The Price of Love is Grief

Late summer is often a whirlwind of activity here on The Slice.  This year is no different in that regard.  However, it is very different in a couple of ways.

The new job is going okay.  I am slowly adjusting to the change in schedule although it is troublesome.  I enjoy the contact with the patients and being a comfort to them within the scope of my practice.  However, I find myself losing interest in school.  I'm no longer certain I will continue my nursing studies in January.  Things have changed around me and within me.  While I do enjoy my work at the hospital, I find I miss my work at the lab more and more every day.  I often wonder if I shouldn't move on to something I've never done before.  A true fresh start.

My Mom died a month ago.  August 19 to be exact.  I was sitting at my computer reading my email and I thought I heard her say my name right next to my ear.  About 30 minutes later, I got the call that she was gone.  She was very, very sick and her passing is a blessing for her and all of us who knew and loved her.  I feel her absence every day.  She was my first best friend and my lifelong confidant and supporter.  She taught me to take care of myself.  She taught me how to survive no matter what.  Those lessons have been well used these last weeks.

A month later I can still hardly believe she's gone.  Sometimes I am able to fool myself into thinking she's still living there in her little house in the mountains...just a phone call away.

Many folks have tried to give me comfort by sharing that she isn't really gone and that one day we'll be together again.  I know they mean well and I appreciate it.  I think it unlikely for a couple of reasons.  First, I'm not convinced that the afterlife they tout even exists.  Second, if I'm wrong and there is an afterlife like they say there is, I most certainly will not be going to the good place.  My Mom was a good Baptist woman.  Her faith was strong and it served her well throughout her life.  Sometimes I wish I had that faith to lean on.

The only thing that can be said to be worse than losing a loved one like my Mom is dealing with the aftermath of her existence.  I spent a week alone in her home packing and sorting and cleaning in an attempt to prepare it for sale.  It was probably the worst week of my life and probably just as well I was on my own.

If you have children and you love them, do everything you can to make this process as easy as possible for them.  My Mom did and I have been frequently surprised by the things she thought of and did for me and my brother before she died.  I can only imagine how much more difficult it would have been had she been as lackadaisical about housework as I am.

I hear that time heals all wounds.  It makes me wonder if I have enough time left to heal the wounds this summer has left on me.

In between the new job and the trip to Colorado and the dealing with banks and Realtors and whatnot, my life has been percolating along.  I have been canning like a woman possessed and basically just trying to keep all my plates spinning.  I've been zapped with the most unholy seasonal allergies this year and yet I still keep going.

The Energizer Bunny has NOTHING on me.

What Lies Beneath

Lovely, isn't it?  I see a whole lot of this on my frequent commutes to and from the city. This photo was taken on an especially pretty looking February day with brilliant blue, sunny skies and clean, dry roads. What you can't see in the photo is the gale force wind that was blowing my car all over the highway.

Life is like that sometimes.  It's often the things you can't see, or those that aren't at least readily evident, that create the largest impact.  Think about the last time you accidentally bit the inside of your mouth.  It's a small thing that nobody else knows about unless you tell them, but you can't think about anything else every time you eat or drink for a couple of days.  At least I can't when it happens to me.  But my pain threshold is pretty low.

I've done a lot of soul searching the last couple of weeks.  I spend quite a bit of time on my own when I stay in the city at The Rookery (a nickname I came up with for the place I stay when I'm there.  It was either that or the catacombs which is far too maudlin...neither is perfect, really).  When I first started staying there, it was great!  I had all this time on my own to do the things that I couldn't find time for at home.  I made baby gifts.  I tried new recipes.  I crocheted Christmas gifts and ornaments.  I read an actual book.  I tried English paper-piecing a small quilt which still isn't done but I work on it a bit here and there.

These little hexagons are all stitched together by hand.  It takes FOREVER.

But in the last couple weeks, The Rookery has become more of a pigeon hole.  It's a nice place. It's clean. There's a balcony.  There's a garage that keeps me from having to go out into bad weather to start on my way to work in the mornings.  It's quite comfortable.  I have my own space and I appreciate it so very much.  However, after a while on my own, I start to go a little nutty.

Yeah, yeah, I know.  How can you tell?  Ha. Ha.

In all that silence and by-my-self-ed-ness, it's easy to lose sight of the things that really matter. The little things that well up inside me can and do take over.  All those little things that I try so hard not show the world and that nobody would ever probably guess start to press their way out.  When it's just me, then me is all I have to look at.

I recently read a quote that said a life unexamined wasn't worth living and I suppose that's true to some extent.  I would like to counter and say that a life over-examined isn't properly lived at all.  Pieces of it are re-lived and replayed over and over.  Mistakes are re-made and magnified.  Molehills become mountains. I am haunted by my own creations. 

I am especially haunted lately.  Things have been happening in my life that I have no control over.  I feel betrayed...used...even though I probably have no right to feel that way.  That doesn't change the fact that I feel what I feel and in the big, empty shell of by-my-self-ed-ness, that feeling is enormous.  It crowds everything else out, good and bad, until all I'm left with is a certain sense of having somehow earned feeling so damned awful and alone.  What goes around, comes around is what we used to call it.

Which is, I'm told, utter nonsense.  Sitting here at home with my husband and my dogs and my real life all around me, I can see the wisdom in those words. The trick is remembering that when I'm holed up in that pigeon hole.

I keep telling myself that everything will be okay in the end.  And, if it's not okay, then it's clearly not the end.