This is most likely the last picture taken of my mother and me. While my fretting is not about my mother's death, it is, of course, intertwined into the fabric of my soul.
My last post was done in haste.
The above sentence was written using a different font for every word. It is representative of how my brain is working these days. Problem is there are not enough fonts from which to choose on blogspot. I want more!!!! My brain is more complicated than seven fonts.
I felt compelled ( love that word, Kim, of Mystic ) to post when I last posted but had no time to analyze what I would post.
My struggles are quite complicated. I am going to try to think about them and even write a little about what my struggles are.
Sandy,of Her Vintage Stage your words that I used in my title today are profound and exhilarating.
Kim, of Sweet Sage Vintage, your message of my heart being open is a true one.
Chia, of House of Stirfry, your immediate encouragement and reminding me to stay true to myself--well, no words can express their impact.
Right now I think I am trying to figure out how to stay true to myself and who I am AND FRANKLY who it is I actually want to be.
A couple of my longest, dearest friends, Bonnie and Suzanne, both warned me about some very lengthy bouts of depression in the year following the death of their mothers. I was told I would see----
Another long, dear friend, Janice, is terrified of the death of her parents.
Janice says her first real love affair was with her mother.
Bonnie said she felt like she had lost her best friend when her mother died.
Suzanne mourns the loss of a period of time in her life that is gone forever.
All three, along with another friend my age, Mary, suffer degrees of sadness over this time in our lives that puts us face to face with mortality.
I am still waiting to see-----
Hospice grievance called to see how I am doing. Sweet, so sweet. I was not expecting the call. Sweet, so sweet, but as I told her-----my issues seem to be with people still living instead of my mother's death BUT wait--- is this all true?
Shortly after my mom's death, my dad hung a tacky cartoon picture on the wall in the den. It is hung in a place that is out of place. I asked him how long it had been hanging there. I could not imagine my mom letting him hang that thing on the wall! I was right. Smile. He smiled and said he had just hung it. Said he had hung another picture up in the bathroom that he always loved. He told me they were items mother would never let him hang. ------- Randy and I actually see this as a good sign in that it means he has not just given up and doesn't care.
BUT, yesterday, before driving up to Pinetop, Randy and I returned my dad's car we had borrowed while in the valley. We took him out to breakfast for one last meal together before leaving. I went to the bathroom in the hall. As I came out of the bathroom my eyes went across the hall to the guest room. It is the room my brother and sister-in-law stay in when they visit from overseas. They had been here for a month following my mom's death. I saw a dark frame filled with what looked to be like different arrows-----I went into the room. Upon looking around I saw my mother's wall decorations had been removed. In place of my mother's things, my brother and sister-in-law had hung African masks and had put out all kinds of African decorations. All of these items are hung and displayed in a country wallpapered bedroom. Stupid looking. Does it really matter? No. Does it bother me? Yes. I am working on figuring out why. There are many issues related to this.
Another acquaintance friend asked me why I had not gone to my mother's side to see her before she died. Her question took me by surprise and I truthfully did not know how to respond at first and still don't I guess, as I obviously view things so differently from others. I think Joyce, the very sweet lady that asked the question, was genuinely shocked ( don't know if that is too strong of a word ) that I did not have Randy drive back up to Pinetop so I could drive to the valley. Instead, I thanked my lucky stars that the universe had arranged it so Randy was in the valley. He was the one that would help my dad with all the funeral arrangements and through the difficult process. I was grateful that I would have time to process what my dad would do and why he would do it concerning burying my mother. You see, had I been the one in the valley I think my father and I would have had words over my mother's wishes. I don't think I would have had the time to have the clarity to see my dad was the one remaining and he needed to do what was best for him. Plus, I have never, ever been good with illness, hospitals, etc. Most of the time, for me, if I am in the hospital it is a burden, rather than a pleasure, to have other people present. I want people living---not sitting around in my hospital room intruding on my quiet time. Rest assured, if I should want company I am not shy in requesting it. No visiting me because it is the right thing to do. If morning, the right thing to do is skip around the block to the Starbuck's store, for a latte and toast me getting better. At noon, toast with a diet coke and at night a glass of wine or something a little stronger, if you are so inclined. Got a little off the subject here. Rambling---one of the things I do best. Maybe through rambling though I will help clarify some things for myself. Back to my mom. Every time I was with my mother for the last few years ( maybe further back than that, truth be told ) I knew when I left her it could be the last. I have just never, ever, understood people wanting to be there all of a sudden when someone is dying. Dying to me is a very personal thing. It is intrusive to me to intervene. I know, I am strange. I have also never understood why people travel great distances to attend funerals when they did not travel to be with the person when they were living. I don't get it. Then again though, funerals are not my thing. I like the celebrations---celebrations of life. I want to celebrate every day I am alive. I don't want a funeral----unless it is chosen because another needs one in order to deal with my death.
I have not mentioned my daughter and there is more drama to tell but
I think it is time for this post to be published. There is much to be done around here today. Clothes to be put away, craft items to be put away, plants to be watered.
This post has been a start towards my heart being an open book.
There will be more chapters later.
There will be more chapters.
There will be more.
There will be.
There.......... to be continued.