A place for London...

Sitting in grief...

I haven't been here in a while. I've had other means of getting my words out lately. Some by talking out loud about mom. Some by talking to her on the long walks I take in the morning since I'm training again for the Cancer Research UK Half Marathon walk in September.

But, this facebook status turned into a long ol' blog post, so here it is.

Today I read my friend, Maria's post on "sitting in her grief" after losing Jacob. It's a beautiful post, and one worth reading if you would like. http://momentswithjacob.blogspot.com/2016/07/sit-in-grief.html?spref=fb

It reminded me of earlier today when I was up in our guest room looking for a head band that mom would wear. With this new too short for me hairdo, I need something to put my hair back with and remembered she had one to cover her cold bald head that she didn't wear very often.

Mom didn't die in our guest room, she lived in there. She always called it her bedroom. I sometimes catch myself telling Steve or Abbey to put something or get something in "Mom's room". I admit it's hard for me to go up there often. When I do go in there it's usually to quickly change linens, or put something away. I don't tend to sit and allow myself to feel the heaviness of her absence.

On the 4th of July, Angie, Addie and I sat in there and talked about her and lined up all her marbles. It was nice but, no tears were shed. It was just the 3 of us missing her. Remembering being with her last 4th of July. And that was one of the longest times I've spent up there in a long while.

Today, when I went up to find this headband, I opened her closet. This closet has her things in it. Her crafting and quilting and books. Things I haven't been ready to go through yet. I quickly found the headband and I sat down on the bed. The last time it was touched it was by her. The tears came quickly and I was able to just sit in my grief.

I started pulling her things out of the closet. The book about her she didn't want to fill out with us, except for the things about her childhood. Some of the crafting things she did with the kids for the holidays. The newspaper with her obituary in it. Cards and letters given to me at her memorial that I don't even remember reading. I sat on the bed she never got to sleep in, on the beautiful cover she would have loved but never will be comforted by, and cried. I know I am not alone in missing her. But in that moment it sure felt like no one could miss her more than I do.

Max was resting in his bed room watching Batman so I turned his monitor on and stepped out to the garden. It was this time last year that the garden got out of control with weeds and dead flowers. I was certain nothing would come back this spring, but it all did. I so wanted it to be different this year, but again the weeds are all over the place. I've never minded pulling weeds. It's one of the most immediately gratifying chores. It's just I rarely have the time to do it.

As I pulled the weeds and the hiccups from crying started slowing, I thought about this idea of "sitting in grief" and thought there was a very fine line for me of feeling the feels and wallowing in sadness. I've read before that we can sometimes get stuck in the grief because it's the last thing we have to hold on to our loved one who passed away. And I want to remember so much more about her than just this immediate sadness.

I got through the flower beds and stood back at the cleaner looking beds. They still aren't perfect. I probably could be back there for hours before it looked like I wanted. But, that's all it is...a work in progress. Just like learning to live without mom.

I came back inside to check up on Max and went back upstairs to close up the room. I put the things back in the closet and looked inside one more bag. It had her shoes in it. I put the shoes in front of me and slipped them on. Still too big. I don't think I'll ever fill them.

Sitting in grief...

I haven't been here in a while. I've had other means of getting my words out lately. Some by talking out loud about mom. Some by talking to her on the long walks I take in the morning since I'm training again for the Cancer Research UK Half Marathon walk in September.

But, this facebook status turned into a long ol' blog post, so here it is.

Today I read my friend, Maria's post on "sitting in her grief" after losing Jacob. It's a beautiful post, and one worth reading if you would like. http://momentswithjacob.blogspot.com/2016/07/sit-in-grief.html?spref=fb

It reminded me of earlier today when I was up in our guest room looking for a head band that mom would wear. With this new too short for me hairdo, I need something to put my hair back with and remembered she had one to cover her cold bald head that she didn't wear very often.

Mom didn't die in our guest room, she lived in there. She always called it her bedroom. I sometimes catch myself telling Steve or Abbey to put something or get something in "Mom's room". I admit it's hard for me to go up there often. When I do go in there it's usually to quickly change linens, or put something away. I don't tend to sit and allow myself to feel the heaviness of her absence.

On the 4th of July, Angie, Addie and I sat in there and talked about her and lined up all her marbles. It was nice but, no tears were shed. It was just the 3 of us missing her. Remembering being with her last 4th of July. And that was one of the longest times I've spent up there in a long while.

Today, when I went up to find this headband, I opened her closet. This closet has her things in it. Her crafting and quilting and books. Things I haven't been ready to go through yet. I quickly found the headband and I sat down on the bed. The last time it was touched it was by her. The tears came quickly and I was able to just sit in my grief.

I started pulling her things out of the closet. The book about her she didn't want to fill out with us, except for the things about her childhood. Some of the crafting things she did with the kids for the holidays. The newspaper with her obituary in it. Cards and letters given to me at her memorial that I don't even remember reading. I sat on the bed she never got to sleep in, on the beautiful cover she would have loved but never will be comforted by, and cried. I know I am not alone in missing her. But in that moment it sure felt like no one could miss her more than I do.

Max was resting in his bed room watching Batman so I turned his monitor on and stepped out to the garden. It was this time last year that the garden got out of control with weeds and dead flowers. I was certain nothing would come back this spring, but it all did. I so wanted it to be different this year, but again the weeds are all over the place. I've never minded pulling weeds. It's one of the most immediately gratifying chores. It's just I rarely have the time to do it.

As I pulled the weeds and the hiccups from crying started slowing, I thought about this idea of "sitting in grief" and thought there was a very fine line for me of feeling the feels and wallowing in sadness. I've read before that we can sometimes get stuck in the grief because it's the last thing we have to hold on to our loved one who passed away. And I want to remember so much more about her than just this immediate sadness.

I got through the flower beds and stood back at the cleaner looking beds. They still aren't perfect. I probably could be back there for hours before it looked like I wanted. But, that's all it is...a work in progress. Just like learning to live without mom.

I came back inside to check up on Max and went back upstairs to close up the room. I put the things back in the closet and looked inside one more bag. It had her shoes in it. I put the shoes in front of me and slipped them on. Still too big. I don't think I'll ever fill them.

I had two dreams this week with mom in them.

The other day she had called me to tell me she wasn't dead.  They were wrong about the cancer and she was fine, but she couldn't see me yet.  I told her I didn't believe her and I was so angry at this joke because it meant I would have to say goodbye to her again and I never wanted to have to do that again.  I woke up angry and upset.

Last night I dreamt I found her in a waiting room at the hospital.  She was having a hard time breathing and no one was helping her.  I put her arm around me and asked a table of nurses who was taking care of her.  She

Birthday week...

I'm watching Disney's 60th celebration when Kermit THE Frog comes on to sing "Rainbow Connection", and I find the tears I thought would stay away today.  I've been crying for days.  Every little thing is reminding me of mom.  In her last days, I played this song at her bedside on repeat.  It made her relax, and something about it made me relax too.  She was slipping away and I was grasping for anything and everything that would bring her back just a little bit.

This month has been difficult all month long.  It's six months since she passed.  I thought of her on Valentine's, she was always our Valentine growing up.  She would buy us little heart candies, and cards, and flowers.  She was such a sweet momma.  And I think the biggest mountain for me to climb is her birthday in a few days, and then mine.  My first birthday without her.  It's birthday week.  We always celebrated together.  I wish we had more birthdays together.  I wish we had more valentines to send.  I wish we had more songs to sing.

Six months gone...

February is birthday month.  I have weird feelings about it this year.  How strange will it be to get to mom's birthday, and mine two days later without her being here?

Today marks six months since she left us.  Today we're sitting in the middle of a blizzard.  She died during the sweltering heat of August.  She would have liked to see all the snow.  The piles of snow are watering the sleeping bulbs we gave away at her memorial.  I'm so looking forward to spring, to see mom's flowers return and bloom.

I had a dream with her last night.  She came to listen to me gripe.  She listened to all my complaints, and egged me on with the good bits, and tried to make me see the other side of things too.  She was always good like that.  The best person to talk to about anything and everything.

At the end of my dream, I broke down crying and asked her to please not leave.  I told her it's been six months today but feels like a hundred years.  I told her, it's birthday month, we need to celebrate. Please don't go again.  She hugged me and gave me a kiss on my head, and I woke up with tears running out the sides of my eyes.

Separation anxiety...

When I was a child, I had terrible separation anxiety.  I hated saying good-bye to anyone.  When we had to leave our grandparents, I would beg for just a few more minutes.  Another story, another hug.

But there was no worse separation for me than from my momma.  Kindergarten was my first experience of being let off without my tribe, and I started it with great, huge, crocodile tears.  I hated it.  Mom would sit outside the door waiting to see if I was going to make myself sick with worry that she wouldn't come back.  It was always at the first of school. As the school year wore on, I was able to go into my class without sobs and hiccups for the first hour of school.

Sleepovers were always interrupted because I had to go back home.  The only safe places I could stay overnight was with family, because at least it was familiar.  But I never liked being apart from her for more than a couple of days.

I would write letters from camp, and call collect just to talk to her and tell her what an awful time I was having away from home.  And she always told me I was going to be fine, and to have fun.

As an adult I would ask what was wrong with me?  Why was I so attached?  And she would say it was just as hard for her.  And she would leave me and cry because I was so upset.  My mom loved each of us kids absolutely with all her heart. That was her super-power.  To make each of us feel as if we were the most important thing in the world to her.

I have been thinking this week about the feelings I've been feeling lately.  We're past the holidays and the absence and void doesn't feel as immediate.  Instead...I feel that separation and I just want her to come back.  I know she isn't.  I know that.  I do.  I simply find myself wishing for her.

I started watching the last season of Downton Abbey last week. We watched it together.  We watched all the Masterpiece shows together.  Even today I saw a preview for a new show coming on and I started to call her to tell her about it.

We're coming up on our birthdays.  She wanted so much for me to be born on her birthday.  Instead, I'm two days later.  We always celebrated together.  I feel it again, the separation...the pulling away. I know these feelings will get easier to deal with.  I know I will continue to find my way through this. I just wish she could come and make the separation anxiety subside.