Tag Archives: loss

Jan10

New Year, New Intentions

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New Year, New Intentions

Many years ago, I attended a funeral with my then husband, for one of his co-workers.  The gregarious and well respected engineer died relatively young leaving a wife and two small children.  I don’t remember how he died but I do recall how sad the service was and how irritated I was as the priest continued to encourage the congregation to “Let Go and Let God”!

I didn’t think for one minute that this man’s wife and family were ready to swallow that message.  Their grief was palpable and there would be difficult days and nights to get through before they could possibly “let go” and find peace with their loved one’s death.  I cried the entire way home from that funeral feeling that life was so unfair and random and unpredictable.  Vestiges of my own personal losses came up out of nowhere.  Letting go was the last thing I wanted to do.

I found this card in a box with other momentoes that I have saved through the years.  It was given to me after the death of my father more than 20 years ago with a heartfelt message from two dear friends from church, Mark and Margaret.   So timely that the message should find its way into my hands, asking to be reconsidered.

When the student is ready the teacher will appear.  I’m ready to hear this message.    This is my intention for 2015.

I am a saver of old cards, of my parents things, of photographs, of memories.  I have trouble opening my hands and letting things sift through, only keeping what is most important.  I cling to old ideas and patterns and struggle with transition and change.  But some old ways do not serve me anymore.  I am choosing to change the energy in my life and counting on God to help me take the leap to the new and unexpected.

Last night I had a dream about seeing our old next door neighbors from our first home in Whittier. (Previous neighbors!   Kenn and Lynda- you guys aren’t old yet!)  I felt that tinge of sadness and nostalgia that one feels when they revisit the past and remember good times and feel a sense of loss.

I am girding myself for said emotions.

Here’s to a new year.  A year of exciting discovery and potential nostalgia and sadness.

The student is ready.

 

 

 

 

May12

Motherless…

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Motherless…

I was at the supermarket balancing 6 month old Peter on my hip and purchasing groceries for a Mother’s Day Brunch for a small army, my shopping cart overflowing.  At 30 years old it wasn’t unusual for me to put on a feast for 30-40 people.  Doing take-out was never an option.  “Wow, are you having a party?” the checkout clerk asked.  Of course they always asked me that because, like my mother before me, my grocery cart was always piled high with food.  The more you feed your family, of course, the more you love them!

“Yes.. a Mother’s Day Brunch.  I wonder when it will be my turn to have a Mother’s Day?!” I said somewhat sarcastically and somewhat truthfully.  My Mother’s Day would be spent standing in the kitchen over a hot stove!  (Ha.. doesn’t that sound like something your mother would say?)

Be careful what you wish for.

By the following Mother’s Day my mother had succumbed to her battle with cancer and my mother-in-law had decided to go out of town.  I was to have MY day.

Still grieving the loss of my mom, I was not looking forward to celebrating.  My brother, Ronnie, joined us for brunch at a fancy shmancy hotel that had unlimited delectables and flowing champagne.  I should have felt like a queen.

But when Peter pitched the tenth tater tot from his high chair as my other two sons egged him on and howled uncontrollably, I dissolved into tears.  This was not the Mother’s Day I wanted.  I wanted my mother back.

Gathering children, diaper bags, to-go containers, etc, we made a quick escape and headed for home.  I slept for three hours and my brother, motherless as well, stayed and waited for me to wake up.  I  guess I scared everyone including myself with my emotional outburst in the restaurant.

It’s been 27 years since my sweet mother died and this day still brings back all those memories of her.  It was a significant loss at a very vulnerable time in my life.  I feel a bond with every woman who has lost their mother.  What is it that we know in our tortured wisdom?

We know that without our mother, no matter what type of relationship we had with her- wonderful or complicated- maybe both- there is a loss and an empty place.  We long for the bond we had or maybe the bond we never had with her.  We grieve the unconditional love that only a mother can give.  For everyone else we have to be strong or nurturing or unselfish or understanding.  But for our mom we can just be who we are.  And she will love us anyway.  And we feel an acceptance and a tether that allows us to be in the world with an unshakable foundation.

For those of us who are motherless, the bottom has fallen out and we now take on the responsibility to be a mother for others-  whether we are prepared for the significant task at hand or not.

Today I am thinking about one of our students at Presentation High School who just lost her mother tragically a few short weeks ago.  She is 14 years old.  My heart aches for her.  Her wound will never heal.

And remembering my precious mom, Dorothy, on this special day.