10.04.2012

::Fading Roses::

AS you know, my sweet Mom died 14 very long days ago.

She planned her own memorial,  choosing the songs, poems and prayers...even wrote her own beautiful eulogy.  Evidently dying slowly of cancer affords you this luxury, but I'm fairly certain it wasn't a luxury Mom ever coveted.  Still, we were all so grateful to her for the work she put in as a last gift to us.  The service was amazingly difficult, yet amazingly beautiful.  She reached out to us from where she now flies, and it was a profound experience for my brother, sister, dad, and everyone who stuffed themselves into the ballroom at my parent's neighborhood Chateau {{glorified clubhouse}} to say goodbye.



Because I'm so much like my mom, I'm processing her passing by writing my own words.  The day after I watched her take her last breath, I wrote a big ole thing.  I wrote it in thankfulness for the mom I was given, for the too-short time I had with her, and for the hope of a future with her guidance to lead me and her memory as my companion.  Because I believe she wants me to pursue every drop of hope and light I can....and I know this because she pursued it herself.  It's a good piece, written in the heady aftermath of the drama of death and emotion and naive grief not yet tested by the loneliness and monotony of the coming weeks. I'll post it soon, but not tonight.

Tonight I just feel this raging hurting loss.  I have some nasties to let fly so my mom can catch them in the wind and toss them where they won't prick me and taunt me and suffocate me.  Do you mind?





There is a huge something missing in my life now. Enormous and never-ending and painful and awkward and weird and stupid.  I'm kinda pissed about it actually.   I mean, why her?  Why not the fatass at Walmart in the candy aisle with greasy hair?  {{I immediately feel a *Knowing tap* on my shoulder as Mom reminds me "why NOT her?"  Ok Mom.  It's an uneven playing field and the refs are on strike, so I'll go with it.}}
I know she's near me, but it's just not the same.  Not at all.

Anyone who tells you different hasn't lost their own huge something.

And, btw, to those who have sinned by omission due to not having lost your own huge something yet, ouch.
That hurt.  I forgive you.  But I'm still kinda mad at you.  I might be over it by the holidays.  Or not.  There might be opportunities for enough downward dogs in the next few months to get it out of my system.  But don't count on it.  I really do hope to be over it by the time you must lose your huge something so that I won't be a dick in your hour of loss.  Because, really, I want to be a nice person again.




And what's with this weather?  Like the cosmos tapped into my searing heart and was like, "hey show her what her pain looks like on the outside"  and sent a sudden foretaste of the biting cold that's coming, complete with heavy, sagging grey clouds and spitting shards of rain.  Nice.

I know it sounds like I'm angry.  I'm ok with that.

I'm also utterly sad.  I'm trying to be ok with that.

And I'm lonely.  With my hubby and kids always nearby, I'm still profoundly lonely.  I may never be ok with that.

I'm sitting with my emotions when all I really want to do is rage around and terrify everyone around me because it HURTS SO MUCH, then drive as fast as I can to the nearest Dunkin' Donuts for yeasty demons filled with fluffified transfat and rolled in powered sugar dust.  Why yes, I will take a bakers dozen. Eating my emotions would taste so good....




And what I didn't expect was the exhaustion.  Physical exhaustion, I mean.  It's not like I'm training for a marathon....I drive my kids to school, walk my dog, do some yoga.  And yet I'm bone-tired.  Feels like the kind that won't ever go away.

Yes, I know it will.  Don't care.  Needed to write it.  Needed to acknowledge it.

Since I don't have a freaking clue how this is all gonna come out {this post or my life post-watching-cancer-kick-the-shit-out-of-my-mom's-beautiful-body}, I figure the least I can do is get it out here and hope for the best..  Other things I'm trying out before giving in to the afore-mentioned doughnuts:

Pin a dozen new hairstyle ideas on Pinterest.

Make just shy of 4 million batches of soap in my mom's honor (and blow up a batch in the oven).

Remember to breath.

Listen to as much Mumford and Sons as I possibly can.

Pick up 6 tiny, perfect, flaming red leaves that lay in my path as I walk in the rain.

Blow raspberries and slobber kisses on my grandbaby's petal soft cheeks.

Remember to breath.

Feel sorry for myself, then tell all my facebook friends I need a playdate.

Do yoga.

Do more yoga.

Remember to breath.

Watch episodes of mindless TV on Netflix.

Stare at the leaves as they write their own eulogy in brilliant color, just like my Mom did, and know she can see them too....that she's now part of the magic that makes it happen.




Oh yeah, and eat one too many Bob Evans biscuits with honey.

And......remember to breath.

I miss you Mom.  Nothing will ever be the same.  Help me see goodness again.

17 comments:

Polly McCormick said...

I feel your pain Cindy. My Dad died 6 years ago, my Mom this past March. My inside feelings don't match my outsides anymore. I am broken. I will tell you that time does help. You'll have good days and bad days. But it never goes away. Hang in there....be strong.....and don't be afraid to cry, yell, scream, break things.

♥ Sonny ♥ said...

I have no words of comfort or wisdom to offer..
I want you to know you are HEARD and UNDERSTOOD..
as Polly said.. cry scream vent and rage against whatever and whoever.

Hopefully ,folks will be respectful of YOUR feelings .

a Punching bag helps..

FlowerLady said...

What an honest post filled with true feelings.

Everyone grieves differently, and has to go with their own flow.

Love, hugs and prayers ~ FlowerLady

Maureen said...

Very well said. The mental and emotional exhaustion far outweighs the physical exhaustion any day... because it not a good kind of tired. It's so draining.

I lost my mom when I was a teenager and my dad 6 years ago and I cannot tell you how long it will take but at some point there will be little things that bring a smile to your face because they bring back a good memory. One day you will be open to these god winks because at the end of the day you are a mom to someone too.

momstheword said...

I am so sorry for your loss! I remember the day my dad died and walking like a zombie out of the hospital. Numb, just numb.

I remember driving down the road and watching people walking and talking and laughing, and just thinking how strange it was.

My dad had left our world to be with Jesus and life was going on all around me, and these people had no idea how devastated I was inside. It was just weird to see life going on without him.

Grief is a strange thing, and until you go through it on such a grand scale, you really have no idea what it's like.


When we lost our baby we planted a rose in the garden in her honor, and it made me smile every time it bloomed.

We did something different with my dad.

Just pamper yourself right now and give yourself time to grieve. You're not in a hurry. You WILL get through this, my friend.

COTTAG3 said...

I can relate to everything, every feeling in this post. It's been 14 days. That's too soon for you to feel any way other than what you feel. Honestly, the first year is horrible and you have to go through and feel all of the pain, sadness, loss and anger of all those "firsts" with out her (first Christmas, first Mother's Day, first birthdays). After the first year, you begin to heal. You will always have moments of sadness but you will way more moments of happiness. It's been 10 years since I lost my mom and 15 years since I lost my dad. I still think about them everyday but it's usually in the form of awesome fun memories that make me chuckle. I still sometimes get an overwhelming sense of needing to call one of them to talk to them but it passes. For a long time, I felt sorry for my son (and anger and it's not fair) that he didn't get to know my dad and had so little time with my mom. I realized one day that he didn't feel bad about it. He had no idea what he missed. He was okay. It was more about my sadness for what he missed. That has now passed too. My parents' passing was a life changing event. I'm not the same person but I'm in a good place and have a wonderful happy life thanks to those parents I had.

So, give yourself a break and give yourself permission to feel however you want to feel. It's part of the process. You'll be okay but it will take a long time. Your in my thoughts.

The Country Nest said...

Oh Cindy....I am so sorry. Time is the only thing that helps. I think we need to go through the process of grief to heal a bit. It never never goes away. Nothing can replace a Mom. The first year of firsts without your Mom is horrible. Especially Mother's Day. I agree cry, rant, kick and cry again...don't let depression creep in, kick it's ugly butt out! You will survive(although you will doubt that on certian days)
You Mom is always with you, in your heart and in spirit! Hang in there it is a lousy club you have joined...all of us without our Mom's are right here for you! ((hugs))
Donna
P.S. It has been 9 yrs for me and I still cry sometimes.....

Amy W. said...

I am thinking of you.

Suzanne@Meridian Road said...

I'm two weeks behind~more, actually. I'm so sorry, Cindy. I didn't know your mom had passed on, and I'm so sorry you're going through this. It's hard, and the exhaustion is as overwhelming as the anger and sorrow. I know there's nothing I can say to make you feel better, but please know you're in my thoughts and prayers.

LL from KS said...

I, a mere stranger, can feel your pain. I can feel your heart hurting and the rage that is inside you. It's ok! However you feel, it's ok. You do what you need to do and say what you need to say. Grief, the drowning weight of sorrow, is not an easy thing to deal with, and each of us must find our own way through it. You are right in that you will never be the same. You have lost the one who loved you first. She would not want you to be so sad, but she understands and loves you still. None of us have the answers you are looking for, and that sucks. It's just minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day that you must move forward. Talk to your kids about your mom and all the wonderful memories- for that keeps her present in all of your lives. Remember, the love you feel for your mother is the same love your children feel for you. They NEED you! Love them and let them love you in return, and continue the circle that starts with your mom.
I've been thinking about you so much and praying the darkness over you begins to lift so you can see all the sunshine still around you.

the cape on the corner said...

i feel pain and sadness and anger every day since my father passed last august. like you, and b/c it's normal, you ask the why him/her questions. i asked the "why that kind" kind. why pancreatic cancer? why not a more fightable cancer? is it ridiculous to think, woo hoo, give me some prostate, now there's a managable cancer. my anger is also directed at the people who make millions and trillions, but a cancer with a 6% survival rate has to fight for government funding to help continue the fight? for trials? for finding a medicine that flipping works??

and why did all the firsts have to be right then and there? my birthday a month later, then the holidays and his birthday after that. oh yes, the firsts are hard, but when they pass right before them, the firsts are even more terrible. i was not yet 32.

in his belongings, i was given a card that he was saving for "a daughter and her family". i don't have my own family, and at that moment i felt that i gyped him of that.

the only thing, i think, to do, is DO. that november, 3 months later, we had a team of 24 people walk in the pancreatic cancer walk, and we are building our team for this november. i will do it forever, for him, and for awareness and for monies that need to be raised to fight that murderous bastard. good luck to you and wallow when you need to. there is no right or wrong.

Jenn said...

I love your beautiful honesty! Thank you for having the courage to share!

Katherines Corner said...

I am truly, deeply sorry for your loss. I send you gentle hugs and wishes that your sorrow will be replaced with only joyful memories. xo

Marilyn Holeman said...

I lost my mom nearly 11 years ago--my dad way before that (Wow, almost 40 years!) One thing I would add to your list of things to do is read the Psalms, and let God's Word wash through you.

Praying for you.

Amy Affolter Reed said...

Thank you Cindy. Your post helped me realize I'm not the only one who feels pissed! My beautiful mother was taken from us a year ago in December. She had a massive stroke and was gone in FIVE HOURS. Five hours. I am not sure if thats better or worse than 'knowing'. I'm still mad, I still cry, I still say the 'what ifs'... People say it gets easier, some days are better than others. I will be thinking about you, even tho I am a stranger, and hope you don't hurt as much as you do right now. Sending great big hugs to you! Thank you again for your post!

Jeannine said...

I'm sorry for your loss and will be thinking of you. Jeannine

Betsy said...

I will try this again as something happened to blogger and stopped me as I was typing. Maybe got sent somewhere out in cyber?

I got very angry to when my son died and same again when daddy died of cancer. for me it was terrible shock, sadness and then this awful anger. I lashed out and talked about it to anyone who would listen - until there was nothing left to say. After that it was a calming and now wonderful memories of special times, fun times. Time does heal, memories of the great times together is something no one can take away.
I send you my sincerest sympathy on your loss of your Mother.
God Bless
Betsy

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