Archive for October, 2012

I decided to let my kids sleep in this morning.  Despite the two days off from school, or maybe because of it, my son did not sleep well last night.  I have plans to visit my mom today and I thank God I didn’t get called to sub.  I try to believe that every day has a reason and where I am called to go is where I am meant to be.  The problem with that belief is that the 6 am wake up call hurts so bad! and too often my thoughts of where I’m supposed to be and God’s thoughts, disagree.  I’m figuring we both know I need to be with my mom today.

At 7:08 I went to wake up my son and at the sight of his sleeping form turned back out of the room.  I’ll drive them today.  It’s not that I mind driving them it’s just that no matter what I do or what time I try to leave I always get them to school late.  ALWAYS!  So driving them seems to be a choice between them getting a little more sleep and starting the day just a little late or getting less sleep, riding the bus and arriving on time.  I turn toward the front window of my house and I am awestruck by the brilliantly glowing morning sky, pinkish orange with touches of blue and purple in the clouds that are just beginning to round from the flat grey rain clouds we’ve had for the last four days.  I grab my camera and walk out the front door in my bare feet.  Turkeys are prattling down the hill, the last few leaves that managed to hang on during the hurricane are now falling magically, the cool air is on my face and my toes wriggle in the rain lingering on the pavement.  I walk down my driveway to get the best view and click. 

It’s as I expected.  The picture is nowhere near amazing as the real thing.  I take in one last look and waddle my frozen feet back to the front door.  I look at the picture.  It’s nice, but not what I was trying to capture.  Did you ever notice that?  Nature, no matter how good the pictures might be, always looks best in its moment.  There are just some things that cannot be recreated.  Autumn is always amazing in its colors and displays and every year I say I am going to get my camera and go down by the river and take some pictures but the beauty always passes before I actually get to it.  The best I can do is just pay attention to the beauty when I see it.

There are things in this life that simply cannot be permanently captured, things that are meant to be enjoyed while they are here, while they are ours and then we have to let them go.  Stopping to enjoy that sunrise, putting it to moment and memory was all it needed to fulfill its purpose and now it’s gone.  Isn’t it amazing that during difficult times, ordinary times and maybe even a few special times there are moments of beauty waiting to be noticed; little gifts and works of art that are created just for us, people that are given to us to enjoy while they are here, moments of love and laughter that will stay with us forever if we remember to be in the moment and experience them.  

Wow, where did that come from?  I was planning on writing about NaNo this morning.  If we look at the metaphors I guess I’m doing ok.  National Novel Writing Month begins tomorrow and for me it is the start of a blissfully focused month of writing.  Yes I know I’m crazy.  I believe I have admitted that once or twice.  But what’s kind of cool is my aunt has sort of weaved herself into my next story and even though I will be writing, she’ll be there, and even though I will be sleep deprived and living on coffee for the next month I will still try to remember to notice the little things God puts into this world to remind us…You are not alone, you are stronger than you think you are, and you are loved.  Happy Nano everyone.  I’ll “see” you in December.


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Finding Solace

My daughter couldn’t find her homework this morning.  My son couldn’t find his backpack.  They ate their cereal amid papers, mail and cups of water left from the day before and my son went to school wearing his skeleton costume because he doesn’t like jeans and his preferred pants were all in the wash.  It just goes to show, when Mom is not on the ball…nobody is.  It’s kind of nice to see that despite my domestic limitations I at least do something productive around here.

I’ve been to Taunton so much in the past two weeks it feels like 495 is my front yard and I’m just passing through picking up the mail on my way to my mom’s house.  I’ve helped where I can with the funeral arrangements.  I’m home today for about two hours before I have to go out and pick up my husband’s suit and few items we need for the wake tonight and the funeral tomorrow.  I should be unearthing the kitchen table or at the very least making myself something for breakfast other than coffee, but I just don’t feel like it.

My body slipped into this melancholy as if it was a warm waiting bath.  This is what depression is supposed to be.  It slows you down, makes the outside world blur a little and gives the heart and soul time to grieve and process sorrow.  I haven’t really stopped and cried.  I keep trying to but there is always somewhere I need to be or something I need to do.  Yesterday I carried around this knot of sadness just under my heart and slightly above my belly.  It sat there and grew over the course of the day until I thought it was going to violently pummel its way out of my chest.  I frantically looked for a place I could hide and cry but then my cousin laid her head down on the table and said there was not going to be a eulogy because she just couldn’t do it.

I took the computer from her and we fell into an old rhythm of her telling me what she feels and me taking notes.  I then moved to an empty room in my Aunt’s house and wrote her eulogy.  No one will know it was me.  It sounds so much like my cousin that even my mother congratulated her on how perfect it was when she had watched me type it.  But I wrote.  I created a speech that not only expressed my cousin’s feelings but enveloped mine as well and the knot loosened and I felt grounded again.

Walking across the lawn from my Aunt’s to my Mother’s (they live next door to each other) I think I felt her for the first time since she’s passed.  I felt her smile and I felt her pride and for that brief moment I thought, maybe this is why I write, just so I could do this. I know that’s not necessarily true.  I know that for me writing is more than one  final produced piece.  But I could do something nobody else could do.  In the midst of our sadness writing was the last thing on anyone’s mind, except mine.  For me it was all I wanted to do.  It held me together, made the long, repeated drives easier and connected me to my Aunt’s spirit.    It reminded me of who I am and that she loved me too.  Writing is my magic and it will help me process this loss and move me toward my future and I know my Aunt will be up there watching over me as well as everybody else in our family because that is what she did.  That was who she was and I wouldn’t be surprised if this was her plan all along because now she can watch over all of us at the same time from a seat high in Heaven.



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Tuesday night I was so incensed about something someone wrote on facebook I couldn’t sleep.  Last night I was furious with my husband for watching TV in the bedroom while I tried to sleep when I had given him permission not more than two minutes before.  In my head I was swearing and yelling because he was touching me and I was too hot.  My grandfather paid me a visit (he’s dead by the way) and there is entirely too much ginger in pumpkin pie spice!

If you’re thinking; “Well, she has officially lost it.”  Then I concur with your diagnosis, Doctor.  I have come unhinged.  It literally feels like my bones have lost their ability to stay together and the rest of me is seeping out through the cracks.

It’s not that there aren’t things going on right now that are real, big and particularly bad.  There are.  My youngest son is exhibiting signs of depression, (I can’t help but feel responsible for that) and my aunt is very sick and has been released from the hospital to spend her last days at home.  I am on the verge of loosing someone who has been a pillar of my family and fixed constant in my life.  But I’m not the daughter, I’m not the sister, I’m not the grandchild who will never truly understand how amazing their grandmother is.  I am not the child experiencing this kind of loss for the first time.  I am simply a niece and a mother.  So I stand tall and be the comfort and strength for everyone else because at least in that way I can do some good.

But in truth I’m too afraid to let the real feelings of loss in.  I am terrified that the moment I do the ocean of depression will sweep me up and take me far from shore and I will not have the strength to swim my way back; back to my family, back to my friends, back to myself and it is all my fault.

I can hear it now, “Oh honey it’s not your fault (mom), That’s ridiculous just get it together, everybody goes through stuff like this it’s part of life move on, you’re just going through a rough time you’ll be all right…”  It’s not my fault I’m going through a rough patch, it’s not my fault I suffer from depression.  Life is life and sometimes it gets difficult.  What is my fault is that I know how to manage my depression and I didn’t do it.  And when these bad things hit I couldn’t handle everything because I was compromised.  Not meditating when I knew depression was at my door is my fault.  Not writing when I know it is my therapy; is my fault.  I did not do what I know I need to do to be healthy and strong.  Like a sick person who refuses their meds I was too quick to prove to myself I was cured or too angry at the fact that I wasn’t. 

It’s not a new lesson.  I’ve explore this concept before.  Too many of us don’t do what we need to do to be healthy. Why!!!! What is it about human nature that supports this self sabotage? 

I have today off.  I have already meditated.  I am writing now and later I think I am going to have a good healthy cry and then take a small nap and see if my grandfather is waiting for me in my dreams to tell me whatever it is he is trying to tell me.  Then again, maybe he already has.  You are not alone.  You are stronger than you think you are and you are loved.  Thanks Grampa.  I love you too.

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