Saturday night was tough. I couldn't sleep. This doesn't happen daily but as I get older, it happens more often. My mind wasn't racing. In fact, I couldn't actually 'think' about anything for any consistent amount of time and no bad song lyrics (or good ones for that matter) were stuck on repeat in my head. I wasn't feeling any specific emotion, except of course, frustration because I couldn't sleep. I wasn't anxious, over tired, restless, sad, mad, happy. I just couldn't sleep.
I've tried different techniques to fall asleep and sometimes they work but this night, nothing seemed to. Sometimes all it takes is a change of room...the guest room, the family room...a room that's different...and I can fall asleep but that didn't even work Saturday night.
My son had the same problem that night as well because at 4 AM he was tapping on my shoulder telling me he couldn't sleep. We decided to go to the family room and hang out together. I guess quality time is quality time regardless of the actual hour, right?
Sadly, my son's favorite channel is the Military Channel and I was subjected to two hours of a WWII documentary. I'm by no means a war or military buff but I suffered through it for the sake of my son. Finally, at 6 AM I decided to see if my favorite Starbucks was opened and we headed out. Sadly, it wasn't. Instead my son and I went to McDonald's so he could have breakfast while I watched and waited for the Starbucks doors to unlock.
Sitting in that McDonald's reminded me of the times I would go there with my father for breakfast. He loved McDonald's breakfasts. Until of course, his heart attack and then he wasn't allowed to go more than rarely. While my son sat and ate, I felt a wave of sadness come over me. I started to miss my dad. I always miss him but as time goes on, the sadness fades and life continues. Sometimes it creeps up on me and I start to feel this overwhelming sense of loss and it takes me a few minutes to get it under control...to be able to breathe normally again. No one really notices it, especially my son, thankfully. It seems silly that a simple trip to McDonald's would open the hole losing my dad has left in my heart but it's really those little things that impact me the most. I think that's what everyone says when they've lost someone they love but it never really seems true until you experience it yourself.
Because, as we all know, life goes on.
That's the part about losing someone that frustrates me now, at this stage of my losses. Life goes on. There is this big empty space in my heart...in my soul and I feel the loss so strongly but it's my personal loss. As I sat in that McDonald's with my son, I realized that while my parents, in my eyes, were the most amazing people to grace this earth, not everyone else thought that or even knew them. In fact, more people than not had no clue they even existed. The people in that McDonald's continued through their days and that day in particular, without my parents in their lives and weren't even phased by that while I sat there feeling a loss so profound and intense I couldn't breathe.
Life goes on. People wake up and do what they do every day. Buses take kids to school. Trains move masses of people to and from, to and from. Planes fly. Starbucks continues to make coffee (and thank God for that). Spring has even sprung here in Atlanta and we're already heading into summer. Life goes on. All without my dad and my mom.
Sitting in that McDonald's, I realized the unfairness of that. Life goes on even though the world lost two amazing people and it seems as if their mark on the world is gone now, too. Sure they have family to carry on. Little bits of their DNA are moving through the world but for me, that's not enough. It's all I've got but still, it's not enough. I realize most people feel this way when they lose someone they love and I know it's the way the world works but that doesn't mean I have to like it.
I just can't comprehend that my parents are gone and every day goes on just like the day before. I'm doing a lousy job of explaining it. I guess the best I can say is that sometimes, like in that McDonald's, I want to stand up and scream at the top of my lungs, "My parents are dead and you're walking around like the world is the same but it's not!" Because for me, the world is different and it will never be the same.
The world for me is now the world of 'after my parents died' instead of the 'before my parents died' world.
I'm not sad every day anymore. Like I said, it comes and goes and that physical pain in my chest...that inability to breathe...that feeling of total helplessness, it's all gone. I spend most of my days happy and can think about my parents without feeling sad. That's progress for me and I feel I'm moving forward in my grief but every so often it slaps me in the face and I'm shocked to realize
that it's actually true, my parents are dead.
I thought maybe writing this would resolve something for me. That maybe I'd understand the feeling better but I don't. Life still goes on and there is still a sense of loss for me and a slight feeling of anger that no one else in the world really notices the difference. The sun still shines and the wind still blows but for me, everything is just a little different now. Not bad or worse, just different.
Showing posts with label mothers death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mothers death. Show all posts
Monday, April 11, 2011
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Messages from the Other Side
I have always believed there was something 'after' this life. Some define it as Heaven, some use other terms. I'm a supporter of the Heaven theory myself. With that being said, an extension of my belief is that if there is something more than maybe there is some way to still maintain a connection with those who have passed.
If someone came to me and told me they'd had an experience with their great aunt coming to see them, I'd believe. I think it's possible but when it comes to things happening to me, I'm not always so sure.
I could make this post miles long and describe my experiences but I'm on a painting break and need to make this short and sweet. Instead, I'll give you some high-lights as background to my story.
As a child, I often saw a woman in white standing outside my bedroom doorway, just looking in and smiling. Years later I saw a picture of my father's mother, whom I'm named after and knew it was the same woman. I was never afraid and I never thought it was strange.
In my teens, my mom's mother passed and I experienced her presence in her house the day of her death. I felt her with me and watched as she closed a door. It freaked me out tremendously.
In the mid-90's an uncle I was very close to passed. I had a dream shortly thereafter where I told him I loved him and asked if he was an angel. I can still see that dream vividly in my mind. I firmly believe that was him.
Some time last year, I felt a man's presence in my house. I thought if I turned quickly enough, I would see an older man in an old military uniform. I did not mention this to my kids but my son saw him in my room several times and my daughter felt the same presence. They both told me separately. I don't know who it is but he's been back a few times recently.
I've experienced other things but these are the strongest.
After my mom passed, I did not feel her and it frustrated me. I tried and tried and begged for a sign. A very good friend told me it was most likely my walls and that when I was able to feel her, I would. Yet, I got nothing. And it ticked me off. I did have a friend who made a connection with her. She had a dream that my mom told her to tell me she was okay. I believed that but was still frustrated that she got the contact and not me. Months later I had a dream that my mom called me on a broken pay phone and said, "I've crossed over." Those would be words she would use.
When my dad died last May, I felt different. With my mom, I have not felt her at all. My dad however, seems to be here. I feel his energy. Not all of the time and not often but I do. Shortly after he passed I was half asleep at his house and I heard his voice, clear as day, say my name. Then nothing for some time. Recently I had a dream that I was walking with him and I asked if it was really him and he said yes. I then asked if he could hear me talk to him and he said, "Yes, I hear you." I woke up hoping and doubting that was a visit but I can't help but want it to have been.
I have always been close to my parents. I thought that when they passed, if they could, they would be around. But I wanted to feel them and I really haven't felt them at all. It's not as if I wanted them hanging out with me daily but I wanted to have a sense of them.
Last week two of those expensive energy smart bulbs blew in my kitchen. The next day the microwave sparked and stopped functioning. I was not happy. That week I also joined a website that deals with the metaphysical. I wanted to see if the things I've experienced could be real or just me hoping and wishing. I signed up for a medium to call me and do a reading. The odds were slim I'd get the call but I did. Last night.
As much of a cynic as I am, I had to admit to being freaked at the clarity of it all. He mentioned immediately things that he could have researched and discovered but then he mentioned something that very few people, including my husband knew. If it was my mom and dad, they would have known this but it was not in any way public knowledge.
And he told me that my father has been here messing with my electricity. He said not flicking lights on and off but blowing things up. Yeah, dad owes me a new microwave now. I was sort of floored at that too because he wouldn't have known about it, either.
The medium said two specific things that made me feel he was actually talking to my parents. Things they could not have researched with the limited information they had. How is that possible? I have to have faith that it is. That there really is something else out there and that my parents are still here with me, maybe not all of the time but still here. Goodness, I'll never be able to have sex again! :)
I'm still processing all of the information but I'll work through it. For those that don't believe, I have to say I was taking that route recently but with this, I can't help but think there's something more and maybe, just maybe if we open ourselves up to the possibility, we'll see. Maybe if we break down the walls of doubt, they're there, knocking for us to let them in.
If someone came to me and told me they'd had an experience with their great aunt coming to see them, I'd believe. I think it's possible but when it comes to things happening to me, I'm not always so sure.
I could make this post miles long and describe my experiences but I'm on a painting break and need to make this short and sweet. Instead, I'll give you some high-lights as background to my story.
As a child, I often saw a woman in white standing outside my bedroom doorway, just looking in and smiling. Years later I saw a picture of my father's mother, whom I'm named after and knew it was the same woman. I was never afraid and I never thought it was strange.
In my teens, my mom's mother passed and I experienced her presence in her house the day of her death. I felt her with me and watched as she closed a door. It freaked me out tremendously.
In the mid-90's an uncle I was very close to passed. I had a dream shortly thereafter where I told him I loved him and asked if he was an angel. I can still see that dream vividly in my mind. I firmly believe that was him.
Some time last year, I felt a man's presence in my house. I thought if I turned quickly enough, I would see an older man in an old military uniform. I did not mention this to my kids but my son saw him in my room several times and my daughter felt the same presence. They both told me separately. I don't know who it is but he's been back a few times recently.
I've experienced other things but these are the strongest.
After my mom passed, I did not feel her and it frustrated me. I tried and tried and begged for a sign. A very good friend told me it was most likely my walls and that when I was able to feel her, I would. Yet, I got nothing. And it ticked me off. I did have a friend who made a connection with her. She had a dream that my mom told her to tell me she was okay. I believed that but was still frustrated that she got the contact and not me. Months later I had a dream that my mom called me on a broken pay phone and said, "I've crossed over." Those would be words she would use.
When my dad died last May, I felt different. With my mom, I have not felt her at all. My dad however, seems to be here. I feel his energy. Not all of the time and not often but I do. Shortly after he passed I was half asleep at his house and I heard his voice, clear as day, say my name. Then nothing for some time. Recently I had a dream that I was walking with him and I asked if it was really him and he said yes. I then asked if he could hear me talk to him and he said, "Yes, I hear you." I woke up hoping and doubting that was a visit but I can't help but want it to have been.
I have always been close to my parents. I thought that when they passed, if they could, they would be around. But I wanted to feel them and I really haven't felt them at all. It's not as if I wanted them hanging out with me daily but I wanted to have a sense of them.
Last week two of those expensive energy smart bulbs blew in my kitchen. The next day the microwave sparked and stopped functioning. I was not happy. That week I also joined a website that deals with the metaphysical. I wanted to see if the things I've experienced could be real or just me hoping and wishing. I signed up for a medium to call me and do a reading. The odds were slim I'd get the call but I did. Last night.
As much of a cynic as I am, I had to admit to being freaked at the clarity of it all. He mentioned immediately things that he could have researched and discovered but then he mentioned something that very few people, including my husband knew. If it was my mom and dad, they would have known this but it was not in any way public knowledge.
And he told me that my father has been here messing with my electricity. He said not flicking lights on and off but blowing things up. Yeah, dad owes me a new microwave now. I was sort of floored at that too because he wouldn't have known about it, either.
The medium said two specific things that made me feel he was actually talking to my parents. Things they could not have researched with the limited information they had. How is that possible? I have to have faith that it is. That there really is something else out there and that my parents are still here with me, maybe not all of the time but still here. Goodness, I'll never be able to have sex again! :)
I'm still processing all of the information but I'll work through it. For those that don't believe, I have to say I was taking that route recently but with this, I can't help but think there's something more and maybe, just maybe if we open ourselves up to the possibility, we'll see. Maybe if we break down the walls of doubt, they're there, knocking for us to let them in.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
A Revelation of Sorts...
Ever had one of those light bulbs go off over top of your head? Okay, I'm talking figuratively, not in the literal sense. I've had a few and though most haven't been life-altering, some have certainly come close. Take the most recent one. It hit home more like a brick to the head instead of a light bulb above it but I think that was my higher power trying to make a point.
For years I have said "I'm prepared for my parents to die" and I meant it. I truly believed that and still do. Both mom and dad have never taken great care of themselves and I firmly believe that had it not been for my (step)mother, my father would already be gone. Truth be told, I never thought my mother would beat him to Heaven. Their ill health and lack of desire to improve it have kept me reality based. I knew they would die at some point. Everything dies. Isn't that something we learn at some point in our childhood? So yes, I was completely prepared for my mother's death. What I was not prepared for however, was my mother to be dead. There's the light bulb moment.
Make sense?
My point is that I was ready for her to physically pass. I didn't want her to be in pain and I didn't want her to suffer, even just a little. I know she didn't want to so I accepted her decision not to fight her cancer (it wouldn't have mattered anyway)and did what I could to keep her comfortable in her last months. I was with her as she literally took her last breath and I knew it was her last. I could feel it in my bones.
Looking back, all of that was the easy part. The hard part is the now. The time after the dying. The dead part. I was not and am still not prepared for my mother to be dead.
I don't know exactly what I was thinking through her last few months because I know I didn't want her to die and I did think about what it would be like when she was gone but the problem with that is you can't really know. You think you know but you don't. So now I spend my days doing whatever it is I have to do with this huge monkey on my back. My mom is dead. Gone. Forever. And while I believe in Heaven and I feel, in my heart of hearts that I will see her again, I struggle with the "what if?" of it all. I was not prepared for her to be dead.
I wasn't prepared for the empty, lonely feeling one has when they go to pick up the phone to call their mom and realize they can't. I wasn't prepared for packing up her clothes for Goodwill and not being able to smell her because I'm so damn anal retentive and washed her clothes all of the time. I wasn't prepared to be fine one minute and a crumbled, emotional wreck the next.
I wasn't prepared for most everyone to not understand. I wasn't prepared for my husband to have the need to fix things and make me instantly better. Though truthfully, I should have expected that. I wasn't prepared to have to talk about this on other people's terms because honestly, death is ugly and people don't really want to know how you're feeling. They ask to feel good about themselves but they don't want the truth. As Jack Nicholas says, "You can't handle the truth". It's true. Unless you have lost a parent or someone at that level of closeness to you, you cannot possible understand. Sure, you think you can but you can't. Someday you will but don't pretend because us grievers, we can see through it. We're in the know and you simply aren't. Thanks for trying but a simple, "I'm sorry" is much better than anything else you can say.
I wasn't prepared for the realization that I will spend probably more than half of my life without my mom. Today I spoke to a friend whose mother died last year. She's 60 years old and said, "I know I should feel lucky that I had my mom for 60 years but I don't. It wasn't enough time." You can never have enough time with the people you love. I suspect we'll all feel cheated each time someone we love dies. It's the way our hearts work, I guess.
I've spent the last month and a half not interested in a whole lot of anything. For several years I used a lot of emotional and physical energy to care for my mom and now I have this huge empty space and honestly, I don't know what the hell to do with it. Most everything that used to be important to me, isn't now. My 60 year old friend told me today it will be again and that it just takes time. She said to cut myself some slack but I've never been good at that.
I know my mother wouldn't want me to feel this way but really, when have I truly done what my mom wanted? Why change now, you know? I don't want to shock her or anything! Personally, I don't want to feel this way either and have been smacking myself in the head trying to figure out how to move forward but I'm not sure it's something I can make happen. I think it's a process and I have to work through it. I do know that I have to force myself to do things, like exercise and stop eating everything I see. I feel better when I exercise and I berate myself for not eating properly so having these things not going how they should just makes things harder. I keep telling myself I'll work on them, tomorrow. Yet tomorrow comes and I sit and try to figure out who I am now that I'm Carolyn-without-a-mom. I don't like it and I'm really sick of feeling this way. Tomorrow I will start to do right by myself. Or so I say.
I have learned that while 'death' itself is a process and an experience, in this case, it's not mine, it's my mom's. She died. Her death is about her and not about what it has done or is doing to me. She owns it and she's gone from this place to another and I'm pretty sure she's all right with that. I'm not angry and I'm not bitter. I haven't felt the resentment some feel and I haven't bargained for her to 'return' or to feel better. Again, it would require me to give a rats butt and I just don't much care about anything. But while her dying is about her, her being dead is about me and that is something I have to find a way to accept. Though accept might not be the right word. I accept that she is dead. Hard not to accept the obvious, right? I just have to learn to live with the obvious. It's a different life for me and as with anything new, I'm still trying to work my way through it.
When I get to where ever it is I'm supposed to get, if I do, I'll let you know.
For years I have said "I'm prepared for my parents to die" and I meant it. I truly believed that and still do. Both mom and dad have never taken great care of themselves and I firmly believe that had it not been for my (step)mother, my father would already be gone. Truth be told, I never thought my mother would beat him to Heaven. Their ill health and lack of desire to improve it have kept me reality based. I knew they would die at some point. Everything dies. Isn't that something we learn at some point in our childhood? So yes, I was completely prepared for my mother's death. What I was not prepared for however, was my mother to be dead. There's the light bulb moment.
Make sense?
My point is that I was ready for her to physically pass. I didn't want her to be in pain and I didn't want her to suffer, even just a little. I know she didn't want to so I accepted her decision not to fight her cancer (it wouldn't have mattered anyway)and did what I could to keep her comfortable in her last months. I was with her as she literally took her last breath and I knew it was her last. I could feel it in my bones.
Looking back, all of that was the easy part. The hard part is the now. The time after the dying. The dead part. I was not and am still not prepared for my mother to be dead.
I don't know exactly what I was thinking through her last few months because I know I didn't want her to die and I did think about what it would be like when she was gone but the problem with that is you can't really know. You think you know but you don't. So now I spend my days doing whatever it is I have to do with this huge monkey on my back. My mom is dead. Gone. Forever. And while I believe in Heaven and I feel, in my heart of hearts that I will see her again, I struggle with the "what if?" of it all. I was not prepared for her to be dead.
I wasn't prepared for the empty, lonely feeling one has when they go to pick up the phone to call their mom and realize they can't. I wasn't prepared for packing up her clothes for Goodwill and not being able to smell her because I'm so damn anal retentive and washed her clothes all of the time. I wasn't prepared to be fine one minute and a crumbled, emotional wreck the next.
I wasn't prepared for most everyone to not understand. I wasn't prepared for my husband to have the need to fix things and make me instantly better. Though truthfully, I should have expected that. I wasn't prepared to have to talk about this on other people's terms because honestly, death is ugly and people don't really want to know how you're feeling. They ask to feel good about themselves but they don't want the truth. As Jack Nicholas says, "You can't handle the truth". It's true. Unless you have lost a parent or someone at that level of closeness to you, you cannot possible understand. Sure, you think you can but you can't. Someday you will but don't pretend because us grievers, we can see through it. We're in the know and you simply aren't. Thanks for trying but a simple, "I'm sorry" is much better than anything else you can say.
I wasn't prepared for the realization that I will spend probably more than half of my life without my mom. Today I spoke to a friend whose mother died last year. She's 60 years old and said, "I know I should feel lucky that I had my mom for 60 years but I don't. It wasn't enough time." You can never have enough time with the people you love. I suspect we'll all feel cheated each time someone we love dies. It's the way our hearts work, I guess.
I've spent the last month and a half not interested in a whole lot of anything. For several years I used a lot of emotional and physical energy to care for my mom and now I have this huge empty space and honestly, I don't know what the hell to do with it. Most everything that used to be important to me, isn't now. My 60 year old friend told me today it will be again and that it just takes time. She said to cut myself some slack but I've never been good at that.
I know my mother wouldn't want me to feel this way but really, when have I truly done what my mom wanted? Why change now, you know? I don't want to shock her or anything! Personally, I don't want to feel this way either and have been smacking myself in the head trying to figure out how to move forward but I'm not sure it's something I can make happen. I think it's a process and I have to work through it. I do know that I have to force myself to do things, like exercise and stop eating everything I see. I feel better when I exercise and I berate myself for not eating properly so having these things not going how they should just makes things harder. I keep telling myself I'll work on them, tomorrow. Yet tomorrow comes and I sit and try to figure out who I am now that I'm Carolyn-without-a-mom. I don't like it and I'm really sick of feeling this way. Tomorrow I will start to do right by myself. Or so I say.
I have learned that while 'death' itself is a process and an experience, in this case, it's not mine, it's my mom's. She died. Her death is about her and not about what it has done or is doing to me. She owns it and she's gone from this place to another and I'm pretty sure she's all right with that. I'm not angry and I'm not bitter. I haven't felt the resentment some feel and I haven't bargained for her to 'return' or to feel better. Again, it would require me to give a rats butt and I just don't much care about anything. But while her dying is about her, her being dead is about me and that is something I have to find a way to accept. Though accept might not be the right word. I accept that she is dead. Hard not to accept the obvious, right? I just have to learn to live with the obvious. It's a different life for me and as with anything new, I'm still trying to work my way through it.
When I get to where ever it is I'm supposed to get, if I do, I'll let you know.
A Poem About Gaining Weight
I've been gaining weight. That's what happens when you eat large amounts of food and don't exercise. I actually enjoy exercising but since my mom passed, I just haven't felt like doing any of the things that were important to me before. Except eating, of course. Eating is more important to me than it used to be.
The good news is that I've figured out what I'm doing and I've not gained THAT much weight that I can't fix the problem. The bad news is that I still just don't give a crap enough to do what I need to do.
See my problem?
I've thought about major full-body lipo but that's quite costly and with my husband starting a new business, probably not the smartest decision. I've prayed for thin thighs and then I gained four pounds. Really? I'm sure there's a message in there somewhere but I fail to see it right now.
I've given myself until Monday. On Monday if my lazy butt isn't back at the gym on a regular basis and if my mouth isn't closed past 1400 calories (yes, that number is correct, keep your panties on) then I'm going to duct tape it shut and lock myself in my gym overnight.
A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
In light of my weight gain, I searched online for weight gain poems. I found one I enjoyed by Barbara Warnock. I'm copying it here because it's a joy to read.
Hopefully Monday you'll read a post about my wonderful work out and how sore I am.
Here's Barbara's poem.
"I'll start a new one Monday", we've heard it all before,
but if I don't really start one soon I won't make it through the door.
I start with good intentions of that I can't deny,
I'm getting fatter by the hour, I'll really have to try.
So no more chips or chocolate, no more 'pigging out'
I'll be very careful of what I eat, of that there'll be no doubt.
I'll watch my waist get tiny, I'll watch my figure thin,
Oh what a joy it's going to be to at last be nice and slim.
I can see me walking down the street in dress size number ten,
(from Carolyn: NOOOO!!! 4!)
I just have to resist and resist I will when I get a hungry yen.
With exercise in every form and regular daily jogs,
you'll see me lazing by the pool in my top designer togs.
So come join me all you tubbies, come join with me at last,
I'll need all the help that I can get to get me through this fast.
If you see me eating lollies or sneaking greasy fries,
then smack my hand and click your tongue, remind me of my size.
I'm sure that I can make it, I just need a little space
before Monday comes around again, till then I'll "stuff my face"!
The good news is that I've figured out what I'm doing and I've not gained THAT much weight that I can't fix the problem. The bad news is that I still just don't give a crap enough to do what I need to do.
See my problem?
I've thought about major full-body lipo but that's quite costly and with my husband starting a new business, probably not the smartest decision. I've prayed for thin thighs and then I gained four pounds. Really? I'm sure there's a message in there somewhere but I fail to see it right now.
I've given myself until Monday. On Monday if my lazy butt isn't back at the gym on a regular basis and if my mouth isn't closed past 1400 calories (yes, that number is correct, keep your panties on) then I'm going to duct tape it shut and lock myself in my gym overnight.
A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
In light of my weight gain, I searched online for weight gain poems. I found one I enjoyed by Barbara Warnock. I'm copying it here because it's a joy to read.
Hopefully Monday you'll read a post about my wonderful work out and how sore I am.
Here's Barbara's poem.
"I'll start a new one Monday", we've heard it all before,
but if I don't really start one soon I won't make it through the door.
I start with good intentions of that I can't deny,
I'm getting fatter by the hour, I'll really have to try.
So no more chips or chocolate, no more 'pigging out'
I'll be very careful of what I eat, of that there'll be no doubt.
I'll watch my waist get tiny, I'll watch my figure thin,
Oh what a joy it's going to be to at last be nice and slim.
I can see me walking down the street in dress size number ten,
(from Carolyn: NOOOO!!! 4!)
I just have to resist and resist I will when I get a hungry yen.
With exercise in every form and regular daily jogs,
you'll see me lazing by the pool in my top designer togs.
So come join me all you tubbies, come join with me at last,
I'll need all the help that I can get to get me through this fast.
If you see me eating lollies or sneaking greasy fries,
then smack my hand and click your tongue, remind me of my size.
I'm sure that I can make it, I just need a little space
before Monday comes around again, till then I'll "stuff my face"!
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Dead is Dead
I have experienced death up close, personally. Not personally in the sense of some white light beckoning me or my spirit floating above my body only to be shocked back via some electric current. I’ve experienced death as a bystander. In reality, the bystander side seems like it’s probably worse. We’re left here to deal with death and its ugliness.
I literally watched my mother die. I curled my body into hers as she lay dying and watched her breathing go from rapid and labored to slow and infrequent and then just stop. People have expressed sadness at not being there when a loved one passed but I was there and there was nothing beautiful or peaceful about it. She didn’t look at peace. She didn’t look asleep. She just looked dead. And I felt dead. If I knew...if I felt she was ‘there’ before it happened...if I felt maybe she could hear what my brother and I were saying to her I might feel some sense of relief but I think she was gone already. Her body focused solely on her most important organs, not interested in anything other than basic survival and when that became too much, she just stopped being. It didn’t provide me with any consolation prize...any relief. Dead is dead.
I have always believed in an afterlife and I still do. I believe there is a God and my God has a Son who died for me and everyone else who has accepted him into their lives. This isn’t a question for me. It just is. Maybe I don’t always get what it means but it’s sort of like taxes. It is what it is and I accept it. I have also always believed that those who have died can somehow still communicate, be near or keep tabs on their loved ones still here. I’ve had experiences that have led me to believe this to be true. I never questioned it. Again, it’s one of those things that just is.
My mother and I often talked of her passing. I could talk easily of it because it wasn’t real. Once it became real, just thinking the words choked me up so saying them was impossible. But we had an agreement. She promised she would let me know she’s okay and I felt it was a sure thing, that once she was gone she’d find a way uniquely her own, to tell me she made it, was safe, happy, healthy or whatever and I’d know. I’d know she was where she was supposed to be.
It’s been a month now and I’m still waiting. I don’t question where she is. Her heart was golden and I believe she deserves Heaven and its glory and I’m sure she’s there living it up with those she loves who left before her. That isn’t my concern. What’s so upsetting to me is that I haven’t had my sign. Yes, shortly after she died I saw a lovely heart cloud pass over me but really, a cloud can be shaped like anything and that just wasn’t obvious enough for me. I was hoping for something more substantial. Something personal and something uniquely mom. I thought I’d dream of her. Nada. I got nothing. No dreams. No cold air on the back of my neck. No doors opening or pictures moving. No scent of her. Nothing. Dead is dead.
My whole belief system is shaken and stirred. What if she can’t contact me? What if that concept is just a pile of crap thrown upon us grievers to make us feel better? I’m beginning to wonder. Let’s face the facts. If you are a Christian and believe in Heaven and that it is truly what we’re taught, then truthfully, why would anyone in their right minds want to come back and even peek into the reality of earth? Seriously. Yes, they care for us and they love us but from what I understand once they’re gone they don’t have any care for earthly matters. And I’m starting to think that includes us. Not that we’re not still loved but that they see things differently and understand what we cannot possibly understand so they move on and know that eventually we will too, or not.
I hate that.
For me that means my mother is gone. She’s not ‘still with me’. She’s not ‘watching over me’. She’s just gone. Dead is dead. This theory is beginning to take shape in my heart because I don’t feel her. I don’t feel her around me. I don’t feel her inside me. I don’t feel like she’s still here, in my heart. I just feel like she’s dead. I feel this empty space deep within my soul and there’s no spirit floating around waiting for the right time to enter and fill me with peace.
Some people say I’m too involved in my grief to feel her. That I will, once I’m adjusted. Really? Listen people, the thing about death that really sucks is that life goes on. Every day happens whether you want it to or not. Whether I feel like getting up and facing the day, it’s there and I can’t just sit and dwell on the fact that my mother is gone. It is what it is and while I’m sad and I miss her, I’m really just pissed off. And not at the fact that she died. I’m pissed off because I thought I’d still feel her...that she’d ‘always be with me’ even though she was gone. I don’t. Dead is dead.
Maybe eventually I’ll feel differently about it. Maybe I’m in the middle of some step of the grieving process and tomorrow I’ll progress to the next step. Who knows? I’m not reading up on it. I don’t want to plan out my grieving. It is what it is and I just have to work with what I’ve got which sadly, right now, is nothing.
I know I’ll work through this and for the most part, I’ve come to accept the fact that my mother died and isn’t here. I still talk to her because on the off chance that she can hear me, I don’t want the backlash when I see her again because I didn’t talk to her. Heaven may be a wonderful place but God has no power over a pissed off mother. That’s one thing I’m sure of.
I literally watched my mother die. I curled my body into hers as she lay dying and watched her breathing go from rapid and labored to slow and infrequent and then just stop. People have expressed sadness at not being there when a loved one passed but I was there and there was nothing beautiful or peaceful about it. She didn’t look at peace. She didn’t look asleep. She just looked dead. And I felt dead. If I knew...if I felt she was ‘there’ before it happened...if I felt maybe she could hear what my brother and I were saying to her I might feel some sense of relief but I think she was gone already. Her body focused solely on her most important organs, not interested in anything other than basic survival and when that became too much, she just stopped being. It didn’t provide me with any consolation prize...any relief. Dead is dead.
I have always believed in an afterlife and I still do. I believe there is a God and my God has a Son who died for me and everyone else who has accepted him into their lives. This isn’t a question for me. It just is. Maybe I don’t always get what it means but it’s sort of like taxes. It is what it is and I accept it. I have also always believed that those who have died can somehow still communicate, be near or keep tabs on their loved ones still here. I’ve had experiences that have led me to believe this to be true. I never questioned it. Again, it’s one of those things that just is.
My mother and I often talked of her passing. I could talk easily of it because it wasn’t real. Once it became real, just thinking the words choked me up so saying them was impossible. But we had an agreement. She promised she would let me know she’s okay and I felt it was a sure thing, that once she was gone she’d find a way uniquely her own, to tell me she made it, was safe, happy, healthy or whatever and I’d know. I’d know she was where she was supposed to be.
It’s been a month now and I’m still waiting. I don’t question where she is. Her heart was golden and I believe she deserves Heaven and its glory and I’m sure she’s there living it up with those she loves who left before her. That isn’t my concern. What’s so upsetting to me is that I haven’t had my sign. Yes, shortly after she died I saw a lovely heart cloud pass over me but really, a cloud can be shaped like anything and that just wasn’t obvious enough for me. I was hoping for something more substantial. Something personal and something uniquely mom. I thought I’d dream of her. Nada. I got nothing. No dreams. No cold air on the back of my neck. No doors opening or pictures moving. No scent of her. Nothing. Dead is dead.
My whole belief system is shaken and stirred. What if she can’t contact me? What if that concept is just a pile of crap thrown upon us grievers to make us feel better? I’m beginning to wonder. Let’s face the facts. If you are a Christian and believe in Heaven and that it is truly what we’re taught, then truthfully, why would anyone in their right minds want to come back and even peek into the reality of earth? Seriously. Yes, they care for us and they love us but from what I understand once they’re gone they don’t have any care for earthly matters. And I’m starting to think that includes us. Not that we’re not still loved but that they see things differently and understand what we cannot possibly understand so they move on and know that eventually we will too, or not.
I hate that.
For me that means my mother is gone. She’s not ‘still with me’. She’s not ‘watching over me’. She’s just gone. Dead is dead. This theory is beginning to take shape in my heart because I don’t feel her. I don’t feel her around me. I don’t feel her inside me. I don’t feel like she’s still here, in my heart. I just feel like she’s dead. I feel this empty space deep within my soul and there’s no spirit floating around waiting for the right time to enter and fill me with peace.
Some people say I’m too involved in my grief to feel her. That I will, once I’m adjusted. Really? Listen people, the thing about death that really sucks is that life goes on. Every day happens whether you want it to or not. Whether I feel like getting up and facing the day, it’s there and I can’t just sit and dwell on the fact that my mother is gone. It is what it is and while I’m sad and I miss her, I’m really just pissed off. And not at the fact that she died. I’m pissed off because I thought I’d still feel her...that she’d ‘always be with me’ even though she was gone. I don’t. Dead is dead.
Maybe eventually I’ll feel differently about it. Maybe I’m in the middle of some step of the grieving process and tomorrow I’ll progress to the next step. Who knows? I’m not reading up on it. I don’t want to plan out my grieving. It is what it is and I just have to work with what I’ve got which sadly, right now, is nothing.
I know I’ll work through this and for the most part, I’ve come to accept the fact that my mother died and isn’t here. I still talk to her because on the off chance that she can hear me, I don’t want the backlash when I see her again because I didn’t talk to her. Heaven may be a wonderful place but God has no power over a pissed off mother. That’s one thing I’m sure of.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
The 100 Things in 100 Days is OUTTA HERE!
But not because I don't WANT to do it. Because I've thought and thought and thought and decided I'm right...it's too much, too soon and some of the things I want to do won't be possible in a day. Instead, I'm doing 100 things in 1 year. I can't do the 100 things in 1001 days because frankly, that's too long and I'll lose my umph. Not that I even have my umph yet but I'm hoping to either acquire some or buy some at the umph store today. I really need the umph.
I'm also thinking that I need a theme for this. A "stepping out of my comfort zone" thing or a "what the hell am I thinking" theme. I'm working on that. I could do a simple, "100 things to do to torture my children in 1 year" theme but that wouldn't be nice. Fun, but not nice. So I'm working on the theme and working on the things and my goal is to have them done by the end of the week.
On a similar note...I've spent the last few months taking care of my mom and really thinking about her life. The person she was, the person I saw and the person I wanted her to be. It's taught me a lot and damn if I didn't get the chance to tell her before she passed. I wanted to but I didn't want her to be sad. I did tell her many things and some things I didn't need to because she just knew. We were close and though she was a far better person than I can ever hope to be, she thought I was okay and saw the good in me even when I was a royal bitch.
My mother lived her life FOR EVERYONE ELSE. Her parents. Her husband. Her children. Her grandchildren. She moved to GA to help me with my kids so I could work when she was in her late 60's. In 2001 she had routine open heart surgery to replace her mitro-valve and stroked. Her life changed completely. So my mother spent HER WHOLE LIFE taking care of others and doing things for other people. She truly never had any free time to do what she wanted without the responsibility of others. At the point of her stroke she was helping me and then 9 years later she died and she never got the chance to just live her life for herself. That breaks my heart.
I've been thinking about that. In some ways, I've sort of done that since getting married. I gave up my career shortly after her stroke because of 911 - I felt uncomfortable traveling while my husband was doing the same. I stayed home and became a full time mom. I've been 'waiting' for my kids to grow up. Waiting until they could stay home alone and then maybe I could take some time for me. Then with my mother needing me, I waited more. Now my kids are older but I haven't felt like I can stop waiting because the girls are teenagers and they almost need me more even though they don't see it that way. Also, my husband has had a great career and I have been waiting until it is set and then I can do for me. Now his career has shifted and he's started his own business so alas, I wait again.
I don't want to wait and wait until I am dead and can't do what's right for me. I'm not as selfless as my mother. I don't like waiting. And the problem is, I've become so accustomed to it, so BORED, that I really don't feel like I want to do anything.
So that's the reason for the 100 things in 1 year.
Here's where you insert the shit to another subject:
I just purchased a DVD for T Tapping. It's "a total body workout that can deliver major inch-loss quickly". My sister in law swears by it. She said she lost 1 inch on her butt last week. I could do cardio and weights for 24 hours a day for a year and not do that. So the DVD is $20 right now and I bought it. I'll have it in 8 days (shipping is like snail mail with UPS these days unless you pay out the wazoo). I'm going to do it. It's 15 minutes a day and since I'm bored and waiting, 15 minutes shouldn't break my time bank, right? Just something to add to my weight loss program that really should be considered a weight gain program.
Apparently I have to (eeks!) MEASURE MY BODY before I start and then measure again in a week. I'm worried that the first measuring will send me into a major depression and I'll eat myself to my death but I'm going to hide myself in my bathroom, measure and then cry until I can't cry any more and then T Tap. For those of you hundreds of people who read this silly blog (not!) the website is http://www.t-tapp.com/
I have to figure out how to link on this thing.
Okay. So that's where I'm at. I've got to run now and figure out what to put on my list and what theme to go with. Wish me luck. I need it!
I'm also thinking that I need a theme for this. A "stepping out of my comfort zone" thing or a "what the hell am I thinking" theme. I'm working on that. I could do a simple, "100 things to do to torture my children in 1 year" theme but that wouldn't be nice. Fun, but not nice. So I'm working on the theme and working on the things and my goal is to have them done by the end of the week.
On a similar note...I've spent the last few months taking care of my mom and really thinking about her life. The person she was, the person I saw and the person I wanted her to be. It's taught me a lot and damn if I didn't get the chance to tell her before she passed. I wanted to but I didn't want her to be sad. I did tell her many things and some things I didn't need to because she just knew. We were close and though she was a far better person than I can ever hope to be, she thought I was okay and saw the good in me even when I was a royal bitch.
My mother lived her life FOR EVERYONE ELSE. Her parents. Her husband. Her children. Her grandchildren. She moved to GA to help me with my kids so I could work when she was in her late 60's. In 2001 she had routine open heart surgery to replace her mitro-valve and stroked. Her life changed completely. So my mother spent HER WHOLE LIFE taking care of others and doing things for other people. She truly never had any free time to do what she wanted without the responsibility of others. At the point of her stroke she was helping me and then 9 years later she died and she never got the chance to just live her life for herself. That breaks my heart.
I've been thinking about that. In some ways, I've sort of done that since getting married. I gave up my career shortly after her stroke because of 911 - I felt uncomfortable traveling while my husband was doing the same. I stayed home and became a full time mom. I've been 'waiting' for my kids to grow up. Waiting until they could stay home alone and then maybe I could take some time for me. Then with my mother needing me, I waited more. Now my kids are older but I haven't felt like I can stop waiting because the girls are teenagers and they almost need me more even though they don't see it that way. Also, my husband has had a great career and I have been waiting until it is set and then I can do for me. Now his career has shifted and he's started his own business so alas, I wait again.
I don't want to wait and wait until I am dead and can't do what's right for me. I'm not as selfless as my mother. I don't like waiting. And the problem is, I've become so accustomed to it, so BORED, that I really don't feel like I want to do anything.
So that's the reason for the 100 things in 1 year.
Here's where you insert the shit to another subject:
I just purchased a DVD for T Tapping. It's "a total body workout that can deliver major inch-loss quickly". My sister in law swears by it. She said she lost 1 inch on her butt last week. I could do cardio and weights for 24 hours a day for a year and not do that. So the DVD is $20 right now and I bought it. I'll have it in 8 days (shipping is like snail mail with UPS these days unless you pay out the wazoo). I'm going to do it. It's 15 minutes a day and since I'm bored and waiting, 15 minutes shouldn't break my time bank, right? Just something to add to my weight loss program that really should be considered a weight gain program.
Apparently I have to (eeks!) MEASURE MY BODY before I start and then measure again in a week. I'm worried that the first measuring will send me into a major depression and I'll eat myself to my death but I'm going to hide myself in my bathroom, measure and then cry until I can't cry any more and then T Tap. For those of you hundreds of people who read this silly blog (not!) the website is http://www.t-tapp.com/
I have to figure out how to link on this thing.
Okay. So that's where I'm at. I've got to run now and figure out what to put on my list and what theme to go with. Wish me luck. I need it!
Friday, July 17, 2009
Rethinking the Whole 100 Things in 100 Days Idea...
It's not that I don't 'want' to do it. It's more that maybe I need to rethink the time frame. The people who started the "100 Things in 1001 Days" are probably right. It's easier to extend the time. Some things I just won't be able to get done in that short of a time frame. Plus, some things will require more time. So I'm going to rethink the time frame and once I figure out a reasonable amount of time, I'll start.
Probably in about 10 years. Okay, maybe not but close. At least that's the way I'm feeling right now. Overwhelmed. Tired. Fat. BUT...the good news is that I'm going to do this. Most likely. If I can motivate myself. No, wait. I AM going to do this just after I get my list done.
Wow, I need help, don't I? Geesh.
Probably in about 10 years. Okay, maybe not but close. At least that's the way I'm feeling right now. Overwhelmed. Tired. Fat. BUT...the good news is that I'm going to do this. Most likely. If I can motivate myself. No, wait. I AM going to do this just after I get my list done.
Wow, I need help, don't I? Geesh.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
When Life Gives You Lemons, Throw Them in the Face of Someone Who Really Pisses You Off!
It has not been a good week but not for lack of trying. Some say it's hard to remain positive and have a good outlook on life when your mother dies. Yeah, I can see that but I have really, really tried hard to keep focused on the normalcy of my life even though there's this huge, empty space in my heart where my mother once lived. Now she's gone and the world, surprisingly goes on without her. And that really pisses me off.
I see her things...her shoes on the floor in the den. They just sit there, almost waiting for her to put them on. The shoes don't move. Neither does her robe hanging in the closet waiting to be worn again. Suddenly these items have taken on a life for me. I touch them, try to find her smell in them but get nothing but fabric softener. Maybe clothes washing is over rated?
I give these things life but the world does not. It continues to move and function with one less person and virtually no sadness for the loss. Me, I'm on auto-pilot most of the day, doing my best to function normally, acting as if my mother being dead is no big deal. Life must go on, right? There's bills to pay, businesses to start, bowling for .97 cents a game. The car needed an oil change and the kids needed haircuts. What is supposed to happen has to happen. It's the process.
Screw the process. Really. I'm over it. I sit up at night, staring into the shadows on my wall, hoping my mother will appear and look happy, healthy and at peace. She doesn't and it's a pretty good chance she never will but still, I look. It's better than closing my eyes and trying to sleep. Nights and mornings are the hardest. I'll make it through - already have. It's been one week and almost one full day of my life without my mom and well, I'm still breathing so I figure there's only the rest of my life to go.
One would think that during this time, things would be easier for me. I'd get support and help and consideration. One would think. And to be honest, I have from many people, some entirely unexpected and for all of them, I am truly grateful.
What's surprising to me is the way that I'm expected to just move on like nothing has happened, continue to focus on everyone else, as always - and not get pissed off that I have to do that. That maybe, for the next few weeks or so, I might need a little kindness, not pressure, not aruging, not the expectation to be the person I was on June 29th, the day before my life changed completely. That I should put my needs, my feelings and my heartbreak aside because, well, others have stuff going on too, you know. Their lives do not revolve around me yet, I'm still supposed to make sure mine does around them.
Maybe people are just trying to keep everything normal, like nothing ever happened...maybe so I can feel normal but the thing is, I will never, ever feel that kind of normal again. Life as I lived it before is over. This is a new phase, the one without a mom and someone has to understand that and help me find my way in this new phase without expecting too much from me right now.
If you know anyone like that, please let me know. I'd like to rent them.
I'd like to complain more but for reasons I can't explain, I feel badly for doing it as much as I have already in this blog so I won't.
To the people who have been there for me and all of my wonderful FB friends who sent me cards, emails, flowers...you have shown me a side of humanity I truly forgot existed and I am very grateful to that.
I see her things...her shoes on the floor in the den. They just sit there, almost waiting for her to put them on. The shoes don't move. Neither does her robe hanging in the closet waiting to be worn again. Suddenly these items have taken on a life for me. I touch them, try to find her smell in them but get nothing but fabric softener. Maybe clothes washing is over rated?
I give these things life but the world does not. It continues to move and function with one less person and virtually no sadness for the loss. Me, I'm on auto-pilot most of the day, doing my best to function normally, acting as if my mother being dead is no big deal. Life must go on, right? There's bills to pay, businesses to start, bowling for .97 cents a game. The car needed an oil change and the kids needed haircuts. What is supposed to happen has to happen. It's the process.
Screw the process. Really. I'm over it. I sit up at night, staring into the shadows on my wall, hoping my mother will appear and look happy, healthy and at peace. She doesn't and it's a pretty good chance she never will but still, I look. It's better than closing my eyes and trying to sleep. Nights and mornings are the hardest. I'll make it through - already have. It's been one week and almost one full day of my life without my mom and well, I'm still breathing so I figure there's only the rest of my life to go.
One would think that during this time, things would be easier for me. I'd get support and help and consideration. One would think. And to be honest, I have from many people, some entirely unexpected and for all of them, I am truly grateful.
What's surprising to me is the way that I'm expected to just move on like nothing has happened, continue to focus on everyone else, as always - and not get pissed off that I have to do that. That maybe, for the next few weeks or so, I might need a little kindness, not pressure, not aruging, not the expectation to be the person I was on June 29th, the day before my life changed completely. That I should put my needs, my feelings and my heartbreak aside because, well, others have stuff going on too, you know. Their lives do not revolve around me yet, I'm still supposed to make sure mine does around them.
Maybe people are just trying to keep everything normal, like nothing ever happened...maybe so I can feel normal but the thing is, I will never, ever feel that kind of normal again. Life as I lived it before is over. This is a new phase, the one without a mom and someone has to understand that and help me find my way in this new phase without expecting too much from me right now.
If you know anyone like that, please let me know. I'd like to rent them.
I'd like to complain more but for reasons I can't explain, I feel badly for doing it as much as I have already in this blog so I won't.
To the people who have been there for me and all of my wonderful FB friends who sent me cards, emails, flowers...you have shown me a side of humanity I truly forgot existed and I am very grateful to that.
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