Tag Archives: grieving

September Days

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The sun rises later each morning as do I. I cocoon deeper into the warmth of the quilt and darkness though I do know it is morning. I have to coax my limbs to move, to swing myself out of bed and into life. It is a very cloudy and misty morning. The colours of autumn light up the world. The world is a bit dark now. I have to focus on the light that surrounds me. I won’t let the darkness rule me.

I do not wonder about the darkness that is in our world today. How could it be otherwise? I have the right words but sometimes I cannot live up to them. I’ve been struggling for days to come out of the mist of my mind. I have not succeeded. Every morning I say to myself later. Every evening, I say tomorrow. So here I am, still mired in the cobwebs of my mind. I am still working my way through the passing of my mother. It will be a year in a month. Then there’s the tending of my aged father. He is also working through his way without my mother.

September comes with many losses. Long days with sunshine are replaced with longer darkness. The leaves are turning gold and orange and falling to the ground. The heat of summer are cooling. A dear friend have left this earth. I am sad with all these changes. I am sad but I am ok. I am sad and yet I am fascinated with my new world. There’s so much yet to see and to learn.

Our Mothers

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Our mothers, who art in heaven. Hallowed be their names. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.

There’s not a day that I don’t think of my mother. It seems like the world and I have changed with her passing. She’s no longer here to save my day. I’ve been having to do it on my own. It hasn’t been easy. Some days are harder than others. The hard part is running into her friends at the mall. They miss her. It is sad to see their misty eyes. It is hard to hear them say, I have maybe 2 years left. It is also good to talk and coffee with them. They feel like my friends now.

The other day, I received the sad news that mom’s very good friend has passed away. We had known her forever. She was like family. She had helped us so much when we first moved to Saskatoon.She showed mom the ins and outs of Saskatoon. She helped mom find work at a greenhouse and later at a sewing factory. I thought she and mom would be here forever. But now they’re both gone. It is the natural order of things. I feel my world shrinking, people leaving one by one. Still, I’m comforted that they’ve left their physical pain behind. I hope they find each other and am enjoying a cup of heavenly tea.

Lauguidity

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I hate the feeling of dread, of putting off things I should be doing or should have done. I can’t really identify what it is that I’m putting off. I don’t want to either. I would have to do it then, wouldn’t I. So I rather sit with this discomfort, this dread till it passes somehow. I wash the breakfast dishes, sweeps the dust off the floor and now here I am, at the keyboard.

Thoughts are not flowing. The words are hard to come by. I feel languid. I feel limp. My iMac freezes again and I’m on my laptop. My second cup of tea is almost finished. I’m using tea to fill in the gaps like I used to use cigarettes. At least it has no bad side effects except increased trips to the bathroom. I’m restless. I move to the deck and repotted some tomato seedlings. I’m not sitting stuck.

I cut some tulips and elephant ear blooms from my flowerbed to take to mom’s grave this afternoon. I put them in water and stuck them in the cooler to keep fresh. I head out to London Drugs to get a bath mat for my father. While there, I also got a new pair of sunglasses. I made sure that the bottom of the lenses does not touch my face, leaving their mark long after taking them off. The next stop, The Asian Market for incense sticks and josh paper. Not sure whether we will use them but I will have them. The last stop was to get a potted geranium for mom. It will last a while longer than the tulips. Mom loved flowers.

That was yesterday. Another year. Another Mother’s Day. Now it’s a reminder that my mother is no longer here, a reminder that it’s the day before that she fell and broke her hip and the downward spiral to her final resting place 5 months later. I suppose I am grieving, not only for her but for all of life. I have had more than a few regrets, of roads not taken. I have to live with it all somehow, someway. I am no Frank Sinatra. I didn’t do it my way.

The Third Week

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It’s the Monday after the Sunday night 2 weeks after mom has gone. I’m starting the 3rd week without her. It feels unreal. It feels like she’s still here, just a half a block down the street. I still expect the phone to ring. I would pick it up and it would be mom giving me her grocery list. Or I would think, I have to ask mom. Now, sometimes I hesitate to look at her photos, afraid that she wouldn’t be there. When I do look, she is still my same mom.

Today, I went over to vacuum for dad. My brother and niece had taken him out. I was in mom’s house by myself. It still feels light and bright as always. Not too much to vacuum up except a little in the kitchen. Not much dust anywhere except in dad’s room. All the windows and screens looked clean. I wonder if mom’s been back, cleaning and dusting. She was always meticulously clean and tidy even up to her last moments.

I was almost finished when my dad returned. He said that my brother and niece had taken him to Market Mall, brought flowers, coffees and muffins and drove out to lay flowers for mom. He is full of grieve and weeping. What can I say or do? Some words of comfort? He has lived longer than me. I try to console. The reality is, this is something none of us can escape. I tell him mom is still here, looking over him. And we, his children are also suffering and grieving for our mother. It is early. Only 2 weeks ago. Time will ease the sorrow. We are all ok, doing the best we can, looking out for each other.

I’m writing for the National Blog Posting Month. It gives me one goal a day. It keeps me a little sane.

THE NATURAL ORDER OF THINGS

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March 18th, 2021. I woke at 6 am to 0℃ outside and 4℃ in the greenhouse. Funny how the temperatures dip around 8 to -1℃ and 3.4℃ before going up again. Now they are 2℃ and 5.4℃. I’m still being a weatherman. I find if I don’t record things, they are easily forgotten. I should really do a gardening journal. Maybe soon. Famous last words, eh?

I’ve done a bit of sewing this morning. A little will do me. I find that if I make a start on something, even a teeny one, I have more success of completing it. I do get overwhelmed with the big of everthing. Breaking the big into bits and pieces work. I’ve got most of my flowers seeded yesterday. I had laid out the seed packs the day before. Sometimes I just can’t get to things. Appointments, dates with friends and fatigue interfere. They are important but it is also important to return to the task at hand.

I finally threw out the last of Sheba’s kibbles yesterday. It was still sitting in the pail in the kitchen. It’s 10 months since my fur baby went to dog heaven. Time to let some of this stuff go but I can’t help tearing and choking up a bit. It’s the memories, lost and the realization you can’t hold on forever. Our lives are finite. It is the natural order of things.We each will have our turn. We learn, accept and let go. I had 14 wonderful years with her.

A lot of the snow is gone. The little monk sits exposed in sunshine. He’s been watching over the herb spiral all through the winter. He has done a good job. Most of the herbs have survived – the rosemary, thymes, moss, oregano and chocolate mint. I must also do my duty, walk my walk and live my best life.

PARIS AND IN MY LIFE

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It is another morning.  Paris is a continent away but sorrow resides in the universe.  How have we have come to this time when people knowingly open fire upon their fellow human beings?  Surely they must know that they will be killed in return.  What pushed them to give up their lives?

I ask these questions because I do not understand.  I see that they are as much victims as as the ones they have killed.  However their situations/lives may be, there will be no other chances after they are dead.  But then, I am not in their shoes.  Have not walked their mile. Have never want of the basics of life.

I’m asking these questions and seeing the words of Joni Mitchell:

I’ve looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It’s life’s illusions I recall …

I’m listening to John Lennon’s In My Life sung by Johnny Cash’s quivering voice.

These songs and lyrics play in my head along with the questions that Paris stirs up.  There is one thing I am sure of.  Life is good.  Life is sweet.  Let me count the ways.

  • waking up in the morning to the aroma of coffee perking
  • the first sip of coffee/tea. What’s not to like about that
  • breathing, laughing, crying, feeling the tears down my cheeks
  • seeing my sunroom bathed in sunlight on a cool November day
  • Sheba coming in to wake us up. Time for breakfast she says
  • making breakfast, eating breakfast, doing dishes
  • writing my words, writing my happiness, writing my pain
  • and so on and on – the ordinary, the mundane, the fantastic, the sorrows

And so, life goes on – moment by moment in all its catastrophes.  It is what we have.  I am glad I am here – in my life.