A Spectacular Day

When thoughts swirl, I typically sit down to write when the house is quiet and still. But everyone is home...off from Christmas break. Hubby greets me early to see how I'm doing...dry-eyed still, grateful that he remembered, too. One year ago today...1:45am...I shared unforgettable moments with my Mom as she took her final breath. One year of firsts behind us...the first Mother's Day, her first birthday, Christmas and New Years without hearing her voice. For weeks I've pondered ways to make January 2 spectacular...donations to a local charity that supports grieving children, donations to the Cancer society...both seemed so impersonal. Making her favorite meal, chicken casserole with potato chips but then I realized that was MY favorite meal she prepared on visits to Pepper Road. The releasing of memory balloons...bad for the environment. So here we are...January 2 with no stellar way to celebrate, as I hide out in the guest bedroom and begin to settle the spinning thoughts.

 

Tearfully rereading my first blog posts documenting her fade from this world....realizing words were present tense as she was still with us. Later posts refreshed memories of gently hummed hymns and soft spoken words. Other entries reflect the fierce desire to hold fast to my renewed intention of living...so afraid they would fade with the bustle of daily life and it was all for nothing...glad to realize I am still changed, still seeking a life of intention, surrounding myself with those that inspire me to be a better person and fluffing my nest with things that bring me joy. It's virtually impossible to cross paths with the phenomenal and not leave unchanged.

 

 

 

Like so often when I begin to journal, stark realization comes.  Much like when the Grinch realizes that Christmas comes without packages and

bows, the day means a little bit more all on it's own.  There's no need to fabricate activities to make January 2 spectacular...it already is. Simply remembering her, holding fast to her beliefs, her Faith, now my own Faith, will make this January 2, and every January 2 to follow, spectacular. I'll hug my children and hubby a little tighter today, giving myself the grace to shed a few tears. I'll be gentle with myself ....grateful I have a family that is gentle with me, as well. I can't imagine a better way to remember Linda Kay Elliott.  

A Different Christmas

It just doesn't feel like Christmas yet...only three days away, most of the gifts are wrapped, the tree is up, the weather is unseasonably warm. Feeling like I should be more sad, heavy with deep remembrance. But I'm not. I'm content. Feet moving forward to satisfy the checklist, taking time to breathe and savor in between. I can only imagine it's a God-Thing....loads of prayer keep me from staying in bed all day long. Keeping my eyes heavenward keeps me from crying. Writing lets the truth bubble to the surface. Not saying I haven't had my moments, but 80% of the time I'm doing just fine. Thankful for friends that check in to see if I'm still breathing, I can almost predict those that will check in on Dec 25 and Jan 2. Two of the hardest days still to come. Moving forward with curious anticipation. Boarding an airplane to spend the holidays with dear friends...finally still and deep conversations expected, a few tears may spill. But in this moment, I'm content. Feeling like she was rescued and I'm truly overjoyed that she's no longer suffering...on so many levels. She's in the safest place of all. How can I be sad? I do miss hearing her soft voice always seeing the shiny side of things. I do miss her velvety soft hands in mine. I do miss snuggling up beside her in bed, each of us silently browsing the latest Women's Day magazines. I even miss her loud snores and that strange gurgling sound her belly made when she laid on her left side.

She raised me well...the best she could with the resources available. Now I'm making my own Christmas memories...mother-child memories. Recreating that silent snuggle with Maya as we browse thru our phones...her showing me the funniest videos and playing the most elusive tunes. Cole reaches over a squeezes my hand much more now... I love his adult sized hand in mine. Oftentimes, I'll slide up and check his pulse like Mom did when I was little...just to make sure all is well.

This Christmas indeed will be very different...but today, in this moment, different is very, very good.

 

 

Sucker Punch

It's the little things...the seemingly insignificant events that sucker punch while skipping oblivious thru the day. On a long overdue and lengthy drive to Westminster to check my questionable hearing, turning off the radio so I can listen to my own head thoughts completely unexpected Mom thoughts entered. My hearing has been a years-long issue that I've belittled and tried to self medicate, but it's pretty obvious that hearing is still lacking. Compensating with lip reading, but if not facing you, details are missed. Mom was worried, I was preoccupied. Rounding the corner into Westminster, I hear myself say how glad Mom would be that I'm finally following thru. Then realization that I can't call her to relieve her fears. Heaviness settles on the heart and stomach when I remember I no longer have a Mom. That I'm the sad member of the single parent club.

Later in the week, while shaking the guest bed comforter over the deck to scare off any stray puppy hairs, the sun caught the floating dust, fibers, particles and I remembered Mom was last to lay under that comforter. Little pieces of her floating away. It's silly, but it made me cry. Usually saved for the safety of my inner sanctum, I felt so exposed with the air hitting my wet lids. Would the neighbor think I'm loosing it? Will she think I'm weak? Will it provide yet another story for the gossip chain? Deep breath, drying eyes, task continued...stopping when needed and not caring who saw. This grief thing is pretty universal and if it hasn't hit your world yet, I'm thankful, but just wait. It'll tip your cart, too.

Tomorrow, I head south with friends to soak in the Myrtle Beach sunshine...fearful that I'll receive another unexpected sucker punch and deflate or that I'll be an uber buzz-kill. Packing my running shoes because they seem to help shake off the funk. Preparing for guests, the lack of recent sunshine, and one week into Claratin for the hearing issues has made me a zombie. I'm ready for some vitamin D, hearty belly laughs, and perhaps a few adult beverages.

 

  

Challenge - Mother's Day

This first week of May, counting down to Mother's Day, was filled with nervous expectation... similar to facing a massive cavity fill.  Knowing it would pinch, sear, ache but there was nothing you could do to stop it.  A year of first's then perhaps the ache would cease.  Saturday found me cheering on the sidelines in a day full of baseball games.  Not quite 100%... a little off.  Sitting in the glaring sun, no nearby trees, I spotted several Maple tree spinners spiral from the sky...gifts from Mom.  My family home has a massive Maple that drops ungodly amounts of seedlings, spinners, helicopters.  So
overwhelming and annoying.  Leaving so much to sweep that once, my Mom even attempted to vacuum them up.  It didn't fare so well for the vacuum.  I knew right away my little heaven sent spinners were a little inside joke. 

Mothers day came with an all day heaviness.  Head not even off pillow and tears falling.  Dear friends sent early texts checking on me, sending love.  Twenty-four hours of that forgetful belly-ache...as if I'd forgotten to call her then the sad realization that I no longer had that task. 

On a high note, Tim gave me the best distraction ever...tickets to see Prince that Mother's Day in Baltimore.  For the first time in months, I was excited, thrilled, cheering, smiling, I may or may not have even shed a few excited-fan-style tears of joy.  It was great evening.  I am truly blessed with a thoughtful hubby!

Four months have passed and I worry I'm sounding like a broken record...how much time is acceptable to grieve before friends and family have had enough?  When does the happy-guilt end?  This writing, it has become my therapy.  If I am helping anyone in this process it's myself...anyone else is simply a welcome ride-along.