Has it already been a week since my mother died? I feel like I’ve been in a haze, dropped in the middle of the ocean and swimming only because I have to, not because I actually know where I’m going. I’ve found a new appreciation for Dory, a different nuance in Finding Nemo.
I don’t know why life insists on dumping everything on us all at once instead of pacing things one month at a time, but it seems to be a rather consistent theme. What I’d like to be doing right now is sitting in bed with the sheet over my head, but there’s just too much to do.
When a death ends, the work just begins. Closets to go through and memorials to plan and family dynamics to breathe through. In this case, all these tasks are intermingled with the other responsibilities of being a mother as well as a daughter. I pick my mother’s casket, and on the way home pick out a birthday cake for my son. That sort of thing.
My daughter graduated fifth grade this week. I was not really aware fifth grade graduation was a big deal. I thought we might hear a song, clap politely, and get on with it. I was sorely mistaken. What we were in for was a two hour event with five speeches, two processions, music, slideshows, choreography. It was longer than my high school and college graduation combined.
The line for the auditorium starts an hour and a half early. I walk into the auditorium with the grandparents behind me, mentally counting off the number of seats I needed: 2, 2, 2….oh. 2, 2, and 1. It’s the little moments like this that catch you unaware. Mom would never have missed a graduation.
When the ceremony finally ended and the kids file into the lobby, I pull out the flower bouquet my father picked up for us on his way over. I hand it to my daughter, who stands surrounded by children wearing leis made of dollar bills. Mom would have brought a lei. She always did stuff like that. My daughter smiles politely, seeming vaguely disappointed, but she always seems vaguely disappointed. I am told this is part of being a tween. I am too tired to care.
I was supposed to volunteer at the promotion picnic today, but I leave early because I have to get Brody to the groomer in advance of the family arriving this weekend for the memorial. That, and order programs, write a eulogy, bring an end of the year gift to the teacher, bring a blanket to the funeral home, clean the house, find something to wear, pick up the kids from school, celebrate something, I guess. People offer to help, but these are all tasks I need to do myself.
I am exhausted, in a bone wearying way I didn’t know could exist.
Brody comes back from the groomer, and sits next to me on the couch. He is never disappointed with his lot in life. He just is. I put my head on his back and inhale, feeling the rising waves of grief intruding on my to-do list. He smells like one of those old Strawberry Shortcake dolls. When I cry, he doesn’t say anything or search for unhelpful platitudes or edge away uncertainly. He is surprisingly absorbent.
He is here, breathing with me. It is enough. For now, he is enough.
You have my heart.
Thank you 🙂
Because I can’t be there to personally give you a hug, I am sending it virtually. ((())) My Mom left us 14 years ago this August. It is hard. Very hard. Just continue to take it one day at a time, or one minute at a time, whichever is easiest for you.
Thank you Steph. Sometimes it’s hours, sometimes minutes. Still working up to days. I’m sorry you know this loss as well.
One minute at a time. Sometimes even just one second at a time. You’ll be in a fog for awhile, I hate to say it. Most days I can’t remember the day before. Many mornings, I’ve realized that I’ve forgotten my work computer or my lunch and then I get to work and there’s my lunch next to me. Some days I’m lucky I have matching shoes. It’s one minute, one breath through the brick walls and the silent ninja visits of grief. I’ve always thought it’s odd that the world doesn’t stop just because mine does. The kid still needs to be fed, the dog still need to be let out while scanning and framing photos, while penning memories, while standing in a closet trying to figure out just what the hell you wear. And thinking to yourself that this makes no damn sense and is utterly unfair. People will say take care of yourself. It’s hard. Because there’s so much to do and only you can do it. And sometimes it’s just better if you do it vs. trying to explain it someone. But listen to your body. I didn’t and I’m still recovering. You’re in my heart, dear friend.
Thank you K. And you as well, you as well. I am very sad that of all the journeys we have shared, we now have shared this as well. I have been thinking of you regularly and hoping you are holding up.
I am in awe of you; your ability to share and to cope. I, too, have lived through a similar story with two parents. Yes, things have to get done. But, please take time for yourself. And if that translates to more Brody time, all the better. Many hugs and prayers to you. Congratulations to your daughter on her fifth grade graduation! – MaryAnne Brown
Thank you MaryAnne! I am so sorry you too know this loss.
The household is sending loads of hugs and headbutts. You have my heart, I don’t know if I could do what you are doing. May you find some peace in the coming days and the joy of all your memories of your Mother. Take it minute by minute or hour by hour or even day by day but try to find your center and breath.
Thank you- all these wishes really do help my heart.
Brody does it best. Watson and I can only send you our love through the miles. And we do..
Love works too! I feel it!
My deepest sympathies on your loss. It doesn’t go away, but does get easier. Hugs from the Haskins pug grumble and myself.
Thank you! Pug hugs (and Megan hugs) gladly accepted. 🙂
Hugs and prayers for you and your family <3
Thanks Val!
<3
weird…. I was thinking before I clicked on your post about that whole “life throws it all at you at once” thing. Things that pull on different emotions. I’m glad Brody is there for you to allow you to just “be.”
Thank you. I am so grateful for him.
Oh yes, the time drags and speeds up at the same time right after a loved one passes. So much to do, so many expectations from other family members upon you. It feels like you have to rush. But you shouldn’t . Closets and posessions can be cleaned later when your head is clearer and you don’t accidentally throw something out that someone (or you) will want later. Grief..dang it.. that grief, you want life to get back to normal but those tears and unanticipated memories pop up and make you a mess…let them. Your mother passed away, it is a trauma in your life. Don’t push the grief aside, let the tears flow. Your family is all going through this. One good thing..the reception after the service. When family members have passed, the best happiest thing was the reception. Everyone sharing fun stories about the family and the departed one. and for just a wee bit of time the emotions lift.
Good dogs can be wonderful at comforting us during tough times. Good dog Brody!
I love that first sentence, it’s so very true.
When life is too much, I put my face in my Eesa’s belly, and just breathe with her.
I am so, so sorry for it all. I would send you this, http://www.mantraband.com/products/just-keep-swimming
but you probably don’t want a random internet person sending you things, but know I thought of you.
Love and peace to you, and your family.
That is absolutely lovely. I might have to get one of those. 🙂 Thank you for sharing!
This hit way too close to home. My heart goes out to you. I understand your pain. Stay strong. <3