Stream of Consciousness
I thought after Mom died I would be writing a lot. I thought the words would just flow like they usually do when my emotions run hot. Figured I'd be a best selling author by now. Instead the words just bounce around my head, nothing really coherent coming together. Maybe it's because I'm barely keeping it together. Unsurprisingly losing my Mom followed by a global pandemic hasn't been a walk in the park. The switch from Mom to Mom and Teacher and Chef and cleaning lady and boredom coordinator wasn't one I anticipated and isn't one I would willingly sign up for. Quiet moments are few and far between and if I am blessed with one I find myself staring at a wall just so I can gather my thoughts, figure out the last time I showered and determine what the next right thing is. Not writing.
I think about Mom all the time. But not too much. I can't dive in too deep because I'm afraid I won't resurface and thanks to the pandemic, I can't risk it. I cry once a day probably, but the ugly cries don't come as often. Maybe some day I will really dive into the grief. Or maybe I'll grieve in bits and pieces. I think for me that's easier. It enables me to carry on, because I have to, I don't have a choice. I don't think there's a wrong way to grieve. What would my Mom be doing in my shoes? She would be taking her of her family. So in a way, I'm honoring her by making sure my family is taken care of, making sure we help Dad when he can't stand on his own, and by finding a little time for me.
I have found a love of yoga since she died. I find it peaceful and challenging all at once. And I can touch my toes now which I have NEVER been able to do. I find myself craving deep breaths and length and grounding. She would like that.
Her birthday was last week. I pretty much forced my Dad to break quarantine and be with us. I couldn't stand the thought of him alone on her birthday. We honored her with some Random Acts of Kindness and we had 'a feast' as she would say (while raising both of her arms in the air before she sat down), and cake. It was weird. It's weird to be together without her. There is energy and laughter and joy missing.
Today is Mother's Day. Turns out today is much harder than her birthday. I find myself in a weird spot. One where I am so unbelievably grateful and filled with pride and love and joy at sight of the three humans I get to be Mom to but then I feel empty. A part of me is missing today. I want to talk to her so badly. I want to hear her voice, thank her and tell her Happy Mother's Day. I want to hear her tell me I'm doing a great job during this mess. One of my biggest life cheerleaders is gone. It feels a little lost actually. For 39 years I had a guiding light around if I needed it. And I know it's still there, it's within me now and she is hovering closeby (before she died we chose 'hover' over 'haunt' but I know that's a fine line should I head in the wrong direction). I wish the signs came more often. I wish I felt her presence more strongly sometimes.
Usually there's more cohesion when I write. I just can't find it lately. Maybe after this mess when we find our new normal I'll be able to piece things together more clearly.
A few things I wanted to tell her today...
I wanted to laugh with her about Mother's Day 5 years ago when my water broke and we met Mom and Dad for brunch anyway. And the whole time she was worried I was going to give birth right there in Salt Rock Tavern. I wasn't nearly as concerned and had two mimosas before heading to the hospital.
I wanted to tell her about the hornets nest we found inside the girls bedroom in the Georgia house because the windows were OPEN!
I wanted to tell her that she was right... it's ok for them to be messy. Their brains are too busy growing for them to be concerned with putting things away where they belong.
I wanted to tell her that as soon as this freaking quarantine is over and I get some time alone I can not wait to go wander around Homegoods and buy things I don't need.
Mostly I just want to tell her that I miss her. That we all miss her. THIS MUCH.
I think about Mom all the time. But not too much. I can't dive in too deep because I'm afraid I won't resurface and thanks to the pandemic, I can't risk it. I cry once a day probably, but the ugly cries don't come as often. Maybe some day I will really dive into the grief. Or maybe I'll grieve in bits and pieces. I think for me that's easier. It enables me to carry on, because I have to, I don't have a choice. I don't think there's a wrong way to grieve. What would my Mom be doing in my shoes? She would be taking her of her family. So in a way, I'm honoring her by making sure my family is taken care of, making sure we help Dad when he can't stand on his own, and by finding a little time for me.
I have found a love of yoga since she died. I find it peaceful and challenging all at once. And I can touch my toes now which I have NEVER been able to do. I find myself craving deep breaths and length and grounding. She would like that.
Her birthday was last week. I pretty much forced my Dad to break quarantine and be with us. I couldn't stand the thought of him alone on her birthday. We honored her with some Random Acts of Kindness and we had 'a feast' as she would say (while raising both of her arms in the air before she sat down), and cake. It was weird. It's weird to be together without her. There is energy and laughter and joy missing.
Today is Mother's Day. Turns out today is much harder than her birthday. I find myself in a weird spot. One where I am so unbelievably grateful and filled with pride and love and joy at sight of the three humans I get to be Mom to but then I feel empty. A part of me is missing today. I want to talk to her so badly. I want to hear her voice, thank her and tell her Happy Mother's Day. I want to hear her tell me I'm doing a great job during this mess. One of my biggest life cheerleaders is gone. It feels a little lost actually. For 39 years I had a guiding light around if I needed it. And I know it's still there, it's within me now and she is hovering closeby (before she died we chose 'hover' over 'haunt' but I know that's a fine line should I head in the wrong direction). I wish the signs came more often. I wish I felt her presence more strongly sometimes.
Usually there's more cohesion when I write. I just can't find it lately. Maybe after this mess when we find our new normal I'll be able to piece things together more clearly.
A few things I wanted to tell her today...
I wanted to laugh with her about Mother's Day 5 years ago when my water broke and we met Mom and Dad for brunch anyway. And the whole time she was worried I was going to give birth right there in Salt Rock Tavern. I wasn't nearly as concerned and had two mimosas before heading to the hospital.
I wanted to tell her about the hornets nest we found inside the girls bedroom in the Georgia house because the windows were OPEN!
I wanted to tell her that she was right... it's ok for them to be messy. Their brains are too busy growing for them to be concerned with putting things away where they belong.
I wanted to tell her that as soon as this freaking quarantine is over and I get some time alone I can not wait to go wander around Homegoods and buy things I don't need.
Mostly I just want to tell her that I miss her. That we all miss her. THIS MUCH.
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