Friday, January 11, 2013

Random Thoughts....

I miss doing crossword puzzles with Mom....

Random thoughts from Monday....

Today marked the official end of the holiday season.  The kids went back to school today. I am happy to get back into the routine of proper bedtimes, teeth brushing and less excess.  I act like the routine slowly kills me, but we work more efficiently on a schedule.  I can even see the difference in the kids.  We all sort of thrive on the sameness and the weekends help us break up the weekly drill.  

I felt sad and displaced all day.  The sadness isn't constant but it's always there. Like a bruise you forget you have and then bump into something and hit it right in that spot.  I saw two different grandmothers dropping off or picking up kids at preschool today.  I felt sorry for myself.  I watched something on TV where the woman said both of her parents had passed away and I thought, "I get that."  Damn why do I have to get that?  THAT of all things.

My sister told me the grocery clerk was exceptionally chatty today at her local market.  She ended up having a conversation in which she told the woman "My parents are both deceased and I don't really have any family around here."  We both talked about feeling so alone while sitting in a room filled with people celebrating the holidays.  

A few days ago I realized this is the longest period of time I've ever gone in my life without talking to Mom.  Everyday I think of all the little things that I want to tell her about.  

I had to turn the radio station in the car on Saturday because all I could remember was Lauren and my cousins daughter Taylor singing "If I Die Young" in my basement with my Mom and my Aunt Sandy.  Laughing and drinking and eating popcorn.  I broke down and Lauren reminded me of how Grandma Terry said "every time you see a monarch butterfly it's Grandpa Tom" and then she added, "now maybe it's Grandma too."  And I sobbed in the car driving home.

April 2012
Mom and Lauren checking out her artwork at school...

Random thoughts from today (Friday):

I went to Costco today and although I didn't cry, I was feeling sad and lonely that Mom wasn't with me.  What I think most people don't truly understand about this entire process is that the normal ordinary stuff slays you.  The big holiday hoop-la stuff, not so much.  It's like you brace yourself for the big stuff.  But the normal stuff just hits you in the gut.  Mom and I would make a "Costco run" (as we called them) and execute that store like ninjas.  She'd man the cart with Evan to get free samples and I'd whittle down my list in record speed.  Then we'd check out, get a snack and I'd unload the car while she put everything away in the cupboards.  (usually creating another organization project!  She hated my kids craft cupboard and complained that I wasn't utilizing the space properly!)

Another thing I'm guessing people don't understand is that I didn't need a sympathy card when my Mom died, I need one now, three months later.  I need to know that you haven't forgotten.  I need to know that you know that I'm still dying inside.  That I'm still piecing together the feelings of being 41 and both my parents are gone.  I need you to understand how hard it is that life just keeps moving on when nothing will ever be the same again.  I need you to be okay with my anger.

Selfish as it may be, I don't want to hear about all the joyous extended family togetherness you had over the holidays.  I took it for granted.  I'm sure you do too.  How can you not?  One doesn't focus on "let me be really present to the fact my mother is alive" when life is just life-ing along.  I'm bitter and jealous (temporarily) about the fact that your parents and grandparents and great grandparents are alive.
Mom with the kids in a vintage gondola, Stowe, VT, March 2012

I want you to keep talking and asking me about Mom and my family.  But be okay with the fact that I might cry or ramble when you ask me "how are you doing?"  I know you might not want to bring it up because you think it will make me sad but understand that some part of me will always be sad.  A little tiny piece of myself died the day my Mom died.

When my Dad died my sister and I would say, "Well, if someone had to go first, we are okay with the fact it was Dad and not Mom."  We adored our Dad.  He was one of the finest human beings, friends and hard workers I have ever known.  I loved him deeply and truly.  He taught me so much.  But there is something about your MOM.  Mom's are everything.  They are your whole world as a child and then if you are lucky enough, they become a close friend.

My soon to be 90 year old grandmother has to deal with the numbing pain of her child dying. She had to attend her daughter's funeral when she would have traded places with her no questions asked.  Hell if I can understand any of this.

I have days when I don't cry.  I have days when I simply can't shake the sadness.   Overall I think I'm doing pretty damn good.  I thank my lucky stars everyday that I have my sister.  I am so thankful for the crazy love and good times shared with my incredible Mother.  I had one of the best.

"When the love is big the pain is big."
~TLKA
Evan and Mom, Stowe, VT, March 2012 on a sleigh ride....

3 comments:

  1. You always bring tears to my eyes! I have heard other say that thing about needing the sympathy card months down the line. It makes a lot of sense. I for one am still thinking of you and your loss. With sadness for you.

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  2. I think about you every single day, T. I wish I could be there to drink wine and cry with you. Love you to pieces!

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  3. This is so beautifully written Tricia. It heartache never goes completely away.. My Dad has been gone sine 1981 and things still happen that I think of him during the day. And Jeff died in 2002, and I still cry when I hear our favorite song on the radio, or see anything to do with Elvis, who we both loved. We had met on an Elvis web site in 1997, so we collected and share that passion thru our 5 year marriage. But please know the memories will always be there, and the pain does lessen. I love you. Anne

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