I think that the third day after an injury, the pain is the worst. I don't know why.
And now I am thinking that the third day after a death is when it begins to settle in. The truth of it, the finality of it, the exhaustion.
I'm just so tired now.
We got that room cleared out. Hank and May and Lily and the boys and Chuck and Russell and Glen and I all came together and sorted and finished what we'd started yesterday. Bags and bags of stuff and Glen and Russ are taking a load to donate right now and tomorrow we'll figure out what to do with the rest of it. I guess.
Kathleen came over and left the most beautiful dish of arroz con pollo I've ever seen and pecan praline bread and salad and my across-the-street neighbors who brought the ham have now left a chocolate cake and I just got a call from another neighbor who is bringing chicken salad.
I am so grateful. These kindnesses make me want to cry.
Maybe that's what I need. To cry. I don't know. It's a confusing, emotional time and I am feeling everything from vast relief to profound sadness. I continue to try and accept each and every feeling as it comes but I tell you what- it's taking a lot out of me.
Which is to be expected. It is the third day, after all. I think I feel empty. I think I feel hollow.
I guess this is why people bring food.
Dear Girl, I think it is the finality of it all..that you no longer have the option of telephoning her, visiting her, or even planning to chat with her.. its all taken away, and there are a million other things you could have asked when it was possible that will never have an answer.. However, you are a good woman, however much you rail against it... your heart is much fuller than some, and I know that you bring joy to many.. plus all us other bloggers.. do not worry about how you feel, you just have to go with the flow.. the empty room says it all.. we are here for a while and then we are gone.. When we have kids we have to know that we don't own them, but care and nuture them as best we can.. parents too are only on loan.. Ithink you have behaved so magnificently with your mum in her old age, given all the ways she treated you.. Grieve for what you had and what you never had, its all part of the process of living.. Thinking of you, my fellow orphan.. hugs from across the pond again, Janzi
ReplyDeleteI did not know her first name was Ruth. That was my grandmother's name. A mean woman, whose cruelties haunt us all directly and indirectly through those done to her children.
ReplyDeleteAt least your mother loved the babies. There is that blessing.
Please eat and rest, my friend. You have already done so much.
I forgot she would have the last name of Moon.
ReplyDeleteThanks for writing, and keeping us updated. Take a hot bath.
I think the hardest thing is packing everything up and that is it...makes you just question everything about your own life and is that all there is. Well..you know what...that really all there is except memories so we have to make them good ones with the ones we love. It has been a a little over a year since my dad's passing..who I loved very very much. One day I went to the cememtary and just realized that this is all we ever truly own..a four by eight piece of land..everything else is just a figment of our imagination. And you know what...the past just does not matter..spend the rest of your time doing exactly what you have been doing...being the best wife..best mother..and best grandmother you can be! Be gentle with yourself...
ReplyDeleteYea, grief is strangely unique to all of us, yet also there are the samenesses of it.
ReplyDeleteYou're doing good work Mary, as you always do. I hope you are as gentle to yourself as you can possibly be right now, and in the foreseeable future.
Giving you the biggest hug from here. OOO
Dear Girl....I have been silent thru your recent trials because I have such cockeyed ideas about the dying process (which I may blog about soon) but I do want you to know ( am sorry for your loss and for the suffering you have been going through.
ReplyDeleteHoweever, I am ecstatic that you have said above that your are feeling relief among all th3e other feelings and that is a GOOD thing. What I wish for you now is to concentrate on that feeling and of the fact that you are now free of that burden and can wildly distribute and fling your amazing favors and energy in directions that return more joy and satisfaction to you. You have done well. Now, please heal and thrive and help all around you to flourish without having that bag of pain to slow you down
Love, Lo
Thinking of you...hugs
ReplyDeleteConsider yourself hugged. I know you're getting lots of them but I'd like to shoulder in there too and plant one on you.
ReplyDeleteThe emotions! I totally get what you're saying. Yes there is relief - she was ready. There is the finality of it too like you said. You are human and that is why are are feeling so much so intensely.
The picture of your mom's door with her name choked me up. It says so much.
Keep taking care of yourself and listening to yourself.
The relief makes total sense - when her confusion and illness and injury started being such a heavy weight, recently, it was clear you weren't sure how long you could carry it and it was tearing at you.
ReplyDeleteSo it makes sense that you feel relieved she has the rest she wanted.
But it's so final. There were things you would have liked to be different between you two, and now that chance, however remote, is no longer possible. And, you've lost your mother, despite how little mothering you might have got from her. And not having to look after her anymore leaves a big empty space, though I know it's one you'll fill with good things.
I miss my mother desperately but I too am relied that she's escaped her sadnesses, her illness, her loneliness, how tormented she was by her life.
When someone dies, it's hard work, but it's also time to cosset yourself and draw your loved ones close. Indulge, be comfortable, and be good to yourself.
Take care, Mary. Take care of your feelings, your grief, yourself.
Love you xx
Ms. Moon, Wow first I stop in to see your site after about two years and I see that you plugged for Nancy. Nancy, who's daughter just died. I started following Nancy. She is an amazing writer and person. Then I visit your site again and see that your mom has passed! So strange. I hope it isn't catching as my own mom who is 87 has pneumonia. But if it and when she does pass at least I know I am not alone. And so I thank you for telling your story, especially at times like these. Not all of us are so eager to write our lives and place the words for everyone to see. And you do it so well. I am very thankful that you share. Best, Sandra
ReplyDeleteSending so much love. Sit and stare for a bit. Its just so much to process.
ReplyDeleteThe picture of the empty room says so much. I am sure you ARE exhausted during this ordeal and the cleaning of your mom's room. The emotions do come and then come again at the oddest of times. Do take care of yourself. S. Jo
ReplyDeleteMs. Moon, I was thinking about you and just finding out now that your mother died. I have been at work but thought I would check on your blog as I was thinking this may happen.
ReplyDeleteWhat can anyone say when someone dies? My condolences? I am sorry? My sympathy? It all comes across as empty and not enough.
I am thinking about you during this sad time and time of relief. Sending love to you. xo
blessings, blessings, peace, peace, blessings, peace, sleep, rest, blessings...
ReplyDeleteWishing you peace and a good night's sleep...and hopefully a better tomorrow.
ReplyDeleteI packed up my father's things after he died. It was hard. My mother had gone into a major depression and had to be hospitalized. I was tired too, but ran on some kind of energy that kept me going. I grieved a lot. Let the feelings flow and take time to just be alone if you want. All those stages of grief are okay.
ReplyDeleteMy pictures look all the same as yours but there is two, crying and confused people involved.
ReplyDeleteBilly- And that is somehow so much worse. I know.
ReplyDeleteOh, the way you ended that, with her name on the door then the last pic just got me good.
ReplyDeleteSweet you.
The crying and grief comes at unexpected times and can knock you on your ass. In my experience I let it take me away to wherever it may and allow it to have my way with me. And then the next time it's a little easier.
ReplyDeletexoxoxo always and forever
That aching empty feeling is the worst of it I think. You will slowly fill back up with life, and a new normal. Those pictures say so much.
ReplyDeleteIt is so good to know you are surrounded by so much love right now. Take all the hugs you can get and be extra kind to yourself.
xo
Like many traumas, we get lost in the activity that immediately follows -- and only afterwards, when things slow down, do we start to feel it all. That makes sense. I always wondered why all the focus after a family death is on food -- neighbors and friends always bring food. Your post explains it!
ReplyDeleteI am thinking of you often. I was thinking of you last night as I lay in bed with my Ever, in the dark with the lamplights shining in the slats of our wooden blinds. I was wondering what you were doing. If you were sleeping and if you were crying or if you were hugging or if you were just sitting and looking, like i was. I love you ms. moon. xo
ReplyDelete*are
ReplyDeleteMary Mary I love you.
ReplyDeleteJanzi- I would be far less than honest if I did not say it wasn't a huge relief not to ever feel like, "Oh god. I should call Mother." It is. That's all there is to it. I love your hugs from across the pond.
ReplyDeleteNOLA- Yep. Ruth. After her mother. Believe me- I am eating. Weirdly. But I sure am.
SJ- Yes, if it weren't all weird enough. She was my mother and when she married my father-in-law she made my husband my step-brother. Haha!
Ain't For City Gals- Yeah. You're right. Everything makes me reconsider my life and what I keep and what I hold on to and all of it. ALL OF IT. That's the truly weird part.
Ms. Fleur- I promise you. I am giving myself one break after another. Glen said, "How long are you going to play the my-mother-just-died-card?" And frankly, my answer would be, "As long as I can get away with it."
Lo- I'm with you, babe. I feel vast relief in many, many ways and I am not ashamed to admit that. I'd have to be some sort of major lying hypocrite not to.
Thanks, sweetie. So much. For everything.
turquoise moon- Thank-you. Yes.
Jill- It's sort of hard to hear myself. I have to admit. So many internal clamoring voices, all vying for attention. I'm trying.
Jo- One of the major blessings of death is the pulling together of family. I believe that. I am grateful for it. And also for the opportunity to ponder that which is truly important before our own deaths come. Lots to think about there.
Sandra- I hope that your mother recovers nicely if her life and will to live are still strong and good. That is my wish for you and for her. Thank-you.
Angella- Amen, sister friend. I need some damn time. It will come.
S. Jo- It's true. You just can't predict when or where. Odd.
Birdie- I have thought a lot about you in the last few days and how it was for you when your mother died. Very different situation and I grieve for the fact that I know you are still grieving.
Sarah- Such sweetness and thank-you.
Mama D- Well, it sure is a beautiful day. There is that. And I just watched the president getting sworn in again and I cried.
Syd- That's the hard one, isn't it? Packing it up. What to do with it. So much stuff. I am trying to take time. I am. Thank you.
Billy- Again. I just love you. You are the world's BEST grandson. Ever. Forever.
Bethany- It's probably already gone, that sign. A new old person will be moving in there soon after they clean and paint and make it all fresh. It wasn't that long ago we were waiting to move Mother in.
Michelle- I am trying to do the same. Forever and always to you, too.
Mel- I keep hugging people. Just randomly. I told Russell this very morning that one of the best things about him being here is that I can hug him ANY TIME I WANT! He gets no choice in the matter. Plus, he's a great hugger.
Steve- It is such a sweet kindness for people to bring food. It blows me away.
Maggie- I was probably fast asleep. Thank you. It is something, thinking of you thinking about me in the night with your baby. Thank-you, sweetie.
Billy- I know what you meant.
Madame King- Rebecca Rebecca. I love you too.
I certainly did not do it all, but I was the one who did the final couple of days of cleanup at my mom's house. That empty room, made generic by the stripping away of all your mom's possessions, really to me back to the finality of that empty feeling.
ReplyDeleteGlad that your mom was in a place that you could feel good about for her last months and that your family is around you. x0 N2
Another hug and some more love being sent to you. I ate an extra meringue, cherries and fresh cream last night . . . For you x
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