Double Standard

Thursday May 17: I left the house that morning with my cell phone still on the charger. I remember fishing through my purse after the Dunkin' Donuts stop, realizing that I had done it again. I went to work, did my thing, drove home. I usually call someone on my way home, and I couldn't. It was just me, my car and the radio. And I started to cry. Nothing triggered it, for no reason, I just started to cry. And I could not stop. I drove home, got in the house and kept crying. I hid in the storage room, I didn't want Adam to see. I cried talking to Jenn, I cried talking to Amy, I cried so much I didn't think I'd ever stop. Adam dragged me to dinner when I had finally stopped and then I met the girls for drinks. I drank quickly at dinner, the wine was cold and it tasted good. After two glasses at Madison's I was feeling no pain. It ended abruptly, the grief. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. All because Adam wanted to go out to dinner.

Saturday May 26: We showed Adam's Dad and his new wife all the locations for the wedding. After the day tour was over we took them to meet my Dad and one brother. We drank, ate and had a merry time. It was a wonderful visit, good for the parents all to meet. On the way home, I guess, the wine got the better of me. I cried, sobbed, really, all the way up the parkway. With my father-in-law and Pat in the backseat. I didn't care, I just let it out. They were comforting, though. Adam rubbed my back. It was good.

I've been feeling lately like I'm doing so well. I'm happy, life is great, Adam and I are having wonderful weekends together, I'm satisfied with my job situation, although I don't have one, really. But still, satisfied.

I'm shocked to see that the last time I was here was April 30th! I was reading something the other day about how to have a successful blog. That you need to post often and with much content. I can't decide what I want for this wee place of mine. I don't if I want to commit to writing here on a consistent basis or only when I have a lot to say. I feel like I'm too busy living to be sitting here typing. There is fear also, in committing to this on a more frequent basis. I'm afraid that I will grieve too much, that I will be sad all the time. That by writing here I'll be forcing myself to think and remember and dwell.

It's amazing how in one post, in one thoughtful conversation with myself, I realize how many different directions my writing can go. And how many things could benefit from explanation.

I'm proud that I was able to finally be still long enough to cry without caring. My bearevement counselor said last time we met that she picked up on that trait in me, that I'm afraid to slow down. I finally did, and it was great.

And now, my Sunday evening is starting. I must go and enjoy it.

Whole Again

"If I give my life, if I lay it down, can You turn this life around? Can I be made clean by this offering of my soul, can I be made whole again?"

I had a fabulous weekend at home. On Friday I took Amy to see the yacht club and brought the centerpieces to Nancy's mother's house. She will make them amazing. We brainstormed ideas for the seating arrangements, so exciting how it all comes together! We started at a salon to meet with someone about hair/make-up packages for the big day. We were sitting there, talking, hashing out the logistics, and Amy helped me realize it was a waste of time, energy and money to go somewhere that morning. As soon as I told her I may have someone come to the house we decided to ditch the salon. I thought a lot about mom, and how if she were here she would have helped me reach that conclusion long before I sat waiting in a salon. Sometimes the fog of grief is awfully thick.

Friday night I hung out with Dad, we watched Ray, with commercials, which was no good, but still fun. Dad talked about one song that came out when he was 8 years old. We sat in the living room, the fire had burned out. We kept watching the movie and talking during commercials, and then finally a little after ten I said "we should go to bed!" and we did.

Saturday I dropped off the dress swatches at the florist and talked to the caterer about table linens. I went through Mom's summer clothes and got the hippie top that I always made fun of her for wearing. We were together when she got it at the GAP. I hated it. Now, of course, I can't get enough of it. I tried it on last night, fits perfect. I found some other good stuff too.

I'm dreading the bereavement counselor this afternoon. I need to make a list of things to talk about so I stay organized. I know that she's going to ask me questions and make me cry and I do not want that. But I know that it's good for me.

I've been having bad dreams about my mom. I have them when Adam isn't home, when I sleep by myself. In the dreams mom is dying again, with the details of what happened getting jumbled and different. I wake up and feel physically different, in pain, my body feels so funny.

Now, wait a minute, I was writing about my wonderful weekend at home. Saturday afternoon we went to Aunt Annie's for a family barbeque. My mom's older sister, Tante Peachie was there, for a long weekend visit. It was so great. I feel whole again. I feel like I'm discovering all the new relationships that are happening in this great loss. It's really quite amazing. I didn't miss Hoboken this weekend. I didn't miss the noise and the people and the frustrations of living in my crap-tastic apartment.

Make Me A Witness

My Aunt Peachie told me in e-mail yesterday that my Dad wrote her letter telling her how much he misses my mom. There are depths to this grief that I feel like I will never discover. My father is simply amazing. Of course he writes a letter. He is so romantic. And so smart. And I'm reminded of how much he is suffering and how little I can do for him. When I see him, especially with people, I feel like he is fine. He talked at Easter about some trips he'll be taking with his buddies to car shows and other events this summer. I'm so proud of him. I love him so much.

When she was dying, she called for him a lot. Every time she was moved, touched, disturbed in the smallest way, she called out "Stephan, Stephan!". As soon as he came she was calm. He would cry when we touched her, when we had to bring the commode over so she could pee and he helped me get her onto it. His face, the tears, the pain he was feeling, seeing her like this. He didn't know how to handle her. And she moaned and her breathing was heavy and she was disoriented and she kept saying "I can't, I can't". And he couldn't either.

I am so blessed. I am so honored to have witnessed my parents living their marriage vows. It excites me to begin living mine.

More on this later, as my fiance just got home and needs a quiet, calm ear to listen to him.

261 Members

Okay, so, this isn't the only place I'll talk about it. It being my mother's recent death. I met with a bereavement counselor this week and it was really great. She's also a social worker. She offered to see me again next week. I went to work after seeing her, I hadn't cried off that much make-up, I was impressed with myself. I served lunch and checked voicemail, after an hour and a half I left. I came home, Adam and I talked, I cried some more, it was good.

I've been thinking that I ought to make a grief bag to keep in my purse, with some tissues, make-up remover and some powder and mascara. So I'll be prepared everywhere I go. I posted on a message board about how I was so excited for spring, that I was tired of keeping tissues in my purse. Now my nose will run for different reasons. Oy vey.

I found a Meet Up group of Motherless Daughters in Manhattan. WOW! How cool is that? I may also go to a "drop-in" group next week, after speaking with another bereavement counselor at another hospice agency. I feel like I'm double-dipping. I kinda like it.

I'm getting used to hearing myself say "motherless daughter". It's so empty.

Just Like Normal

I finally called Ruth this week, on my way to work. She wrote her phone numbers on an index card at my parent's kitchen table. I lost it, thenI found it. Then I put it in my purse, and let it stare at me for a while. As soon as I started talking to her, I cried. I am learning that as long as I don't talk to any of the people that she knew I'm okay. This even includes my family. On Feb 27th I had my first life-stopping meltdown. My mom's friend Mary e-mailed about how she and some other nurses are starting a memorial fund in my mom's name at a local agency in Asbury Park. We exchanged e-mails from about 9am until noon, when I finally stopped trying to keep it all in. I just couldn't stop crying. So I left work. I came home and took a nap. I didn't do much crying again that afternoon until Adam came home.

My cousin went with me to the florist, to write up the order and pick everything out. I'm giving certain people tasks to help me. Nancy will be in charge of storing the stuff for centerpeices and helping me create them. Mary will arrange the limos. Every person that I think of for a job seems to make sense.

Saturday morning we were on our way out the door to go shopping. We got gift cards from our families for Christmas. My mom gave us each gift cards. I was walking through the apartment on my way out the door and I wanted to cry. But I didn't. I wiped away the tears and made sure that Adam didn't notice. I do this a lot. Sometimes I get teary but not enough to really cry and then other times I just feel like I don't want to, that it isn't a good time. I have been living my daily life with much success, I think. I have not been back to the gym though. Aside from that, nothing has changed.

Before my mom died, after the new year I made a point to not call her as much. I told myself that I was just preparing for when I couldn't call her at all. I also wanted to giver her space as my wedding planner, allow her to call me when she had news to report. Finally I got hungry for her and started calling a few times a week, from my desk at work. We had all kinds of things to talk about, mostly wedding stuff. One time she said "don't be a stranger!". When I called that last week before she told me it was almost over I knew something wasn't right. I do not regret my retreat. I do not feel that I should have eeked out more time, called more, gone home more, talked longer. The night before she went to bed and didn't get out of it again, we talked. I cried. She told me what her wishes were, told me who to give what jewelry to. It was great. We went to bed. I went to bed first, she would always fuss in the kitchen for a bit. I had my phone open, I was texting Adam, too tired to talk, crying. She peeked around the corner. "G'nite, love".

I looked up and said "G'nite Mom". Just like it was when I lived at home, in my little room. Nothing more, nothing less. No big goodbye, no drawn out I love yous, or anything like that. It brings me great comfort. We spent our last night together like we did all our other nights at home, sitting in the living room, chatting, watching Fox Five News at 10. We said goodnight. Just like normal.

Good night, Mom.

Nightgowns

Last week there was a storm on Wednesday. I didn't have to work. On Tuesday night I stopped on my way home at Stop and Shop. It's in a huge shopping center, it's difficult to get to, there are always lots of cars. I walked around, picked up milk, orange juice, some cookies to make. Snow day food. I called Adam and asked if he wanted anything. He asked me where I was, was I at Shop-Rite. Oh. I still have a $10 gift card there. Why aren't I at Shop-Rite, in Hoboken, where I can zip in and out speedy quick....it made me think of stories I heard after 9/11. A widow went food shopping in her nightgown in the middle of the day. Grief clouds your thinking. Thank God for Adam. I left Stop and Shop, all the stuff in the cart, and went to Shop-Rite.

Last night in bed I felt like I wanted to cry. But not enough to actually let it out. I feel like I got the easy assignment. My daily life is still the same. I come home to Adam, I go to work, I do my thing. My dad said that he feels like he's waiting for my mom to come home. He moved her van further into the driveway so he didn't have to see it so much.

I know that she's gone. I don't know why I'm thinking about how it will feel to grieve on certain days instead of just grieving now. I'm afraid. I don't want a wet face. I don't want black running down my face. I don't want my nose to get full of snot. I don't want to need tissues or hugs from Adam. I want something to make me cry so I can get it over with. But I don't know what that is.

One Week Ago

One week ago today my mother died. She was 50. She had breast cancer that spread to the lining of her abdomen, after 8 years of being cancer-free. I will chronicle my grief on this site to the best of my ability. I began writing e-mails last week after I went home, to communicate to the masses as best I could. It was easier than calling people individually. I could cry and write e-mails and nobody could hear. And it was much easier to get through. I knew that everyone was getting the same information, the same way, at the same time. Eventually I'll post those e-mails here. For now I'll write about my mom, her battle, my sadness. It may be a good way for me to grieve.