Tag Archives: grief

In Our Mother’s Closets

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January 30th, 2nd last day of the month and of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. It is the end of the day. I am tired. A busy productive day consisting of my sister and I taking our father to see the internal medicine doctor early in the morning.This past year has been many office, walkin-in and ER visits since our mother passed. We are all so vulnerable the first year after a significant death. And more so when the person is 94 and it is a spousal death.

We’ve all worked hard taking care of our father. The doctors commended our efforts. Our father is doing well now. They wouldn’t change a thing. They gave suggestions for possible things to do if such and such arise. And they will set up a follow up appointment in a month’s time. We are pleased that there will be a follow up and hope that it will hold up. Less doctor visits would be good.

There was still a lot of morning left after the appointment. We had planned to work on clearing more of our mother’s clothes before taking dad out for lunch. We hadn’t realized how much more there still was. This time wasn’t as emotionally difficult as the first closet we did last year. I even dare to say it was fun. We had alot of giggles and Oh my gods! as we pull out each item and tried them on. Our mother kept everything in very good condition. She must have kept all the things we had given her for Christmases and Mother’s Days. We never celebrate hers or dad’s birthdays either. We celebrated the kids’, her grandkids’ birthdays.

We got ambitious and went to the downstairs closets after lunch. Wow! There’s no need to go shopping. We could just shop at mom’s. She even kept some of our clothes for us. I pulled out the dress I sewed for my sister for her high school graduation. I had forgotten what it looked like. I couldn’t believe that it was me that sewed that dress. And I did it on my simple Kenmore from Sears. My sister couldn’t quite believe she could still get into the dress. Unfortunately she couldn’t quite zip it up in the back. Just one size too small.

I dropped 2 bags off at the clothing donation place. I have plans of using the cotton blouses to make another logcabin quilt. This one will be for my sister.

Making Sense of the World

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It’s the third day of the new year. Too early to get stuck and give up. It’s too early to sink into negativity though there are so many reasons to. A New Year’s Eve celebration at a Swiss ski resort turned into a firey disaster with 40 dead and over 100 injured. Untimely deaths due to overstretched healthcare. Then this morning’s news of Venezuela’s president being captured by the U.S. Is this legal? Obviously it is possible since it’s already happened. The world is too much for me.

Closer to home, my father’s younger brother died suddenly before Christmas. I seem to be losing relatives at an alarming speed. We only learned of his passing because his youngest brother, my other uncle decided to phone him. His wife answered and just said he passed with no further information. It is distressing to get such a phone call when I was just sitting down to coffee with my father at the mall. I had to play detective to find out if this was indeed true. We have not heard much from my father’s brother or his family. My mother was the one who tried to keep in touch with them. But she’s been gone for a year. To make a long story short, it is true.

It is sad that though we are family, we are strangers. They live just 2 hours down that lonesome highway. They have a daughter living here in the city. If I had ever ran into her, I wouldn’t know. I did get 2 of their children’s phone numbers from my aunt. I texted 2 of them. The daughter here did not respond. The eldest son responded right away. He seemed like a very nice person. I feel I have at least gained one family member. I told the son that we will not be going to the funeral. My father is 94 and my mother had passed last October. We’ve had a difficult year. It is winter. the roads and weather are unpredictable.

It has been indeed a hard year. We’ve all weathered it well. But we are tired. This winter is a bit strange. I’m relieved the holiday season is over. It did not at all felt like Christmas or New Year. I’ve made no resolutions or set goals. In the last Ultimate Blog Challenge I wrote about a goal of losing weight. Guess what? I haven’t and I’ve gained a few pounds instead. And I’ve already not showed up for the 2nd day of this challenge. I’m not looking at it as failure. I’m not looking at it as anything. If I was to have a goal, it would be not to marinate myself in negativity. You know what they say about the law of attraction and algorithms.

What Bugs Me

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So Christmas is over. There’s so much pressure to be happy, joyous and celebratory. I’m none of those and I feel guilty that I am not. There’s no law and there’s nobody wagging their finger at me. Perhaps that’s what bugs me the most, my self criticism. It is only right that we put on a happy face and wish each other Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. There’s no need to Bah, Humbug! It would be a sad world if everyone feel like me. Yet that’s how I feel. The thing is perhaps pretend and not to let it show. There is no gain in spoiling it for others.

I’m wallowing in my own misery. There’s no reason to not to feel and acknowledge what is inside of me. I like to think of it as self-care. No one else can truly know how I feel. I’m having a difficult time moving forward but I am putting one foot in front of the other every day. I am making progress though ever so slow. We’ve started the second year without my mother. Who knows how or how long a death affects a person. But it has changed me and my world. How, I am unable to articulate at this time. Perhaps it’s something to write about in January.

What bugs me is that I’m stuck in this space and time, wallowing. I used to look forward to the morning at bedtime. I couldn’t wait to start the day. Now, though I’m not dreading the day or anything, I like to lull in bed, wrapped in the warmth of the comforter and the darkness of the morning even though I am awake. When I do get up, I am surprised but not dismayed that it’s so late. I am bugged but I guess not bugged enough. I feel weighed down by some unknown force. Tomorrow is another day and next week it will be a new year. Hope on the horizon.

Reminiscing

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A beautiful cool sunny September morning. I am a little more peppy though I’m not ready to do the jig yet. I’ve taken my vitamins and made a tour of the garden and greenhouse. I’ve turned on the dehydrator on the deck. There’s 8 trays of Roma tomatoes drying, sending off their aroma into the air. The day has started and I am ready for it.

It’s 11 months since I’ve witnessed my mother taking her last breath. I’ve wondered and dreaded the moment since she was diagnosed with her heart condition in September 2001. It was a time hard to forget. She had her first CT scan on September 11, the day of the 911 attacks. I woke up listening to the news on the radio. I thought of our relatives in New York. Then we watched the news unfold in the waiting room at St. Paul Hospital.

Now it is 24 years later. I’m sitting here, sipping my tea and tapping on my keyboard. My mother is not here. She’s had a good 23 years without surgical intervention. There were ups and downs but she had done well till age caught up with her. 93 is a good age. She was alert and independent right till the last moment.We couldn’t ask for more, could we?

Though I am no stranger to death, it was traumatic. She was my mother. I was joined to her umbilically in her womb for all those months. Then we had all the years after. She was like the pebble in the sea, sending out waves near and far. And now there are no more waves. The world has changed for me without those waves. It reminds me of how powerful each of us can be and how the world changes when we depart.

Looking in All the Wrong/Right Places

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Finally, we have a morning with sunshine and no smoke. Still, I feel no joy though I’m not feeling bad. Is this what is called ‘numb’? Perhaps I should not be scrolling, searching for news, for information but I do. This morning I wanted to know more about Donald Trump and the Epstein files. I should have left things alone and stay in the dark. But on and on I went, reading more about the Donald, Vance and Epstein. It’s no wonder I’m feeling somewhat stun.

I had to remind myself that I am probably still grieving. It’s only 10 months since my mother passed. It feels like forever and unreal. How can someone who’s been here for so long just disappear? You would think I’ve had enough time to prepare for her departure. No, there never seems to be enough time. She was so alive and then she was not. We were all witnesses at her side. She called and waited for me. I remember it well.

I know I must not dawdle in my puddle of loss and grief. I must keep moving. I got my ass out of the chair. I put my moody blues on the shelf. I vacuumed the floor. I head out to the community garden with my hoe and pail. The weeds are weeded and the snowpeas are picked. The library was the next stop to pick up Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way Every Day. Maybe it is just what I need to get through each day. I’m still searching for answers in books. Am I looking in all the wrong places? Time will tell. I will let you know.

Working on Living

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Yesterday was a hard day. I finished reading What My Father and I Don’t Talk About. It was a great read of 16 writers’ essays on their fathers. However, it left me feeling more melancholic than usual. I would still like to read What My Mother and I Don’t Talk About though we had talked plenty. I am sure that she had not told me everything. Now, I can’t ask her. I am still travelling in the landscape of the bereaved. Some days are harder than others. The heat and humidity made it harder yesterday. I know that life goes on no matter how I feel. The world still spins on its axis. The sun still rise and set each day. And so must I – rise to the challenges of living and then rest when tired.

I took my father out for lunch yesterday. I didn’t realize it was Canada Day but it worked out well. At least I can say that’s how I celebrated our country’s birthday when people ask. I’m not big on celebrations. I am a true humbug. I think that came from being an immigrate child of immigrants. We were poor starting out in this country. We didn’t celebrate birthdays, Christmas, New Year, Easter, and Thanksgiving like everybody else. On Canada Day, we didn’t join in the town’s festivities. So I do think that as a child, I must have felt left out, odd, not belonging, etc. etc.

I tried hard yesterday not to languish in my melancholia. I tackled 2 bags of my mother’s clothes laying dormant on the basement floor. It wasn’t too bad, not worsening my mood. The clothes stirred up some good and happy memories of mom in her younger years. Now, I see her vibrant and happy in my mind’s eye. For me, sorting the 2 bags was a big accomplishment and enough for one day.

Today, I am feeling better. The heat is still on but there’s not the humidity/heaviness weighing me down. There is a breeze. I am okay. I went to the gym this morning. Worked the weights. Worked on skipping techniques. Worked on hula hooping. I can talk and hula at the same time. Now to hula while walking. That’s another thing. So meanwhile I am working on feeling social and feeling good. I’m going to sock it to life.

PS. I am also working on the Ultimate Blog Challenge.

How It Is

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It rained overnight and is raining still. The garden is drinking it all up. It pays to have patience and faith that our world will survive. I also must have patience and faith that I, too, will survive. Tomorrow will be 8 months that my mother have left us. We are grateful we’ve had her for so long, but it’s never enough. Though I knew her time was near, I didn’t know how to prepare. And how does one do that anyways until it happened?

So I’m piddling along as best as I can. Some days I do/try better/harder than others. Some days I like to completely chill and do nothing. I haven’t been good at that for a very long time. There’s part of me that always want to ‘fix’ and make it better. That’s not bad, I suppose, because it means I’m always hopeful, always seeking. I’m not good at moping though I often feel mopeful. I should really learn not to brood/think so much.

It is both true and false that it gets better with time. But really. When someone as significant as your mother disappears from your life, how do you navigate that? I am a bit lost in this first year of strangeness. Some days are good. Some days are not at all. And that’s how it is with me. Regardless of how the days are, I’ve been alright and functional. For someone who gets lost all the time, I’ve been able to drive myself and my father to and from coffee every day. Most of the time it’s just down the street to the mall.

Making Shine

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A windy Saturday morning. The sun is trying its best to shine through the grey sky. It’s a cool 12℃, feeling like 6℃ the weather app say. It is cool and the air is smoky. Rain in the forecast but no sign of it yet. It is hard to feel cheery and hopeful but it does no good to be morose. So I’m trying hard not to be. I made a walk to the greenhouse. It’s a cozy 22℃ with the door closed and just a side vent opened for ventilation. The snowpeas are still in their prime with new growth. I’ve harvested a lot of peas already. Hoping for more. The cucumbers are coming along. They have blooms but will be awhile before we will get something to eat. 2/4 bitter melons are ok. The other 2 are struggling along, being attacked by aphids. I have sprouted a few more seeds for insurance. There’s still time.

Life still goes on regardless of whatever hardship we are going through. The sun still rises in the east and sets in the west. It’s what we call a day. It is up to each individual to choose how they will navigate the time between the two. Many days I feel hopeless and gloomy. Many days I want to vegetate and not do a thing. I know, and we all know, that no action means no change. Wishing and a-hoping are not actions. They’re just words from a song. So I try to shine the best and any way I can.

It’s getting out of bed every morning, getting dressed, brushing my teeth and showing up at the breakfast table, doing the dishes, sweeping the floor, putting away things.

It is Sunday afternoon. I haven’t been good at putting things away lately. My snow boots are still hanging out on the deck. The deck is still littered with all my pottting soil and containers. There’s no place to sit. I’ve been meaning to tidy up and put things away. I haven’t put anything away and meaning to doesn’t do the job. I just have to do it. That’s all. It is quite simple and yet not. I will tend to the boots and make a start on the containers once I’m done here.

We had a bit of rain last night. It took away the smoke and the sun came out this morning. It’s still a bit windy but it was a good day for us to pour libations for our mother and grandparents at the cemetery this morning. It was a bit strange not to have our mother to guide us in the ritual. We did the best we could. We lit incense sticks, bowed and pour libations for our grandfather, grandmother and mother. Then we burn paper money to ensure their well being and prosperity. Then we departed to the Mandarin Restaurant for dim sim.

A Good Thursday Afterall

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Today is one of those many cups of everything day. I’m wanting to drown all my feelings. I can’t and I don’t. Instead I sit with them all. I draw my #95 teacup for my #100dayproject and my day 5 of Daisy Yellow Index Card a Day Challenge. Today’s prompt for the #dyicad is hydrangea. I like prompts. They are my guiding lights not only for my art work but also living in this year of being lost in the strange wilderness of grief and loss. It’s a mouthful of a long sentence but you know what I mean.

I’m also standing with all my feelings. I like washing dishes by hand. I’m soothing my nerves as I clean each piece in the warm sudsy water. I’m washing away my cares and woes. The chaos goes down the drain with the dirty water. Peace fills its place. I’m soothed and smoothed.

I go out to the garden even though I don’t feel like it. The lettuce and spinach are in need of harvesting. It would be a shame to let them get too old to eat. I snip and pull and stuff them into bags. They will keep in the fridge or our walk in cooler. There’s enough to share with friends and family. Sharing is good and takes me out of focusing on myself.

It’s been a good day in the end. I got out of the house and out of myself. My sister and I took our father out for coffee in Circle Centre Mall. After, we cruised the Dollarama Store and found some neat stuff for the garden. I bought a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups as a reward for a day well done. We stopped at the library on the way home to pick up some Chinese books for my father. I think we all went home soothed and smoothed. I hope so anyways.

Tsunamis and Tidal Waves

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I am enjoying a bit of good energy and vibes this morning. It’s such a relief after yesterday. I have been warned about days where grief can hit you like tsunami or tidal wave. I am not even sure if it is grief. It came out of nowhere yesterday morning. I was hit with such a bad feeling. It was hard to swallow, think, to move. I wondered how I could carry on, breathe, cook, clean, write my post. I worried about my father’s health. He is after all, 93, the same age as my mother. I don’t want to be responsible for for his health/life. It doesn’t seem fair and I am a little ticked off at my mother for leaving us – and without a manual to guide us.

It’s a bit strange but most times I don’t feel her death. She’s just not here. And with her gone, I feel the many losses of our family. There’s no one to call me by my Chinese name except my father. I just realized that yesterday. It makes me feel somewhat heart broken. And there will be no one to ask or talk to about our home village and all things regarding our heritage and ancestors. My father still has a remarkable memory about all that though he has not been back since he left as a young man. I was drowning with all these thoughts and guilt on things I didn’t do.

All things do pass. I was able to get beyond my emotions and put one foot in front of the other. There’s life to be lived and things we have to do. No matter how we feel, we have to get up, dress up and show up somehow. Some days are better than others. Today is a better day. I thought out what I want/have to do and the best of how and when to do them. Progress is slow and minuscule. I see results and I am happy with them. I’ve been to the gym this morning, planted all the cauliflower and harvested lettuce from the greenhouse for lunch. I am a happy and relaxed camper.