He made it. KC, the man whose name so many of you found for me showed up late this afternoon and I was incredibly relieved. He was polite and asked me how our Christmas had been but he was not nearly as convivial or gregarious as was on his last visit. I suppose this is what happens when you deliver propane gas for a living in an area which is in the midst of a major cold spell. Everyone probably puts off getting gas until they realize it's going to be below freezing for several nights in a row and then they frantically try to get some fuel in the tank before their pet goldfish's bowl freezes solid.
Well. Anyway. I have turned the thermostat up to the more tropical realm of 67° although we always turn it down about four degrees lower than that at night.
Speaking of low, I have been feeling rather flat these last few days. I mean, who hasn't, right? I think it's quite possible that I have not left Lloyd in a week. I know I went to pottery last Wednesday but as far as I can remember and as far as my posts seem to report, I've been right here.
The point is that I've been hiding or hibernating or rolling up into a ball like a doodlebug who has been threatened by a child's probing finger. And I've done nothing of value or interest in that whole time. A little mending and patching, a little jig-saw puzzling, a little laundry, cooking, dusting, sweeping, and putting Seminole Indian dolls on the wall. I promise you that all of these things could have fit into one day, the keyword being "little".
I started wondering this afternoon if it wasn't near the anniversary date of my mother's death and so I looked that up on the blog by searching for "Mother's death," and easily discovered she died on January 16, 2013. I cannot believe it's been thirteen years.
Thirteen years since that day I was with her in the hospital as she took her last breaths. I wrote it all out on the day after her death and that can be found HERE if you're interested. It is not graphic or weird or anything. Just a plain recounting of her last moments. It's funny that what I remember so strongly is that "Sister Morphine" by the Rolling Stones was playing in my head which was appropriate because of course they had given her morphine at the end to ease what they call "air hunger" and I was in the middle of my journey of discovery about Keith Richards and, well, that was the sound track to the death of my mother for me.
Yes. It is true. The body remembers. It remembers anniversaries, it remembers what our minds do not and perhaps have even tried to cast aside, to bury deep in steel boxes strapped with iron bands locked with fierce determination, the keys as lost as we can lose them.
I do not even need to mention the madness of the man who would be king and who is finally being called out by other world leaders as insane and as such, a person who cannot be reasoned or negotiated with but who must be stopped before the entire world falls into the same horror that began in Hitler's Germany.
Still, I feel as if instead of falling into any sort of immovable darkness, I should be doing the things you're supposed to do in the face of times like this. Move your body, get involved, GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS.
Thank god I have pottery tomorrow. That is exactly what I need. I will get up early, I will drink my coffee. I will put in my hearing aids so that I can hear what is being said in the studio around me. I will focus on something that has nothing to do with my mother, my country, my fears, my regrets, my guilt, myself.
Look what I found today.
The trillium. In going back and looking at old posts from this time of year, I saw my photos of it then and wondered if it had come up already this year.
And it has.
The bed it's in is a complete mess, a chaos of weeds and frozen ferns and downed oak branches and browned pinecone lily stems but there it is, alive and well and beautiful and strong and showing proof of the continuation of life.
And then there was this.
Look up, look up, don't stop looking up.
And having said all of these things, I cannot stop watching this.
I'm a mess.
I so relate to how you're feeling. I have no anniversary dates to trigger anything. Maybe it's this subzero weather that surround me? Maybe I'm getting old and feel every fiber of things withering away. I think I've gained weight. I see family and friends getting old. I see entertainers/singers that I adored as a youth who have now passed or are still around and look 200 years old. I think about missed chances and bad decisions. I think about all the wonderful dogs and cats I had who have now gone to the Rainbow Bridge. I think too damn much. OK. Thanks for listening, Mary.
ReplyDeleteI hope you're feeling better soon. Your pics are always a delight and much appreciated. I guess this gist of this post is...you're not alone.
Paranormal John
No. You are not alone. If only all of us could hold hands for just one minute what a beautiful, strengthening thing that would be.
DeleteI have always found it notable that when my spirits are good, when my mind is not working so hard against me, I am so much better at being able to buffer the information coming in, to look upon things with a less horrified attitude, to see things in a different light. So which is real, I ask? These days, it's hard for anyones' spirits to be very good but there are still the things we can find pleasure in, perhaps even joy in.
Don't give up. We're here.
I could easily burrow into my comfy sweats and slippers and not go out of the house until spring, but I know it is not good for me, body or soul. So this morning the low was 4 degrees, and I tried to talk myself into just staying in my fuzzy robe to read but today was yoga day. I had received no emails from the senior center saying there was a cancellation because of the wind chill (some schools in the Detroit area closed because of it- little kids waiting for school busses, etc.). but Brighton Schools didn't care enough. So, I layered up and went out into a very bright sunny 7 degrees. Sure enough the parking lot was salted heavily and there was no snow to hide black ice, and I felt much better for going.
ReplyDeleteOnly about ten seniors were missing out of 40 so we were a stalwart group of oldies. I am glad I went.
I admire and commend you for getting out in that weather and going to yoga. I simply would not do it. I'm not sure I could do it. You ARE a stalwart group.
DeleteI wasn't able to be there when my mother died, I'd visited the week before, but had a job to get back to and we lived in different cities. But my brother was there and held her hand and she was one of the mums who loved her sons more than her daughters, so I was okay with that. I didn't cry.
ReplyDeleteMy daughter's mother-in-law was in a coma at home, an entire room was set up with beeping monitors etc and hung on for quite a while until one day the FIL said to her, we will miss you but it is okay to let go and she did. There were tears for weeks and even now when I think of that wonderful woman.
I didn't cry about my mother for a very long time. Not sure I ever really did. Things had just been too complicated for us. There was no sweet, soft spot for my heart to nestle in that called forth tears. And yet, like you, there are dear ones who have died whom I will never, ever stop crying for.
DeleteI know that sense that your body remembers dates even when your mind doesn't. Midwinter is a hard time for many people and many do die in winter, so it's hard not to take notice.
ReplyDeleteI just looked that up. I had no idea. Yes, January is the most deadly month, followed by February and March. I'l be damned.
DeleteYou are not alone. I am not surprised you and so many of countryfolk feel such despair.
ReplyDeleteHopefully the days will get warmer soon and your spirits will rise along with the temperatures.
It's so horrible all the time, never knowing from one second to the next what may be about to happen. Anything from that man starting a nuclear war to discovering that he not only abused many children but killed some too could quite possibly happen. We no longer have the cold comfort of "Oh, that could never happen," to fall back on. There is nothing that could never happen now and a lot of it already has.
DeleteNot that it's a competition but I'm a complete and utter mess too. My Dad had the bleed that's been coming for months. He had it Saturday. A call to the ambulance and 6 blood soaked towels later, we were in the Emergency dept. The consultant was horrified that my father lives alone. He told us that the tumour is now millimetres away from his carotid artery and if it grows into the wall of the artery, death will follow quickly. i have looked after him for five years as I've told you before. It was so traumatic, Mary. I will replay it daily for the rest of my life. He's going into a nursing home today.
ReplyDeleteHe doesn't want to go. I thought i would feel relief that he'd be in a place of safety but all I feel is fucking, useless Guilt.
I know you'll und how all this is made worse by the private emails we shared.
Thankyou for your friendship. Xx
I have a friend who's father has been hanging on by very stubborn thread for a long time and he calls knowing that something will eventually happen which will kill him, The Event.
DeleteThe Event will happen.
It sounds like at least ONE Event has now happened to your father and no matter how much you think you are prepared for something like that to happen, you cannot be entirely.
I wish you could quit feeling guilt. It is, of course useless and you are not the one who could properly care for him at this point. You did take care of him for five years which is far more than anything I've ever done or, in fact, most people have ever done.
I am so sorry you are having to go through this. I don't think we handle end-of-life situations the way we should be.
One night, as I was still going through the living hell that was my marriage, my dad came to me in a very vivid dream. I remember saying to him that "I can't do this dad" and his parting words to me were "if only you realized how close I am to you right now"! I bolted upright crying and my kids and husband ran into the bedroom. That was when I realized it was July 17th, probably the 10th or so anniversary of his death. I've always believed in life after death but maybe this was just my body's way of reminding me. I also want to re-read "Wintering", which was written by an English lady (can't remember her name right now) who I believe went through ill health and depression and who consciously decided to "winter" for a whole year. I'm guessing she kinda meant hibernate (after a fashion) but it's a book that really spoke to me as I found it so calming.
ReplyDeleteThat book sounds very much worth reading. I may look for it myself.
DeleteI have a very hard time believing that the dead come back to communicate with us but no one really knows. Our minds are so powerful and if we want to find proof that our loved one who has passed on is still near us, those minds will come up with ways to convince us that they are. At the very least, I think you knew what your father would have told you if he had still been alive and you'd told him what you did in that dream and your mind gave you that information in a very powerful way.
I have those same physical memories on the anniversary of my sister’s death and her birthday. It used to be a conscious memory. An awareness of the date. Now it’s subconscious. Our minds are fascinating. And lately, things are just harder. So glad you found pottery. Yeah, important to keep our heads out of our asses. I’m out without headphones right now. Will listen to The Stones when I get home.
ReplyDeleteAs time passes, it seems even stranger that our bodies and subconscious minds keep track of those dates. I've seen Glen go through it annually around the time of his sister's death although he would never believe me when I pointed this out.
DeleteHeads out of asses! Someone should write a book called, "How To Get Your Head Out of Your Ass!" Some of us need written instruction.
I remember when your mother died. It is astonishing that it was 13 years ago.
ReplyDeleteSo glad to see your beautiful trillium again. I remember seeing it in person last year!
Interesting ideas about the body's (or subconscious mind's) remembrance of events
I had forgotten that you did get to see the trillium last year! It makes me happy to remember that.
DeleteHave you never woken up just anxious and/or depressed for no apparent reason, only to remember a little later that it is the anniversary of something that was very powerful?
It's quite possible that many people never make the connection and it is also quite possible that many people do not experience this.
Yes, the body and our unconscious mind do remember anniversary dates even when our conscious mind does not. I hope you have fun at pottery class working on your new flower bowl!
ReplyDeleteWell, as to the flower bowl.
DeleteI do not have great hopes. But hey! I am learning a lot!
Yes our bodies have their own memories, and kick us into awareness of feelings. Right now the coldness has me huddled in survival mode, while hoping for rejuvenation of emotions soon. Loved seeing your Trilliums. They won't be up around here for months!
ReplyDeleteThe cold can numb us in many ways, can't it?
DeleteGood to hear you got your propane. As you say, there is lots of demand due to the sudden cold FL weather. I feel for the delivery guy, it seems he's under some stress with many deliveries.
ReplyDeleteSeeing your Trilliums despite the frosty ground is remarkable. It is a very happy sight.
I am so amazed, each year, to see those trilliums come back again. It is a tiny miracle of my life.
DeleteYou know, dates, years just don't sit in my brain. I can't tell you how long it's been since my mother died or how old she was or even what time of year unless I go back and look it up. I remember that we three kids got to the family home, she was conscious but unable to move or speak really. We left for dinner with plans to go back in the morning but she died around dawn. She had been waiting for us all to get there and then let go.
ReplyDeleteWe set our thermostat at 68 during the day and 62 at night. And now the forecast keeps getting colder and colder, down to 20 one night.
I really do think a lot of people chose when they can let go and die. I am so curious as to how that works. Will I even ever know if it happens to me?
DeleteOh no. 20? That is not acceptable.
January has been such a blah month and I'm ready to be done with it. I'm planning on going to my Zumba class tomorrow as I need laughter, and dancing, and smiles and I always get that with my Zumba friends. I'll bring a handful of cough drops and hope to enjoy getting out again.
ReplyDeleteHave fun at pottery and have lunch with your girls! That's always a happy time.
Zumba will cure what ails you, Ellen!
DeleteOur Wednesdays really are a happy time.
I think January is far too long. Nobody likes January and it should be shorter, a day or two at most:)
ReplyDeleteI didn't realize that your mother died in 2013 as well. Mum died in February 2013. She was also a DNR which made the doctors very uncomfortable. It was partially their fault that her stroke was so bad, she was on too many blood thinners. But Mum also wanted never be dependent on others to take care of her and her stroke granted her that wish. Twice I made the doctors leave her room as they gathered around like ghouls, talking about what they would do to her body as she lay dying. I wanted to yell at them, "Just accept it!" but I didn't.
It's cold and windy here today but I feel better mentally and physically. Less fatigue and the lump on my clavicle is nothing. I think that's been bothering me, convinced it was cancer of course:)
I hope you have a wonderful time at pottery. That's where I'm going this morning, to work with my hands and hang with the ladies.
Sending hugs sweetie.
I remember when Glen's sister was on every bit of life support a human could be on after her aortic aneurysm and the doctors would come in and spout something about, well, we'll just put her on dialysis until this passes and after that we can do another kidney transplant! and shit like that until finally a nurse took us out into the hallway and said, "Look. You don't know. She may be in pain. Keeping her alive might be the cruelest thing you can do."
DeleteThank god for nurses. We had everything unplugged and she was gone within ten minutes.
Of course we think every lump or bump or pimple is cancer! We are nurses!
Pottery is such good therapy.
The dates I remember are people's birthdays - even sometimes people that I don't know!! Hugs to you and be tender to yourself during this time. Lovely that you have new growth to wonder at and pottery to look forward to.
ReplyDeleteRemembering people's birthdays is a gift! I can't even remember my grandchildren's birthdays! Except for Owen's because his is the same as his mother's and since I gave birth to her, I'm pretty sure about that one.
DeleteTrillium! It will be months before that shows up here.
ReplyDeleteI do think many of us are struggling with feeling Down during these turbulent horrible times of America. And, the more Dear Ones we Lose the more Trigger Dates we will have.
ReplyDelete