Grief
If we haven’t already lost our parents, many of my friends are dealing with end-of-life issues with their parents. I wanted to write through the process of losing my mom, but I have found I needed a little time to get past the loss. Here’s my attempt to describe the grief process I have been through so far.
In the days immediately following my mother’s death, I was aware that everything in my life had been touched by my mom, from the Swedish pancakes I cooked for my daughter to the sewing and knitting she taught me, to the music I make when I sing or play violin. Saying good-bye was harder than I could have imagined, but I knew it would be. I talked about her in the present tense for weeks, not because I was in denial that she was dead, but because she was still alive to me, still so much a part of my life. I was blessed with the initial numbness that comes with a profound loss. My church and recovery friends carried me through it all with their love, acceptance and prayers.
My siblings and I divided her property and the stress of losing Mom had brought out the difficulties that existed among us. Whether you believe in the effectiveness of modern medicine, whether you believe in spending time with someone who is homebound, whether you have the patience and fortitude to change diapers and watch the one you love slip away all have an impact on how you relate to your family members. If you have a good relationship, you can discuss what happens and get past it. If not, that relationship can end as quickly as the death of the parent, adding more pain to the suffering of bereavement.
Since then I have had more happy memories than bad, such as sitting at the kitchen table talking, sitting on her back porch in the summer, or how much delight she took in her grandchildren. Sadly, grief is unpredictable. I worked at the International Quilt Show at the Rosemont Convention Center and one of my jobs was to stand by the exit of the food area. I was to keep people from taking food into the quilt area. When I looked at the vendor across from me, I noticed lots of dangly earrings. I thought, “I’ll have to get some for Mom. Uh, no. I won’t.” When I texted my daughter to tell her about it, she said she had missed her grandma when she made a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich.
It’s the details of life that remind us of someone who was such a big part of our lives. A dear friend lost her husband of many decades and told me at one point, “I sit here wondering what’s taking him so long to come in from the field. Then I remember he isn’t coming.” When I see a good show on TV, I think,”Oh, Mom would love this!” Then I remember, “no she wouldn’t.” We have habits. People we love become the focus of our attention, and when they are gone, we are not done loving them. We are just done touching them. Forever. I hope you will hug the people you love today and tell them what you love about them. Have a laugh together. Spend that money you are worrying about. They won’t be there forever.
If we haven’t already lost our parents, many of my friends are dealing with end-of-life issues with their parents. I wanted to write through the process of losing my mom, but I have found I needed a little time to get past the loss. Here’s my attempt to describe the grief process I have been through so far.
In the days immediately following my mother’s death, I was aware that everything in my life had been touched by my mom, from the Swedish pancakes I cooked for my daughter to the sewing and knitting she taught me, to the music I make when I sing or play violin. Saying good-bye was harder than I could have imagined, but I knew it would be. I talked about her in the present tense for weeks, not because I was in denial that she was dead, but because she was still alive to me, still so much a part of my life. I was blessed with the initial numbness that comes with a profound loss. My church and recovery friends carried me through it all with their love, acceptance and prayers.
My siblings and I divided her property and the stress of losing Mom had brought out the difficulties that existed among us. Whether you believe in the effectiveness of modern medicine, whether you believe in spending time with someone who is homebound, whether you have the patience and fortitude to change diapers and watch the one you love slip away all have an impact on how you relate to your family members. If you have a good relationship, you can discuss what happens and get past it. If not, that relationship can end as quickly as the death of the parent, adding more pain to the suffering of bereavement.
Since then I have had more happy memories than bad, such as sitting at the kitchen table talking, sitting on her back porch in the summer, or how much delight she took in her grandchildren. Sadly, grief is unpredictable. I worked at the International Quilt Show at the Rosemont Convention Center and one of my jobs was to stand by the exit of the food area. I was to keep people from taking food into the quilt area. When I looked at the vendor across from me, I noticed lots of dangly earrings. I thought, “I’ll have to get some for Mom. Uh, no. I won’t.” When I texted my daughter to tell her about it, she said she had missed her grandma when she made a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich.
It’s the details of life that remind us of someone who was such a big part of our lives. A dear friend lost her husband of many decades and told me at one point, “I sit here wondering what’s taking him so long to come in from the field. Then I remember he isn’t coming.” When I see a good show on TV, I think,”Oh, Mom would love this!” Then I remember, “no she wouldn’t.” We have habits. People we love become the focus of our attention, and when they are gone, we are not done loving them. We are just done touching them. Forever. I hope you will hug the people you love today and tell them what you love about them. Have a laugh together. Spend that money you are worrying about. They won’t be there forever.
Week Twenty-six
It's fall and the Woolly Bear larvae are milling about on the sidewalks. I have been grieving again, much to my frustration. I am one who does not like painful feelings, so I do my best to avoid them. The fall was always a celebration time - my mother's birthday and then my brother John's. This year there was no celebration for Mom at all, and just me and John for lunch on his birthday. The last of the kids has moved out again, and the house it too quiet. I have a brother who is not speaking to me. I had difficulties teaching a class at National-Louis University and my anxiety became disturbing. I spent a lot of time in a chair working on the computer, blaming myself for not getting more exercise and for not planning more fun. Then an amazing thing happened. I had rented the Bob Dylan DVD from Netflix and I sat watching it on one of those weekend nights that the men take over the TV with sports. I felt even more regret as I watched him leave everything he knew and go off on an adventure, meeting Woodie Guthrie, Odetta, Tommy Makem and the Clancy Brothers, Joan Baez, Allen Ginsburg and Jack Kerouak. He didn't just watch the Civil Rights Movement on TV, he sang at the demonstrations. So now, I'm getting really mad at myself for not doing more to change the world. What happened to all of us that spoke up for human rights in the 60s and 70s? The second DVD showed how disturbed Dylan got when some audiences began to boo him. Critics didn't really know why it happened and there were several theories, but it really affected Dylan. He kept singing, though, and he kept singing HIS songs. Suddenly it began to dawn on me that my life wasn't over yet. I still had time to improve the class at National, I still have time to write about life, and I still have time to make quilts that are uniquely my designs. Mind you, I will never show the talent and courage that Bob Dylan did, but I can demonstrate for human rights now. As a "Grey Panther" I can write letters to Congress - federal and state - and I can grieve my mother in a productive way. Meanwhile, the Woolly Bears will freeze solid as caterpillars and re-emerge in the spring as a beautiful Isabella Tiger Moth.
It's fall and the Woolly Bear larvae are milling about on the sidewalks. I have been grieving again, much to my frustration. I am one who does not like painful feelings, so I do my best to avoid them. The fall was always a celebration time - my mother's birthday and then my brother John's. This year there was no celebration for Mom at all, and just me and John for lunch on his birthday. The last of the kids has moved out again, and the house it too quiet. I have a brother who is not speaking to me. I had difficulties teaching a class at National-Louis University and my anxiety became disturbing. I spent a lot of time in a chair working on the computer, blaming myself for not getting more exercise and for not planning more fun. Then an amazing thing happened. I had rented the Bob Dylan DVD from Netflix and I sat watching it on one of those weekend nights that the men take over the TV with sports. I felt even more regret as I watched him leave everything he knew and go off on an adventure, meeting Woodie Guthrie, Odetta, Tommy Makem and the Clancy Brothers, Joan Baez, Allen Ginsburg and Jack Kerouak. He didn't just watch the Civil Rights Movement on TV, he sang at the demonstrations. So now, I'm getting really mad at myself for not doing more to change the world. What happened to all of us that spoke up for human rights in the 60s and 70s? The second DVD showed how disturbed Dylan got when some audiences began to boo him. Critics didn't really know why it happened and there were several theories, but it really affected Dylan. He kept singing, though, and he kept singing HIS songs. Suddenly it began to dawn on me that my life wasn't over yet. I still had time to improve the class at National, I still have time to write about life, and I still have time to make quilts that are uniquely my designs. Mind you, I will never show the talent and courage that Bob Dylan did, but I can demonstrate for human rights now. As a "Grey Panther" I can write letters to Congress - federal and state - and I can grieve my mother in a productive way. Meanwhile, the Woolly Bears will freeze solid as caterpillars and re-emerge in the spring as a beautiful Isabella Tiger Moth.
It's December 14th and when I should be shopping, cleaning, wrapping or cooking. Instead I am learning about technology. I don't think I ever find it boring. The people at National-Louis University are wonderful, I never find them boring either. We are presently having a debate about privacy. Some of the participants are refusing to open a Wix account because of privacy issues. I don't know why it doesn't bother me. I just know that my daughter-in-law was the first in the family to fearlessly post on Facebook and her Blog (A Duncan Adoption)
The holidays have always contained a mixture of emotions for me. In September begins the dread, wondering what conflicts will be revealed this year, and remembering the difficulties of living with those who imbibe profusely.
The holidays have always contained a mixture of emotions for me. In September begins the dread, wondering what conflicts will be revealed this year, and remembering the difficulties of living with those who imbibe profusely.
