It's been awhile since I last wrote. Sorry, but you must know by now what has been happening; at least, I hope you do. I am also hoping Mike has found his way to both you and Patty. That's half of our original family "there," and the other half still here. Please keep each other company until the rest of us make it to your new digs (terrible, terrible pun intended!), but please do not anticipate any of us too soon. We all like it here, as all of you did, and we hope to live to be very, very old and wrinkled before we journey your way. Always remember we loved you and will always love you - as far as love will last - you are forever loved!
Today has been a difficult day for me, Mom. One where I would really welcome your presence and advice, or just your shoulder to cry on. My heart overflows at times, or seems to want to, and I long for the relationship we had as mother and daughter, as well as the budding friendship I felt we were developing after so many disastrous turns during the biological relationship - read that as "teenage years."
What I want to talk to you about started with this really wonderful dream I had after my mastectomies. Not the time for wonderful dreams, as such, but I had one anyway. In the dream, for the first time in my life that I can recall, I felt truly beautiful. I do not routinely go around feeling odd and ugly and have, in the past, felt attractive, pretty, desirable, etc. I have also been happier than I ever thought I could be with my sweetie-pie, so I do not think the contrast within myself was the result of any neglect or lack of appreciation from the people who love me.
I think I just never truly believed I was beautiful and, therefore, was never able to feel beautiful. (I REALLY wish you were right here to talk to, Mom!) It was a wonderful dream. In addition to my getting to know what being beautiful felt like I also gained some insight into why so many women become obsessed with makeup, weight, clothing, men, and so on - to feel beautiful! In all of my fifty-plus years I don't know why I never seemed to twig to that.
In retrospect, my dream also has caused a concern for me. If it was possible for me to feel so beautiful, is it possible I could be instrumental in making my partner feel as virile and handsome as I felt feminine and beautiful? I admit I cried at the thought that I, we, were somehow missing a key ingredient in our relationship if we were not communicating this to one another. I love him so much, Mom! Perhaps we have just been through too much over the past few years; too much pain, too much illness, too much death.
Anyway, that is what has me missing you most right now. I admit it's selfish, but in this relationship I am the child, still and forever.
Please tell Patty and Mike I love them both very much and miss them every day. We all get on with our lives, but there are holes in our hearts that will never be filled until we meet again and greet one another with enormous hugs.
Your Daughter
P.S. Please also tell M. and P. I said, "MY Mommy!"
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Life's Sweetness and Heartache
As I reread my most recent posts regarding my brother, the tears began to flow and I was reminded, again, that it has been only a couple of weeks or so since he died. The memories of those first few days feel like an eternity ago, but the pain of losing Mike is still more fresh than I often realize until some small thing - some word or visual reminder - brings him to mind and then the tears start afresh and my heart feels broken all over again.
One of the things I felt that I did not mention in my earlier post, following Mike's death, was that I very much wanted to go racing back to the funeral home with a blanket and cover him up with it, sort of "tucking him in" and making him "comfy." I know it was not rational, but it was one of the many reactions I had during the course of that miserable day. Even knowing he was gone and beyond my help and love I still wanted to take care of him!
Many of the roads I drive in our area now feel more lonely than before, since I would often traverse them on my way to visit Mike or to take him out to lunch. The first truly beautiful, brilliant day we had this Spring reminded me there would be no more picnics with Mike in the park, even if we just mostly ended up buying fast food and driving over there to eat it. Sometimes I was able to get it together enough to make the potato salad and sandwiches, as well as other treats, that constitute the more traditional picnic fare.
Mike would have been 52 this August. It will be difficult to keep myself from beginning the mental birthday shopping that has taken place every year of my adult life for so many years now. I will have to remind myself repeatedly that Mike is no longer here to enjoy any gifts I might find for him. Of course, those reminders are no guarantee the mental shopping will ever stop,as I still spot things now and then that I think Patty or my Mom would have enjoyed. It's only when the thoughts come in the present tense that they cause pain, and that does not happen so much as the passage of time heals and memories fade into soft pastels rather than vivid, bold, emotive hues.
The air tonight is soft and cool and caresses my skin, healing the reactions to the heat of the past two days. The feeling is soft; soft like a touch of love from my Mom - full of comfort and peace. Soft like the thoughts of love I have for my brother, my sister, Mom, as well as all those I have not yet had to say a final "good-bye" to, and I feel grateful as well as sad.
Putting my grief into words and placing them here has helped dry my eyes and calm my heartache. I only hope it may also help do the same for someone else who may need like comfort for the things happening in their own lives.
Love,
Izzlebug
One of the things I felt that I did not mention in my earlier post, following Mike's death, was that I very much wanted to go racing back to the funeral home with a blanket and cover him up with it, sort of "tucking him in" and making him "comfy." I know it was not rational, but it was one of the many reactions I had during the course of that miserable day. Even knowing he was gone and beyond my help and love I still wanted to take care of him!
Many of the roads I drive in our area now feel more lonely than before, since I would often traverse them on my way to visit Mike or to take him out to lunch. The first truly beautiful, brilliant day we had this Spring reminded me there would be no more picnics with Mike in the park, even if we just mostly ended up buying fast food and driving over there to eat it. Sometimes I was able to get it together enough to make the potato salad and sandwiches, as well as other treats, that constitute the more traditional picnic fare.
Mike would have been 52 this August. It will be difficult to keep myself from beginning the mental birthday shopping that has taken place every year of my adult life for so many years now. I will have to remind myself repeatedly that Mike is no longer here to enjoy any gifts I might find for him. Of course, those reminders are no guarantee the mental shopping will ever stop,as I still spot things now and then that I think Patty or my Mom would have enjoyed. It's only when the thoughts come in the present tense that they cause pain, and that does not happen so much as the passage of time heals and memories fade into soft pastels rather than vivid, bold, emotive hues.
The air tonight is soft and cool and caresses my skin, healing the reactions to the heat of the past two days. The feeling is soft; soft like a touch of love from my Mom - full of comfort and peace. Soft like the thoughts of love I have for my brother, my sister, Mom, as well as all those I have not yet had to say a final "good-bye" to, and I feel grateful as well as sad.
Putting my grief into words and placing them here has helped dry my eyes and calm my heartache. I only hope it may also help do the same for someone else who may need like comfort for the things happening in their own lives.
Love,
Izzlebug
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