Today is 17 years since my mother passed away. In some ways every year gets a little easier, the pain is not acute. This morning I cut some flowers from the garden, moved her picture to the mantel, and put the flowers in front of her picture. Marigolds. I went to work. Everything I did today, I took her with me.
Although it is easier, there is a sadness I carry in me. I sometimes think it will go away- there is not a day that I don't think of her. It sounds trite, but my heart broke when she died. My family changed- everyone moved away. I am grateful that my father is still alive. I am grateful that he found someone to love. He is 84 and in terrific shape. I have to acknowledge that I am sad that he lives in Ecuador- although he has a fulfilling life there, and I wouldn't want him to not have it. I am still sad not to see him frequently.
And I am grateful that my mom and I had time when she was sick to resolve issues, for me to see her has a woman, not just as my mother.
For years, perhaps a dozen, I carried my grief like a badge, like a definition of who I was. A motherless daughter. The grief was how I measured my love for her. My siblings are a lot older than I am. When she died, they had children and spouses. I perceived that they did not feel her death as acutely as I did. I was wrong and unfair. I carried my loneliness along side the grief. The art I make, especially poetry, came from this grief. Although today I miss her, I am no longer consumed nor defined by her illness and death.
She tried to teach me to crochet, but I wasn't patient enough. When I finally learned last May, the hook felt comfortable in my hand, like a body memory. Now, every stitch I make is a remembrance.
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5 comments:
Lovely post. I just knew you were a born crocheter!
I lost my Dad only 2 years ago. I think about him everyday too..the things he taught me, his views on the world and what would he think about certain things that come up in my daily life. Luckily, our parents never really leave us.
thank you Ellen.
I'm sorry to hear about your Dad- it is true that it is the everyday things that remind us.
My mother died 15 years ago--her birthday was Thursday--my son, 2 years ago, and my husband, 1 year ago. I am trying very hard to believe that the dead never really leave us, and I am finding the truth in that every day. I hope that you will also.
Alicia - I read your thoughts on your mom's passing anniversary. Your writing is very thought provoking. And so meaningful. Then I scrolled down and smiled at your roommates :)
I hope they are all pleased with their photos.
love,
Anonymous a/k/a Diane
I am sorry more than you will know.
This reminds me of a time when someone close to me died, and my eldest half-sister called that day, to tell me her baby boy had been born. Her first child. I felt grief and joy.
So difficult...death and birth, grief and joy, coexisting.
This post reminded me of that death and that birth, because I was born on October 23, 1989.
The firstborn of a young mother.
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