Last weekend we had a bonfire in memory of my mother. It's been a little more than a year now since she died. It was a gathering of friends and family, poems, songs, stories, fire, marshmallows, supressed tears and gentle hugs.
I had visions that I would write every day about my mother during December and January. That I would have lovely stories to tell. All year long I've had little moments where I remember my mother. I wish I'd recorded these moments.
I'm glad I've had time recently to be with my father and sister. I feel slightly more human. I don't really feel anything about my mother's death any more- except for a bit of confusion over this lack of feeling. I must be in denial. I used to call my mother weekly- sometimes more often, just to share every little story about school with her. Successes, failures, frustrations. I consulted with her on how to clean up the marker when the toddler in my care drew on the unfinished wooden table. You get the picture. I referred to her as Stephanie to indicate that as I grew into adulthood our relationship changed and grew into something more than mother daughter. She hated it- but I think she understood my intentions and so, for a long time she put up with me calling her Stephanie.
But now- it's like I feel more pain at not feeling pained about her death than I do about this loss. It's not that I don't care. I do. It sucks. But I say this and write this with little emotion. I feel somewhat inhuman, uncaring, forgetful.
That is why I appreciate being around people who remember, who care on a daily basis. They share their memories, and emotions and I remember that I am human, that I miss her too.
I'm a little concerned that I am going to fall apart someday, or that I am not entirely human. Ever since I was young I've felt different in terms of how I approach and view death - detached and pragmatic. I figured once someone really close to me died I would feel/be different (more normal in my response to death).
It is different.
I can hear my mother telling me to count this as a blessing, and hear the hurt in her voice as she says it. The kind of voice that says she knows logically that the hurtfulness is unintended- but stings anyway. Like when I told her I was a little jealous of the knitting she did for my other siblings cause she always experimented with me- tried something new for the first time- and then made an improved version for them.
So- outside of feeling like I don't feel appropriately- I'm good. It's weird. I know I shouldn't really worry about having 'normal' greiving. I should allow myself to let the memories and tears come when they do. I worry that my lack of distress/grief must mean I didn't love her. Like I'm not honoring her. I did, and I do.
When you have finished analyzing yourself you will find that you are more like your mother than you wish to know. By finished, I mean stop. Your emotions will come out over years to come. Mommy would be found on days years after her 'Mummies' death just sitting on the couch crying. When asked why,she'd say, oh I don't know. I guess I'd just like to pick up the phone and call my mother and talk about anything. My mother is still alive and she was thirty years older than Mommy. I don't wish her ill, but the picture isn't quite right for me. And I guess it never will be. It isn't emotional for me in this way. It is pragmatic and sincere, and maybe even scientific that it is backwards and out of sync. And so each day it goes on and on and on being weird.
Eternally weird.......just breathe, just breathe......
Oh, Rae! Sorry it took me so long to get back to you.
Several things occur to me. The first is what Maman used to say: you're comparing your insides to our outsides. Of course we were remembering Maman at the bonfire - it was her bonfire! Otherwise, this entry is nearly plagarism if my own head! (sorry to dash the 'you're different' idea - I know I like feeling different). I could even site a previous blog entry of mine.
In some ways I feel very pragmatic about Maman's death. And then there are the phone call moments - which are NOTHING compared to the grandchild moments. Those just SUCK. I can't think about that too much.
I think the bonfire changed something in me. I suspect this I will work on accepting that she really is gone.
Liam's fussing. I best go. I hope you can visit again soon!
I hope so too! It was lovely. Your community/neighborhood is pretty cool.
Speaking of fires and my neighborhood, an entire block of businesses is up in flames! They've cut the power - hopefully it'll be back on in about an hour. It's already been off for over an hour, which is how long they've been battling the flames. Over 20 fire trucks are there. I'm not out there. A friend of ours is blocked in at the (also powerless) Panera across the street from the fire.
It's weird but I don't feel real sad and "miss" your mom. I guess I feel like she's really with me all the time anyway and she certainly knows everything that's going on better than we do. I felt that she saw Alana get married.
At the same time I am sad that I can't go to a museum with her ever again or tell her about a great book I'm reading. We had so many more road trips to take that will never be taken. I have lots of other friends to do things with. Many folks I love dearly, but none of them can ever be Stephanie.
If I live to be one hundred I will never have a friend like her again. Ever. The circumstances that put us together 8 hours a day, several times a week for years when we had babies at home together, enabled us to develop a closeness that I will never have with any other woman. There is simply not the physical time available to create such a relationship. And I can never compare anyone else to her. No one measures up and that's not fair. Everyone is different. I love the beautiful qualities in all my other friends.
I miss when she's not there to help me remember something in our history.
I miss how much she loved my children. After their father and me, no one else ever celebrated them like she did. Of course she is now another Guardian angel in their stash and I know she is opening doors for Alana.
Someone asked me today if Mentor is recovering from the loss of Stephanie. What an odd question. I said well, yes and no. We are fine but there is no recovery possible. She is gone. That is that. End of discussion. One just has to go on and make the best of it. I think that is what you are doing Rae, and that is okay. Don't over analyze yourself. (Takes one to know one - I do it to myself all the time!)
At the one year period I feel like, okay, Stephanie has been gone long enough. Been there, done that. I've had enough. I was good. She can come back now. I don't think time will ever make it "better". But in the end we'll all be together again.
Let me put in a good word for Ann. She is my solace. She is the one person whom I can say the unsayable to. And I do and she loves me unconditionally.
XO