A couple of weeks ago, Geoff and I were on a date night and discovered an amazing bluegrass band named the Infamous Stringdusters. They opened with a U2 cover of " In God's Country" off of U2's Joshua Tree album... I was instantly hooked. Not sure if it was the cover or the band, but I have this song on repeat on my itunes now. I started to think of my grandaddy as he loved the fiddle, and the fiddle player for this band was up to grandaddy's standards( or what I think they were). The BOOM of the bass kept me alert, and for the rest of the show, I couldn't stop thinking about " Stew-baby" and his love for the string opera. Grandaddy used to tell me tales of the days that he went to the fiddle judging competitions at Opryland, and I can only think that he felt the same thing, watching all the stringed instruments on stage converging into beauty and feeling a spiritual and strong connection the music, just as I have. I have often thought to myself, " the love of this music has to be inherited." Not a bad thing to inherit, in my opinion. I can recall him saying on several occasions that " nobody beats that gal, Alison Krauss. Nobody." Turns out these guys( Infamous Stringdusters) are on Alison Krauss's label, so I guess I'm not too far off of his standards.
So thank you, grandaddy. I love you and will always attribute my love for bluegrass music to you.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Initiation ( of sorts)
Last night, Geoff and I had our first foray into the toddler/own child stomach virus arena. Poor Arlo woke me up at 11:15 ( yes, I was in bed, and had been since 9) crying. Just as I went into his room to check on him, I heard that vaguely familiar sound you hear when someone vomits. I didn't hesitate to rip him up out of the crib and sit him up on the changing table( thanks years of CPR training) and check for signs of difficulty breathing and breathing obstructions. He was fine, but he was so scared and confused, which begs the question: What in the world is going on in the mind of a child the first time they throw up? Is it " What in the hell is my body doing" or maybe more of a Talking Heads vision of " Well, how did I get here?"
Regardless of what he was thinking, he was frightened beyond belief. Geoff hadn't come home from work yet, and I was basically just encouraging him to " get it all out", which now I think is hilarious because he has no idea what that means. I think that was my 21 year old sorority sister dialogue coming forth. At any rate, Geoff came home quickly thereafter and said " I knew something was wrong when his light was on and I heard howling from the house." We changed his clothes about 4 times, and finally ended up in the living room watching Thomas and Dora at like 230 in the morning, with Geoff and I discussing Sir Topam Hatt's genuine intentions for the engines( we think he's a bit of a harsh employer and might be an IRS case to be explored) and how Dora is still sounds like she's screaming when she talks. About anything. I would hate to invite her to a dinner party, she'd be like Kevin Nealon's character in SNL called Mr. No Depth Perception, but hers would be related to voice volume as if her guests were 600 miles away: " PASS ME THE SALT! I NEED MORE GRAVY! HOW WAS YOUR DAY? I CLIMBED UP CANDY MOUNTAIN, WENT THROUGH THE BALLOON FOREST AND ENDED UP SOMEWHERE IN MEXICO!"
Somewhere between Dora and an episode of Blue's Clues Arlo finally nodded off, sitting up. He had insisted on keeping his mouth somewhat open throughout the ordeal primarily because I'm sure his mouth tasted horrible, and also because he was probably scared of what might happen again. Once he popped his pacifier in I knew he was feeling better, and I nodded off as well to the sounds of Steve and Blue attempting to solve the latest issue concerning where they had left Blue's Science Diet food and organic turkey treats. It was an intense night/morning, but we have now been initiated, and I feel more like a mom now. I now inherently understand what my mom was feeling when she would tell me " I wish I could take away all your hurt" when I was sick. Much thanks to my mother and father-in-law for answering their phone at midnight and assuring me that Arlo was going to be okay, and to my parents, who I know were watching over us and most likely cackling at how freaked out I was over puke.
Regardless of what he was thinking, he was frightened beyond belief. Geoff hadn't come home from work yet, and I was basically just encouraging him to " get it all out", which now I think is hilarious because he has no idea what that means. I think that was my 21 year old sorority sister dialogue coming forth. At any rate, Geoff came home quickly thereafter and said " I knew something was wrong when his light was on and I heard howling from the house." We changed his clothes about 4 times, and finally ended up in the living room watching Thomas and Dora at like 230 in the morning, with Geoff and I discussing Sir Topam Hatt's genuine intentions for the engines( we think he's a bit of a harsh employer and might be an IRS case to be explored) and how Dora is still sounds like she's screaming when she talks. About anything. I would hate to invite her to a dinner party, she'd be like Kevin Nealon's character in SNL called Mr. No Depth Perception, but hers would be related to voice volume as if her guests were 600 miles away: " PASS ME THE SALT! I NEED MORE GRAVY! HOW WAS YOUR DAY? I CLIMBED UP CANDY MOUNTAIN, WENT THROUGH THE BALLOON FOREST AND ENDED UP SOMEWHERE IN MEXICO!"
Somewhere between Dora and an episode of Blue's Clues Arlo finally nodded off, sitting up. He had insisted on keeping his mouth somewhat open throughout the ordeal primarily because I'm sure his mouth tasted horrible, and also because he was probably scared of what might happen again. Once he popped his pacifier in I knew he was feeling better, and I nodded off as well to the sounds of Steve and Blue attempting to solve the latest issue concerning where they had left Blue's Science Diet food and organic turkey treats. It was an intense night/morning, but we have now been initiated, and I feel more like a mom now. I now inherently understand what my mom was feeling when she would tell me " I wish I could take away all your hurt" when I was sick. Much thanks to my mother and father-in-law for answering their phone at midnight and assuring me that Arlo was going to be okay, and to my parents, who I know were watching over us and most likely cackling at how freaked out I was over puke.
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Nod
I was fortunate enough to get down to Bowling Green on Friday morning to be with Daddy before he passed away early Saturday morning. When I got to the medical center, he was alert, lucid, and asked me " how were the roads, baby?" in pure Michael "always weird about the weather" fashion. I was greeted by my best friend, Erin, and her mother, Chris, who had been visiting with Daddy until I arrived.
He was weak, and I could tell in his voice and demeanor he knew what was happening. For about an hour or so, I held his hand, asked him philosophical questions about life, encouraged him to eat the orange sherbert someone had brought him, and watched him attempt to rest. I Then I heard a deep voice say " Laura Beth", and a tall figure entered the room with a smile and graceful sweeping of physicality. One of daddy's oldest and best friends entered the room. My father's eyes immediately lit up and then creased at the ends, a sign of sadness yet immense respect and love.
Over the next few hours, Daddy had many visitors-- neighboors, CEOs, nurses, social workers, friends... and over those next few hours, Daddy grew weaker, and it became evident that he was in pain. It was at this moment that his friend encouraged me to consider hospice. God, everything was happening so fast. Hospice? Now? But looking at him, I knew it was the right move. We consulted with the social worker and various nurses and doctors who agreed. He would be more comfortable.
I have to say a thank you to the Medical Center of Bowling Green for having such wonderful staff to assist with these issues. They assisted with my mother's care when she was sick, and I appreciate all of the doctors, nurses, social work and adminstrative's staff in her care as well as my dad's. The Medical Center of Bowling Green helped me in more ways than I can count or repay.The adminstrative staff at the Medical Center of Bowling Green is also amazing; I can truly, honestly say that they care about their patients and the care that they are given. I felt enveolped and humbled by their love and support.
Once we moved Dad to the Hospice of Southern Kentucky, he became more at ease, as did myself and his friends. He smiled more and was able to tell us what "hurt" and what he needed. Both myself and his lifelong frend Bill Mcdonald, and Erin Desmarais stayed by his side. His friends Nate and Katrina Phelps came by for a visit and rally-- but it seems that eventually he wanted only two of us to be with him when he passed- Bill McDonalnd and myself. Bill asked me to try and sleep, which I did. He eventually woke me with a gentle voice, letting me know that Daddy was almost gone.
Bill and I then floated over to his bedside, but at that time daddy was already gone.
That is when I got ' the nod". I will never forget the nod, Bill, and I will write about it for years to come,
Thank you, Bill, for your love and support.
The world was the way it should have been.
He was weak, and I could tell in his voice and demeanor he knew what was happening. For about an hour or so, I held his hand, asked him philosophical questions about life, encouraged him to eat the orange sherbert someone had brought him, and watched him attempt to rest. I Then I heard a deep voice say " Laura Beth", and a tall figure entered the room with a smile and graceful sweeping of physicality. One of daddy's oldest and best friends entered the room. My father's eyes immediately lit up and then creased at the ends, a sign of sadness yet immense respect and love.
Over the next few hours, Daddy had many visitors-- neighboors, CEOs, nurses, social workers, friends... and over those next few hours, Daddy grew weaker, and it became evident that he was in pain. It was at this moment that his friend encouraged me to consider hospice. God, everything was happening so fast. Hospice? Now? But looking at him, I knew it was the right move. We consulted with the social worker and various nurses and doctors who agreed. He would be more comfortable.
I have to say a thank you to the Medical Center of Bowling Green for having such wonderful staff to assist with these issues. They assisted with my mother's care when she was sick, and I appreciate all of the doctors, nurses, social work and adminstrative's staff in her care as well as my dad's. The Medical Center of Bowling Green helped me in more ways than I can count or repay.The adminstrative staff at the Medical Center of Bowling Green is also amazing; I can truly, honestly say that they care about their patients and the care that they are given. I felt enveolped and humbled by their love and support.
Once we moved Dad to the Hospice of Southern Kentucky, he became more at ease, as did myself and his friends. He smiled more and was able to tell us what "hurt" and what he needed. Both myself and his lifelong frend Bill Mcdonald, and Erin Desmarais stayed by his side. His friends Nate and Katrina Phelps came by for a visit and rally-- but it seems that eventually he wanted only two of us to be with him when he passed- Bill McDonalnd and myself. Bill asked me to try and sleep, which I did. He eventually woke me with a gentle voice, letting me know that Daddy was almost gone.
Bill and I then floated over to his bedside, but at that time daddy was already gone.
That is when I got ' the nod". I will never forget the nod, Bill, and I will write about it for years to come,
Thank you, Bill, for your love and support.
The world was the way it should have been.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Holiday Reflections
Arlo turned 2 last week, and I can hardly believe it. Seems like yesterday I was up every 2.5 hours, praying for sleep, daylight, and sanity. It's funny, most of our friends told us we'd *forget* those difficult times, and while I haven't forgotten, I don't cringe as much when I reflect back on those nights/days. .. as a matter of fact, I have fond memories of exploring the wonders that are On Demand television and the art of adjusting his boppy appropriately so I could finish whatever show I was into at the moment. At 3AM, it was just he and I, and there was a sort of bond we built because of that. As mom would say, " that's neat, Laura."
Arlo is a bright, lively force in my life. Everyday he reveals a new parts of his personality that keep me astonished, humbled and curious. He loves Thomas the Train, singing his ABC's, and music in general. Gramma and Paw-Paw bought him a music kit for his birthday, and watching him rock the snare drum is pretty damn awesome. Truly, my family is blessed. Geoff and I have the unconditional support of his parents and our friends, and there isn't a day that goes by that I am not utterly in awe of the kindness and love that our family and friends give to us.
In some ways, though, observing and experiencing Arlo's milestones without mom is like a nasty scratch in your favorite record. Just as soon as I think normalcy is settling in and I am truly enjoying things , something happens to remind me that things are indeed different now. I miss daily phone call updates from her. I miss the weekly packages of toys and clothes. I started wrapping presents today and was reminded I wouldn't be recieving any of her goofy novelty gifts or even see her handwriting on gift tags. I'm trying very hard not to be negative , but I can't help but wish mom and dad were here and present to be able to enjoy Arlo as much as the rest of us. Trying to channel that frustration into something proactive and meaningful is exhausting at times. If I'm being honest, it takes a quiet yet upsetting toll, regardless of support. No one can truly fill that void of my folks not being present, not even me.
Torn and Frayed by the Stones is one of my " I can listen to this song on repeat for days and never get tired of it" songs. Lately it's been on repeat everyhwere in my life-- in my car, computer, head, etc...that and " The Obvious Child" by Paul Simon. Sometimes I measure out my life in songs, and these two seem to be hitting the mark lately. Freudian? Perhaps. Therapeutic? Of course. But overall, I am thankful for what I have now, presently. I have wonderful memories from mom, a dad who is working to get better and stronger, and an amazing son, husband, family and friends.
Arlo is a bright, lively force in my life. Everyday he reveals a new parts of his personality that keep me astonished, humbled and curious. He loves Thomas the Train, singing his ABC's, and music in general. Gramma and Paw-Paw bought him a music kit for his birthday, and watching him rock the snare drum is pretty damn awesome. Truly, my family is blessed. Geoff and I have the unconditional support of his parents and our friends, and there isn't a day that goes by that I am not utterly in awe of the kindness and love that our family and friends give to us.
In some ways, though, observing and experiencing Arlo's milestones without mom is like a nasty scratch in your favorite record. Just as soon as I think normalcy is settling in and I am truly enjoying things , something happens to remind me that things are indeed different now. I miss daily phone call updates from her. I miss the weekly packages of toys and clothes. I started wrapping presents today and was reminded I wouldn't be recieving any of her goofy novelty gifts or even see her handwriting on gift tags. I'm trying very hard not to be negative , but I can't help but wish mom and dad were here and present to be able to enjoy Arlo as much as the rest of us. Trying to channel that frustration into something proactive and meaningful is exhausting at times. If I'm being honest, it takes a quiet yet upsetting toll, regardless of support. No one can truly fill that void of my folks not being present, not even me.
Torn and Frayed by the Stones is one of my " I can listen to this song on repeat for days and never get tired of it" songs. Lately it's been on repeat everyhwere in my life-- in my car, computer, head, etc...that and " The Obvious Child" by Paul Simon. Sometimes I measure out my life in songs, and these two seem to be hitting the mark lately. Freudian? Perhaps. Therapeutic? Of course. But overall, I am thankful for what I have now, presently. I have wonderful memories from mom, a dad who is working to get better and stronger, and an amazing son, husband, family and friends.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Update.
I figured the holidays would be rough this year without mom. The stress of school has kept me busy, but I still can't shake the feeling that something is missing this year. Even with my finals, term papers, Geoff's job, planning of Arlo's birthday and Christmas extravaganza and other miscellanous issues, I know inherently she isn't here, and won't be again. I hear a lot of " she's here in spirit" or " she's within you and what you do", but even as a therapist and a daughter of two therapiststs, I call bullshit on those sentiments at this time in my grieving process. I don't care about spirits and memories. I want her here, now. I wanted to see her at Thanksgiving, laughing and rolling her eyes at my neuroticism in parenting. I wanted to lay my head on her shoulder and hear her say " I love you, but stop laying on me. It's hot in here, you're 33, and too old to lay on your mama". Most importantly, I wanted her to enjoy watching her grandson as he ran around, played, threw tantrums, and just enjoyed his family and being himself.
We went ahead and went with the usual Thanksgiving traditions this year, and although there was an observable hole my heart and head, but I am glad we did. The look of delight on my son's face as he entered my Aunt's house with new Thomas the Train toys she had waiting for him was beyond amazing. My Aunt truly made Thanksgiving this year easier to digest even though mom was not present.
Unfortunately, the holidays look like they might be a bit more rough than previously expected this year. My father was placed in the ICU of the hospital this week, and is in serious but stable condition. His nurse was very kind this evening and attempted to help me talk to him over the phone. The only thing I could make out was " Laura Beth" and " I love you and your mother". I can't fathom life without both of them, but sadly it seems I must. I hope that he makes it through this hospital stay enough to be able to have a little more meaningful time with not only myself, but more importantly, with Arlo and my grandfather(his father).
I just finished up my first quarter of my MSW studies, and I'm hoping to get a 4.0, but we'll see. I truly feel like I have worked hard enough for a 4.0, but tests and finals are tricky so I'll be happy with whatever I get. I've met some awesome folks in my classes and am really thankful for their friendship and support.
I wanted to take the opportunity in this blog entry to thank my best friend, Erin, for not only being just generally awesome, but for taking care of my dad when I couldn't and being there for my family throughout everything. I love you, ED. Thanks also to all the friends and family who continue to be so supportive to Geoff and I, we greatly appreciate it. I also want to thank my mother and father-in-law for being so wonderful in helping to raise Arlo. We are so lucky to have such an awesome support group.
Arlo turns 2 a week from tomorrow... my, how time flies! He's still obsessed with Thomas the Train and loooooves singing his ABC's song. Everyday he does something absolutely amazing, and I am so lucky to have him as my son. Being a mom has really helped me define who I am as a person, and I have my son to thank for that. His sense of humor and general love of others is astounding.
I hope to update more as the holiday season rolls along. Thanks again for all the support.
We went ahead and went with the usual Thanksgiving traditions this year, and although there was an observable hole my heart and head, but I am glad we did. The look of delight on my son's face as he entered my Aunt's house with new Thomas the Train toys she had waiting for him was beyond amazing. My Aunt truly made Thanksgiving this year easier to digest even though mom was not present.
Unfortunately, the holidays look like they might be a bit more rough than previously expected this year. My father was placed in the ICU of the hospital this week, and is in serious but stable condition. His nurse was very kind this evening and attempted to help me talk to him over the phone. The only thing I could make out was " Laura Beth" and " I love you and your mother". I can't fathom life without both of them, but sadly it seems I must. I hope that he makes it through this hospital stay enough to be able to have a little more meaningful time with not only myself, but more importantly, with Arlo and my grandfather(his father).
I just finished up my first quarter of my MSW studies, and I'm hoping to get a 4.0, but we'll see. I truly feel like I have worked hard enough for a 4.0, but tests and finals are tricky so I'll be happy with whatever I get. I've met some awesome folks in my classes and am really thankful for their friendship and support.
I wanted to take the opportunity in this blog entry to thank my best friend, Erin, for not only being just generally awesome, but for taking care of my dad when I couldn't and being there for my family throughout everything. I love you, ED. Thanks also to all the friends and family who continue to be so supportive to Geoff and I, we greatly appreciate it. I also want to thank my mother and father-in-law for being so wonderful in helping to raise Arlo. We are so lucky to have such an awesome support group.
Arlo turns 2 a week from tomorrow... my, how time flies! He's still obsessed with Thomas the Train and loooooves singing his ABC's song. Everyday he does something absolutely amazing, and I am so lucky to have him as my son. Being a mom has really helped me define who I am as a person, and I have my son to thank for that. His sense of humor and general love of others is astounding.
I hope to update more as the holiday season rolls along. Thanks again for all the support.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Different
So I guess I'm no longer a full-fledged "stay at home mom" now that I'm back in academia. I've only taken a couple of classes this summer to ready my brain for the full-time experience to come this September, but WOW-- it really is a balancing act, especially with a 20 month old and a husband who now works 45 minutes from home. This isn't a complaint, rather just an observation and description of how my life has drastically changed within the past four months.
My first class was Statistics... and it met every single damn day for 3 weeks. I passed. Nothing really else to say other than I NEVER HAVE TO TAKE THAT CLASS AGAIN. The caps convey my feelings on this. I couldn't have done it without the help of my husband, mother-in-law, father-in-law, and my dad. Arlo decided it was time to nap in his crib right around when class started. Thank you, son. Thank you. Unfortunately, it still seems I suffer a bit from test anxiety. But the math anxiety? That's gone. Not sure why or how, but I got to the point where I pushed myself to believe that I really COULD do it, and threw out the old " I just can't compute" excuses. I think that in itself was a victory-- the biggest most important victory. Ironically enough, on the first page of the book in my psychometrics and personality traits class was a huge, glaring SCATTERPLOT with x's and y's and r= blah blah blah. But i didn't freak out, because I knew what it meant, thanks to my recent dance with stats class and new found confidence that math is NOT the root of all evil. ( it is the root of a lot of evil, but not all)
I registered for classes in the fall-- 16 credit hours, every day of the week, Friday classes are field placements which means I have to do some soul searching as to what sector I really want to work in, and fast. I'm in the mental health/direct practice/clinical track so I have an inkling of what I know I want to do and what I don't want to do. As an aside, apparently the government is offering 5000 bucks to any MSW who goes into the Child Welfare track... wish I could do that but that time has passed with me. Maybe 8 years ago, but definitely not now that I have my own kiddo. Went to the MSW Orientation and re-connected with an old friend which was really wonderful. I sat there in that tiny little classroom with those tiny little desks and thought... here I am... where I have wanted to be for 10 plus years now. I hope my mom is watching, and that she is proud.
My current class is extremely interesting but there is SO MUCH INFORMATION. Pro: the professor wrote the book that we are using for class. Con: the professor wrote the book that we are using for class. He's british (YAY, although I detect a hint of scottish in his accent as well) and very knowledgeable. My biggest difficulty is getting through all of the text. It's so dense, and I want to take it all in, but still have a life. In some ways this class is making me realize how much I love psychology and research... never thought I'd say that.
I miss my mom ferociously these days. Still angry, sad, lonely from her death. Arlo pointed to the picture of her and dad on the fridge today and said " gramanduke? hi gramanduke? It still takes a lot of effort not to totally break down when he does things like that. He has a mickey plane that she gave him for his birthday that hasn't worked in like 5 months or so-- it needed new batteries. Arlo likes to cart it around the house for some reason, and last week Geoff said " buddy, we need to get some new batteries in your mickey plane"... not 2 minutes later the thing started working again. Instances like that make me feel certain that she is present with every step we take.
It's been a tough road lately, but with the love and support from friends and family, we're going to make it. Thanks to everyone.
My first class was Statistics... and it met every single damn day for 3 weeks. I passed. Nothing really else to say other than I NEVER HAVE TO TAKE THAT CLASS AGAIN. The caps convey my feelings on this. I couldn't have done it without the help of my husband, mother-in-law, father-in-law, and my dad. Arlo decided it was time to nap in his crib right around when class started. Thank you, son. Thank you. Unfortunately, it still seems I suffer a bit from test anxiety. But the math anxiety? That's gone. Not sure why or how, but I got to the point where I pushed myself to believe that I really COULD do it, and threw out the old " I just can't compute" excuses. I think that in itself was a victory-- the biggest most important victory. Ironically enough, on the first page of the book in my psychometrics and personality traits class was a huge, glaring SCATTERPLOT with x's and y's and r= blah blah blah. But i didn't freak out, because I knew what it meant, thanks to my recent dance with stats class and new found confidence that math is NOT the root of all evil. ( it is the root of a lot of evil, but not all)
I registered for classes in the fall-- 16 credit hours, every day of the week, Friday classes are field placements which means I have to do some soul searching as to what sector I really want to work in, and fast. I'm in the mental health/direct practice/clinical track so I have an inkling of what I know I want to do and what I don't want to do. As an aside, apparently the government is offering 5000 bucks to any MSW who goes into the Child Welfare track... wish I could do that but that time has passed with me. Maybe 8 years ago, but definitely not now that I have my own kiddo. Went to the MSW Orientation and re-connected with an old friend which was really wonderful. I sat there in that tiny little classroom with those tiny little desks and thought... here I am... where I have wanted to be for 10 plus years now. I hope my mom is watching, and that she is proud.
My current class is extremely interesting but there is SO MUCH INFORMATION. Pro: the professor wrote the book that we are using for class. Con: the professor wrote the book that we are using for class. He's british (YAY, although I detect a hint of scottish in his accent as well) and very knowledgeable. My biggest difficulty is getting through all of the text. It's so dense, and I want to take it all in, but still have a life. In some ways this class is making me realize how much I love psychology and research... never thought I'd say that.
I miss my mom ferociously these days. Still angry, sad, lonely from her death. Arlo pointed to the picture of her and dad on the fridge today and said " gramanduke? hi gramanduke? It still takes a lot of effort not to totally break down when he does things like that. He has a mickey plane that she gave him for his birthday that hasn't worked in like 5 months or so-- it needed new batteries. Arlo likes to cart it around the house for some reason, and last week Geoff said " buddy, we need to get some new batteries in your mickey plane"... not 2 minutes later the thing started working again. Instances like that make me feel certain that she is present with every step we take.
It's been a tough road lately, but with the love and support from friends and family, we're going to make it. Thanks to everyone.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Still
I have to admit, Mother's Day was so much more difficult than I thought it would be. Mom and I spent many Mother's Day celebrations apart, so it was odd to me how upset and depressed I felt when I woke up. I spent the morning watching the newest Harry Potter for the gazillionth time, and the idea that it was all really just a distraction is not at all lost on me.
The previous week I kept going to the internet to try and order flowers... only to be reminded that I didn't need to. I would see a picture of her in the house and say to myself " you've got to get a card or something" only to have that thought interrupted by the realization that a sending a card and flowers wasn't necessary anymore.
"Not necessary anymore"... this truth haunts me now. I never thought I'd be in a place where I didn't obsess about the last minute about birthdays, mother's day, christmas, etc... and yet here I am. And it's confusing. Upsetting .But really it just makes me angry. She's supposed to be here to receive all these goofy consumer driven gifts of remembrance. She's supposed to endure my procrastination and tell me she doesn't " need any of this stuff anyway." My son is supposed to be making her scribble scrabble mothers day cards and sending her video greetings/phone calls.
I recently watched a video of my son when he received his "mickey plane" from my parents for his birthday, and in the background, I heard her distinctive chuckle... that machine gun laugh of hers that could permeate a room for years. Her passing is STILL amazing to me in that I can't believe it happened. It's been almost two months, and I honestly still can't wrap my head around it.
I'm jumping around the Kubler-Ross stages like my pants are on fire. I so wish that she could have watched Arlo grow up. I have this intense need for him to have some sort of memory of her although I know that his having any true memory of her is probably stretching it. Life with Arlo is amazing-- but life without mom is pretty darn lonely and debilitating. I just hope I'm being the best mom I can be to Arlo.
The previous week I kept going to the internet to try and order flowers... only to be reminded that I didn't need to. I would see a picture of her in the house and say to myself " you've got to get a card or something" only to have that thought interrupted by the realization that a sending a card and flowers wasn't necessary anymore.
"Not necessary anymore"... this truth haunts me now. I never thought I'd be in a place where I didn't obsess about the last minute about birthdays, mother's day, christmas, etc... and yet here I am. And it's confusing. Upsetting .But really it just makes me angry. She's supposed to be here to receive all these goofy consumer driven gifts of remembrance. She's supposed to endure my procrastination and tell me she doesn't " need any of this stuff anyway." My son is supposed to be making her scribble scrabble mothers day cards and sending her video greetings/phone calls.
I recently watched a video of my son when he received his "mickey plane" from my parents for his birthday, and in the background, I heard her distinctive chuckle... that machine gun laugh of hers that could permeate a room for years. Her passing is STILL amazing to me in that I can't believe it happened. It's been almost two months, and I honestly still can't wrap my head around it.
I'm jumping around the Kubler-Ross stages like my pants are on fire. I so wish that she could have watched Arlo grow up. I have this intense need for him to have some sort of memory of her although I know that his having any true memory of her is probably stretching it. Life with Arlo is amazing-- but life without mom is pretty darn lonely and debilitating. I just hope I'm being the best mom I can be to Arlo.
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