful for that. Nonetheless, the day did improve from this morning and I'm glad I made the trip up north to be with dad. I don't know when Mother's Day will feel like it's a day about me, but I'm sure it will come in time. This year it was about my mom. And that felt like the way it should be.
I found some wonderful comments about the loss of a mother and the words of these authors resonate with me very deeply.
Christopher Buckley (son of William F. Buckely Jr.) was interviewed by AARP magazine about losing both his parents. The interviewer asked him, "It's been said that the relationship with one's parents doesn't end with their loss, but it does change." and his answer was, "It never goes away, and they never go away. Your parents are your ultimate protectors, and no matter what difficulties you're having with them when they're alive, you can always pick up the phone and hear their voices. They provide a certain level of comfort—just knowing they're there. They're like fire extinguishers mounted on the wall behind glass. You know if it really comes to it, you can break the glass. And now they're gone."
And that is EXACTLY how I feel. Mom and I had our moments. We had our ups and downs, but ultimately no matter where we were in our relationship, I knew that if I needed her, she would be right there on the other side of the phone. That is gone. And I do feel like one of my protectors is gone. My "fire extinguisher" is only half full now...
And Iris Krasnow, one of my favorite authors wrote a column about losing her mom several years back. These are some of my favorite excerpts...you can read the full article here:
http://www.aarpmagazine.org/people/on_my_own_iris_krasnow.html (and yes...I'm spending time on the AARP website...I had to look it up for my Social Gerontology class this term and have fallen in love with it...what that says about me...I don't know...;-))
"She watched my hair turn gray, my arthritis set in, and my four baby boys become teens with stubble. Yet to Helene Krasnow, no matter my age, I was always her little girl. At times now, without her, I feel like one. I'm old enough to be a grandma myself, but this slap of loss leaves me heaving, at odd moments, with kindergarten sobs. No one loves a daughter like her mother—even at times when it doesn’t feel like love, when that love confuses, annoys, suffocates. She is a mirror and an anchor. She is the person I counted on to push my hair out of my eyes, to buffer me from bullies, to lead the way.
After more than half a century together, separating is staggering. Today I grieve for a woman who not only grilled my cheese sandwiches until I was 18 but also grew into my drinking buddy (vodka martinis, slightly dirty, two olives), staunch advocate, staunch adversary, the most loyal girlfriend I will ever have. My mother preserved my whole history as if it were a precious quilt, patching together stages with pictures and notes, keeping the sprawling bolt of fabric intact. And when that primal and seemingly ancient connection was cut, it was like being yanked from the womb again—only it was way tougher than the first time. She grew on me and in me, and the distinction of selves became blurred. We shared a heart."
"What I learned during those final months was that resolving your relationship with your mother while she's alive makes for a more centered, settled self when she dies. With clarity and closure, the jolting passage from girl to woman born at my mother's burial was more emancipating than debilitating. Only when my mother moved on was I able to take the best of her, leave the worst behind, and become an unstoppable blend of the two of us.
Surging with the spirit of Helene, I am surprisingly giddy with a sense of adventure and invincibility that is rising like a phoenix from the ashes of grief. I am relieved that she is no longer suffering. I am released to become an unbridled woman who doesn’t have to please anyone anymore. For as long as I can remember, I would hesitate before making major decisions, gauging my moves on: “Would Mom approve?” Mom is someone else now, the power that fuels me, but no longer my judge. I am free.
I can write my first work of fiction, and it can be the most raw and sexual piece of beach trash anyone has ever devoured on a vacation.
I can wear hippie skirts and unkempt hair and not be greeted with a dramatic eye roll.
I can learn to mother myself; it's about time.
I can be absolutely fearless, since one of my biggest fears has already occurred—I lost my mother, and I am okay.
Each afternoon, I talk to her photograph, a shot of her as a wild-haired teen with a seductive grin. The picture is next to a pumpkin-spice candle, both placed on a silk scarf she adored. By the pungent flicker of the flame, I am awash in certainty that we are one. I wailed when my mom was dying and wondered: “Who will I be when my mother is gone?” Standing on the other side, I am happy to discover who that person is: I am my mother's daughter, an adult woman who will persevere. I could live another 40 years, and she prepared me well to make this voyage without her, however lonely it may get."
Aaaahhhh...I love Iris Krasnow and her words deeply touched my heart in ways that I simply can't explain. It is though she is speaking for me.
I survived another holiday. Honestly, it was the hardest so far. Mom's birthday is next. And then, somehow, I will feel like I have survived it all. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Dad's Birthday, Easter, My Birthday, Mother's Day, Mom's Birthday. Those are the biggees and I've almost survived them all. Mom and Dad's anniversary in September and the anniversary of mom's death in October will be hard, but I feel like today was truly the hardest. And look at me...I'm still breathing. This morning I was hyperventilating, but tonight I am breathing well. I am at peace with the first Mother's Day without my mom as the day comes to an end. I am glad to send it away and wish it well. But I made it through. I honored my mom in a way I know had her smiling.
Thank you to everyone who checked in on me today and let me know you were thinking of me. You have no idea how much those little notes helped me get through today.
I may no longer have my mom, but I have an incredible family and incredible friends and I am blessed to work in a job where I continuously witness women becoming mothers. It's wonderful work.
Term 5 starts tomorrow. It's back to the grind for the next 32 weeks straight. But I can survive anything. I know that without a doubt these days. That doesn't mean I won't stumble, but I will get up, brush myself off, and get right back on track knowing that "this too shall pass".
My mom taught me that...
Happy Mother's Day Mom! I love you!
I woke up sad and with a headache. As I got ready for the day, the emotions built up even though I tried to keep them down. I checked my facebook page and saw all the Happy Mother's Day messages and started to cry. It just all felt so empty to me and it made me sad. I know I'm a mom and this day was not just about MY mom but also about me...but to me...not having my mom here made the whole day seem hollow.
Then Olly's brother called and wanted to talk to me to wish me a Happy Mother's Day and I completely fell apart. I couldn't talk to him. I didn't want people to wish me a Happy Mother's Day because it simply wasn't a happy day for me. I locked myself in the bathroom and cried until I was nearly hyperventilating. I swear I could "feel" my mom telling me that all of this wasn't necessary, but I hurt...I just hurt so deeply. I hadn't felt that way since shortly after she had died. I felt empty and sad and angry and I just wanted to run. I wanted to be away from people. I wanted to disappear for the day. I just wanted it to go away.
But there's no running away from reality...so I composed myself and decided to go grocery shopping before we had to leave to pick up the boys and head up north. Don't ask me why. I don't know why. I just needed to go somewhere where I was anonymous and could just blend in. What I didn't realize was how many people would be at the store at 8am buying flowers for their moms. And then that just made me even more angry. I picked up my few groceries and headed home.
We left to pick up the boys and I couldn't get rid of the sadness. I was so happy to have them with me, but I couldn't make the sadness go away.
We got to the cemetery and there were so many people there...which I expected. But my hope that I could go and just fall apart didn't work as well because I felt inhibited by all the people there. However, after about 5 minutes or so, I had a good cry with mom and, as I usually do, I felt a sense of peace overtake me. It was good and much-needed in order to help me get through my day.
My spirits lifted a little. I checked my e-mail from my phone and had beautiful messages from several people letting me know they were thinking of me today and commenting on my mothering with such kind words. I have incredible friends.
By the time we got to dad's, I was feeling a little better, but boy, were my eyes just burning and puffy! I asked dad if he'd be open to going to the casino and gambling a little in honor of mom. He said sure so he and I headed off and spent about an hour and a half at the casino (thank you Olly for staying at dad's and watching the boys so we could do this!). It was packed and there were moments when I felt bitter and angry about how many women were there with their mothers and how many women I saw there who were significantly older than my mom would ever get to be. But for the most part, it was exactly what I felt like I should be doing today. I am not a gambler, but mom loved it and I knew that to fully honor her on Mother's Day a trip to the casino was necessary. And I was right. It felt perfect.
Dad and I didn't get any luck from mom and left with less than we came in with...except it was the best part of my day. And that was worth it. :-)
It's 6:30pm now and Mother's Day is nearing it's close and I am grateful for that. Nonetheless, the day did improve from this morning and I'm glad I made the trip up north to be with dad. I don't know when Mother's Day will feel like it's a day about me, but I'm sure it will come in time. This year it was about my mom. And that felt like the way it should be.
I found some wonderful comments about the loss of a mother and the words of these authors resonate with me very deeply.
Christopher Buckley (son of William F. Buckely Jr.) was interviewed by AARP magazine about losing both his parents. The interviewer asked him, "It's been said that the relationship with one's parents doesn't end with their loss, but it does change." and his answer was, "It never goes away, and they never go away. Your parents are your ultimate protectors, and no matter what difficulties you're having with them when they're alive, you can always pick up the phone and hear their voices. They provide a certain level of comfort—just knowing they're there. They're like fire extinguishers mounted on the wall behind glass. You know if it really comes to it, you can break the glass. And now they're gone."
And that is EXACTLY how I feel. Mom and I had our moments. We had our ups and downs, but ultimately no matter where we were in our relationship, I knew that if I needed her, she would be right there on the other side of the phone. That is gone. And I do feel like one of my protectors is gone. My "fire extinguisher" is only half full now...
And Iris Krasnow, one of my favorite authors wrote a column about losing her mom several years back. These are some of my favorite excerpts...you can read the full article here:
http://www.aarpmagazine.org/people/on_my_own_iris_krasnow.html (and yes...I'm spending time on the AARP website...I had to look it up for my Social Gerontology class this term and have fallen in love with it...what that says about me...I don't know...;-))
"She watched my hair turn gray, my arthritis set in, and my four baby boys become teens with stubble. Yet to Helene Krasnow, no matter my age, I was always her little girl. At times now, without her, I feel like one. I'm old enough to be a grandma myself, but this slap of loss leaves me heaving, at odd moments, with kindergarten sobs. No one loves a daughter like her mother—even at times when it doesn’t feel like love, when that love confuses, annoys, suffocates. She is a mirror and an anchor. She is the person I counted on to push my hair out of my eyes, to buffer me from bullies, to lead the way.
After more than half a century together, separating is staggering. Today I grieve for a woman who not only grilled my cheese sandwiches until I was 18 but also grew into my drinking buddy (vodka martinis, slightly dirty, two olives), staunch advocate, staunch adversary, the most loyal girlfriend I will ever have. My mother preserved my whole history as if it were a precious quilt, patching together stages with pictures and notes, keeping the sprawling bolt of fabric intact. And when that primal and seemingly ancient connection was cut, it was like being yanked from the womb again—only it was way tougher than the first time. She grew on me and in me, and the distinction of selves became blurred. We shared a heart."
"What I learned during those final months was that resolving your relationship with your mother while she's alive makes for a more centered, settled self when she dies. With clarity and closure, the jolting passage from girl to woman born at my mother's burial was more emancipating than debilitating. Only when my mother moved on was I able to take the best of her, leave the worst behind, and become an unstoppable blend of the two of us.
Surging with the spirit of Helene, I am surprisingly giddy with a sense of adventure and invincibility that is rising like a phoenix from the ashes of grief. I am relieved that she is no longer suffering. I am released to become an unbridled woman who doesn’t have to please anyone anymore. For as long as I can remember, I would hesitate before making major decisions, gauging my moves on: “Would Mom approve?” Mom is someone else now, the power that fuels me, but no longer my judge. I am free.
I can write my first work of fiction, and it can be the most raw and sexual piece of beach trash anyone has ever devoured on a vacation.
I can wear hippie skirts and unkempt hair and not be greeted with a dramatic eye roll.
I can learn to mother myself; it's about time.
I can be absolutely fearless, since one of my biggest fears has already occurred—I lost my mother, and I am okay.
Each afternoon, I talk to her photograph, a shot of her as a wild-haired teen with a seductive grin. The picture is next to a pumpkin-spice candle, both placed on a silk scarf she adored. By the pungent flicker of the flame, I am awash in certainty that we are one. I wailed when my mom was dying and wondered: “Who will I be when my mother is gone?” Standing on the other side, I am happy to discover who that person is: I am my mother's daughter, an adult woman who will persevere. I could live another 40 years, and she prepared me well to make this voyage without her, however lonely it may get."
Aaaahhhh...I love Iris Krasnow and her words deeply touched my heart in ways that I simply can't explain. It is though she is speaking for me.
I survived another holiday. Honestly, it was the hardest so far. Mom's birthday is next. And then, somehow, I will feel like I have survived it all. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Dad's Birthday, Easter, My Birthday, Mother's Day, Mom's Birthday. Those are the biggees and I've almost survived them all. Mom and Dad's anniversary in September and the anniversary of mom's death in October will be hard, but I feel like today was truly the hardest. And look at me...I'm still breathing. This morning I was hyperventilating, but tonight I am breathing well. I am at peace with the first Mother's Day without my mom as the day comes to an end. I am glad to send it away and wish it well. But I made it through. I honored my mom in a way I know had her smiling.
Thank you to everyone who checked in on me today and let me know you were thinking of me. You have no idea how much those little notes helped me get through today.
I may no longer have my mom, but I have an incredible family and incredible friends and I am blessed to work in a job where I continuously witness women becoming mothers. It's wonderful work.
Term 5 starts tomorrow. It's back to the grind for the next 32 weeks straight. But I can survive anything. I know that without a doubt these days. That doesn't mean I won't stumble, but I will get up, brush myself off, and get right back on track knowing that "this too shall pass".
My mom taught me that...
Happy Mother's Day Mom! I love you!
Friday, April 30, 2010
Pedestals
When I started this blog, it was for me. I know that many people read it now, but I still try to be true to myself and not write for anyone else. Today's post may not be enjoyable for some people to read, but this is where I am today and it's important to ME. So, you've been warned. Don't read any further if you don't want to.
Today is my 41st birthday. I have been dreading this day. I felt a terrible sense of loss looming. I have written about it a couple of times here. I expected that I would feel very sad today on my first birthday after my mom died. No birthday card would be coming from my mom. It would be noticeable. However, I had no idea what would truly be noticeably missing.
I ended up spending 20 hours at a birth that rolled into my birthday. This is the 2nd year in a row that I've had a client have her baby on my birthday. I rang in my birthday at Midnight with a client dealing with a long and difficult birth. And as the clock turned Midnight, an overwhelming sadness took over me. I wasn't surprised. I had plans for this day. I had wanted to go to the cemetery. But I knew that on no sleep, I couldn't drive up there today. It wasn't safe. And I was sad about that.
But by the time I was driving home, around 3:30am, I was feeling upbeat about my birthday. As I drove onto my street, a bright light shone from out of the sky. It made me stop my car and look at it. It was simply the nearly full moon shining through a patch of clouds. But it lit up the sky and seemed to be speaking just to me. I felt something that said it was okay not to go to the cemetery today. That it was not a necessary trip. That today was going to hold something else. Something I needed to experience and honor. It gave me a sense of calm. When I got home, I took a shower and crawled into bed around 4am. I slept for about 2 hours when the boys got up and I rose with them to start my day.
But what hit me when I got up was something I didn't expect. I was feeling something I didn't quite understand. When I woke, my initial gut reaction was, "It's my birthday, I wonder if mom will call me today." That was my reaction because that's what I thought on every birthday during my adulthood. My mom never called me on my birthday. Yes, she sent a card. Yes, she sent money. But she never called. She never went out of her way to wish me a Happy Birthday and over the years, it started to build up. About 4 years ago, it really peaked and I actually didn't talk to mom all day. I normally would cave around dinner time and call her. But 4 years ago I didn't give in and I didn't speak to my mom on my birthday. And it kind of broke my heart.
I can't imagine not talking to my kids on their birthdays. They are such gifts to me. Their birthdays are incredibly important to me. And I'll admit that while growing up, my mom gave me some nice birthday parties. But once I hit adulthood, apparently she just didn't feel the need to even make a phone call.
But she also repeated to me over and over during the course of my life that the day of my birth was the worst day of her life. Yes...she said that. Out loud. To my face. And no, I don't think she was really kidding. And even if she was...why would you say that to your child? Over and over throughout the course of their life?
And this morning...all of that came rushing back in a flood of emotions. And I realized that many of my birthdays were wrapped up in wanting to be with my mom or hear from my mom because I wanted that validation that my birthday was important to the woman that gave it to me. But I'm not really sure that it was. Maybe not until last year. And I'll take that and I'll honor it. And I am grateful for the fences that were mended last year. But it was very obvious to me when I awoke this morning that I have work left to do. My birthday brought a renewal of deep seated feelings. And I thought to myself...today my mom will not call me...not because she won't, but because she can't. And as ugly as it sounds to say it out loud, there is a part of me that feels more comfortable with that today. I have not sat around waiting for her to call. I did not make a pilgrimage to the cemetery to find that connection that I tried to find every year on my birthday. I didn't "need" that this year. I found the connection I needed last year. I do believe many old wounds were healed. But today, on THIS birthday, the day became very noticeably MINE. And in some small, confusing, hard-to-understand way, it gave me a sense of peace on this day alone.
I will go to the cemetery on Mother's Day and I will cry for all I have lost because I DO miss my mom. Terribly. I will go to the cemetery on her birthday and mourn the fact that she will never see another birthday and that breaks my heart. Truly. I miss my mom. I miss what I feel like we were just starting to understand about each other. None of that is changed by what I feel today. But today was freeing in a way that no day has been in a long time.
I read somewhere that when someone dies, we put them up on a pedestal and we remember all the good things and forget the negative. That makes sense. But I also remember reading that there are times during grief, that the pedestal comes down a bit as we start coming to terms with reality and remembering more specifics about the one we lost. I believe today was a piece of that. I think it's actually healthy. Even though it does still sound kind of ugly to say it all "out loud" for the world to see and hear. But it is my truth and this is my blog and it is my birthday and I get to say what I want. :-)
I don't know why my mom chose to have me when she didn't want me. I don't know if she did it because that was what was expected of her. I don't know if she felt she had no other choice. I don't know any of the answers. But she did have me. She did give me my birthday and I honor that today. She raised me well and I appreciate all that she gave me. I miss her dearly. Every day.
But I am taking back my birthday. I don't have to look for her love or approval on this day anymore. And I am making this day mine again. I don't have to sit and wait for her to call anymore and get more and more worked up as the day goes on. This day belongs to me. Today I had many e-mails and facebook messages and texts from friends and family. I feel loved. In years past all those people could have done the same thing and I would still have felt something missing at the end of my day when my mom didn't call. I won't feel that today. Do I feel a hole every single day of my life? Absolutely. But today will be no different. It won't be more of a hole. And it won't ruin my day.
I loved my mom and I know she loved me. That is enough now. It wasn't before, but it is now. Today I let go of all those past years that I let her have control over my birthday. Today I take my birthday back and make it my day. She gave it to me and I love her for that. But for many years I gave her a large chunk of my day. I originally wanted to say she took it from me, but I don't think that's fair. She couldn't take anything that I wasn't giving. And today, I took it back. And that feels good too.
So, I'd like to say I'm sorry if any of this offended anyone, but I'm not. Because these are my feelings and that's what this blog was for originally. And as I take back my birthday, it means not letting my feelings and emotions be controlled by anyone else. That will probably always be a work in progress. But today was a start.
Today has been a good day. It has been a calming day. It has been a birthday like no other birthday has been as long as I can remember. The dread I had for it did not materialize. Yes, something completely different was unearthed when I woke this morning. But it was healing. And healing is good.
So, today I thank my mom for giving me my birthday. I am sure 41 years ago was a pretty terrifying day for her. She was beginning the recovery from a cesarean birth with a baby she didn't really want in a city far away from anyone she knew. I'm not sure I could have done all that. I'm not sure I could have pushed through. And so, today I honor her for giving me this day. And today I also take it back as MY day. My mom gave it to me. But now it's time to take it and make it my own. And I do it filled with love...not anger, not sadness, not grief...but love alone. And for the first birthday in many, many years, I feel complete and utter joy and gratitude to my mom and all those that love me enough to have taken a moment out of their day to let me know they were thinking of me today. I was blessed 41 years ago with the gift of my live. I am blessed today as I have been given a life, renewed. And without my mom I would not have had any of that. And that is the ultimate blessing of all.
Today is my 41st birthday. I have been dreading this day. I felt a terrible sense of loss looming. I have written about it a couple of times here. I expected that I would feel very sad today on my first birthday after my mom died. No birthday card would be coming from my mom. It would be noticeable. However, I had no idea what would truly be noticeably missing.
I ended up spending 20 hours at a birth that rolled into my birthday. This is the 2nd year in a row that I've had a client have her baby on my birthday. I rang in my birthday at Midnight with a client dealing with a long and difficult birth. And as the clock turned Midnight, an overwhelming sadness took over me. I wasn't surprised. I had plans for this day. I had wanted to go to the cemetery. But I knew that on no sleep, I couldn't drive up there today. It wasn't safe. And I was sad about that.
But by the time I was driving home, around 3:30am, I was feeling upbeat about my birthday. As I drove onto my street, a bright light shone from out of the sky. It made me stop my car and look at it. It was simply the nearly full moon shining through a patch of clouds. But it lit up the sky and seemed to be speaking just to me. I felt something that said it was okay not to go to the cemetery today. That it was not a necessary trip. That today was going to hold something else. Something I needed to experience and honor. It gave me a sense of calm. When I got home, I took a shower and crawled into bed around 4am. I slept for about 2 hours when the boys got up and I rose with them to start my day.
But what hit me when I got up was something I didn't expect. I was feeling something I didn't quite understand. When I woke, my initial gut reaction was, "It's my birthday, I wonder if mom will call me today." That was my reaction because that's what I thought on every birthday during my adulthood. My mom never called me on my birthday. Yes, she sent a card. Yes, she sent money. But she never called. She never went out of her way to wish me a Happy Birthday and over the years, it started to build up. About 4 years ago, it really peaked and I actually didn't talk to mom all day. I normally would cave around dinner time and call her. But 4 years ago I didn't give in and I didn't speak to my mom on my birthday. And it kind of broke my heart.
I can't imagine not talking to my kids on their birthdays. They are such gifts to me. Their birthdays are incredibly important to me. And I'll admit that while growing up, my mom gave me some nice birthday parties. But once I hit adulthood, apparently she just didn't feel the need to even make a phone call.
But she also repeated to me over and over during the course of my life that the day of my birth was the worst day of her life. Yes...she said that. Out loud. To my face. And no, I don't think she was really kidding. And even if she was...why would you say that to your child? Over and over throughout the course of their life?
And this morning...all of that came rushing back in a flood of emotions. And I realized that many of my birthdays were wrapped up in wanting to be with my mom or hear from my mom because I wanted that validation that my birthday was important to the woman that gave it to me. But I'm not really sure that it was. Maybe not until last year. And I'll take that and I'll honor it. And I am grateful for the fences that were mended last year. But it was very obvious to me when I awoke this morning that I have work left to do. My birthday brought a renewal of deep seated feelings. And I thought to myself...today my mom will not call me...not because she won't, but because she can't. And as ugly as it sounds to say it out loud, there is a part of me that feels more comfortable with that today. I have not sat around waiting for her to call. I did not make a pilgrimage to the cemetery to find that connection that I tried to find every year on my birthday. I didn't "need" that this year. I found the connection I needed last year. I do believe many old wounds were healed. But today, on THIS birthday, the day became very noticeably MINE. And in some small, confusing, hard-to-understand way, it gave me a sense of peace on this day alone.
I will go to the cemetery on Mother's Day and I will cry for all I have lost because I DO miss my mom. Terribly. I will go to the cemetery on her birthday and mourn the fact that she will never see another birthday and that breaks my heart. Truly. I miss my mom. I miss what I feel like we were just starting to understand about each other. None of that is changed by what I feel today. But today was freeing in a way that no day has been in a long time.
I read somewhere that when someone dies, we put them up on a pedestal and we remember all the good things and forget the negative. That makes sense. But I also remember reading that there are times during grief, that the pedestal comes down a bit as we start coming to terms with reality and remembering more specifics about the one we lost. I believe today was a piece of that. I think it's actually healthy. Even though it does still sound kind of ugly to say it all "out loud" for the world to see and hear. But it is my truth and this is my blog and it is my birthday and I get to say what I want. :-)
I don't know why my mom chose to have me when she didn't want me. I don't know if she did it because that was what was expected of her. I don't know if she felt she had no other choice. I don't know any of the answers. But she did have me. She did give me my birthday and I honor that today. She raised me well and I appreciate all that she gave me. I miss her dearly. Every day.
But I am taking back my birthday. I don't have to look for her love or approval on this day anymore. And I am making this day mine again. I don't have to sit and wait for her to call anymore and get more and more worked up as the day goes on. This day belongs to me. Today I had many e-mails and facebook messages and texts from friends and family. I feel loved. In years past all those people could have done the same thing and I would still have felt something missing at the end of my day when my mom didn't call. I won't feel that today. Do I feel a hole every single day of my life? Absolutely. But today will be no different. It won't be more of a hole. And it won't ruin my day.
I loved my mom and I know she loved me. That is enough now. It wasn't before, but it is now. Today I let go of all those past years that I let her have control over my birthday. Today I take my birthday back and make it my day. She gave it to me and I love her for that. But for many years I gave her a large chunk of my day. I originally wanted to say she took it from me, but I don't think that's fair. She couldn't take anything that I wasn't giving. And today, I took it back. And that feels good too.
So, I'd like to say I'm sorry if any of this offended anyone, but I'm not. Because these are my feelings and that's what this blog was for originally. And as I take back my birthday, it means not letting my feelings and emotions be controlled by anyone else. That will probably always be a work in progress. But today was a start.
Today has been a good day. It has been a calming day. It has been a birthday like no other birthday has been as long as I can remember. The dread I had for it did not materialize. Yes, something completely different was unearthed when I woke this morning. But it was healing. And healing is good.
So, today I thank my mom for giving me my birthday. I am sure 41 years ago was a pretty terrifying day for her. She was beginning the recovery from a cesarean birth with a baby she didn't really want in a city far away from anyone she knew. I'm not sure I could have done all that. I'm not sure I could have pushed through. And so, today I honor her for giving me this day. And today I also take it back as MY day. My mom gave it to me. But now it's time to take it and make it my own. And I do it filled with love...not anger, not sadness, not grief...but love alone. And for the first birthday in many, many years, I feel complete and utter joy and gratitude to my mom and all those that love me enough to have taken a moment out of their day to let me know they were thinking of me today. I was blessed 41 years ago with the gift of my live. I am blessed today as I have been given a life, renewed. And without my mom I would not have had any of that. And that is the ultimate blessing of all.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Realizations
Olly and I spent the day up at dad's today. Olly got dad's new computer all hooked up so he can finally enjoy it. I'm so thankful to have a techie geek for a boyfriend. ;-)
After spending a day with dad, I realized that he is incredibly lonely and I am trying to figure out what to do about that. I get up there as often as I can. I call twice a day. But it's not enough. I wish I could convince him to get out more, but I have tried with no luck yet. I know it's only been 6 & 1/2 months. I will keep trying. But I'm more worried than I was before. I tried the no worry thing. It didn't change anything. I'm not sure what the answers are yet, but some answers need to be found.
It was a good day and hopefully dad is currently enjoying his new computer. But it was a tough day too. It always seems to be that way when I visit. It is hard to leave.
All of this is hard. It was hard when mom was sick. It was terribly hard when mom died. But it's still hard now. Nothing ever will be the same again. I suppose I already knew that, but the realization is definitely settling in. It's quite possibly always going to be hard. Or at least harder than it used to be. I suppose that's what happens when your parents start to age and you go from being just a daughter to more of a caretaker. I used to call my parents when I had questions. Now I am the one answering questions. My parents used to help me with stuff in my life. Now I help dad. It's a role reversal that came on suddenly. So, maybe I'm just still catching up. I don't mind it. I just worry. I suppose that comes with it all.
My 40th year was an interesting one. Certainly a year of more growth than many of my years. And it is ending with a lot of new realizations. Ones that I would prefer weren't necessary. But they are. I believe year 41 will hold lots of decision making.
I have a picture on my wall that says,
I Dreamed I Had an Interview with God
"What questions do you have for me?"
"What surprises you most about humankind?..."
GOD answered
"They rush to grow up and then...
Long to be children again."
That spoke to me years ago when I bought it. It speaks to me even more now.
Being a grown up really isn't all it's cracked up to be...
After spending a day with dad, I realized that he is incredibly lonely and I am trying to figure out what to do about that. I get up there as often as I can. I call twice a day. But it's not enough. I wish I could convince him to get out more, but I have tried with no luck yet. I know it's only been 6 & 1/2 months. I will keep trying. But I'm more worried than I was before. I tried the no worry thing. It didn't change anything. I'm not sure what the answers are yet, but some answers need to be found.
It was a good day and hopefully dad is currently enjoying his new computer. But it was a tough day too. It always seems to be that way when I visit. It is hard to leave.
All of this is hard. It was hard when mom was sick. It was terribly hard when mom died. But it's still hard now. Nothing ever will be the same again. I suppose I already knew that, but the realization is definitely settling in. It's quite possibly always going to be hard. Or at least harder than it used to be. I suppose that's what happens when your parents start to age and you go from being just a daughter to more of a caretaker. I used to call my parents when I had questions. Now I am the one answering questions. My parents used to help me with stuff in my life. Now I help dad. It's a role reversal that came on suddenly. So, maybe I'm just still catching up. I don't mind it. I just worry. I suppose that comes with it all.
My 40th year was an interesting one. Certainly a year of more growth than many of my years. And it is ending with a lot of new realizations. Ones that I would prefer weren't necessary. But they are. I believe year 41 will hold lots of decision making.
I have a picture on my wall that says,
I Dreamed I Had an Interview with God
"What questions do you have for me?"
"What surprises you most about humankind?..."
GOD answered
"They rush to grow up and then...
Long to be children again."
That spoke to me years ago when I bought it. It speaks to me even more now.
Being a grown up really isn't all it's cracked up to be...
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