This was the year. Of course I thought about it. But I didn’t obsess about it all day. And the day before. And the day after.
What is July 25? [Read more...]
On death and dying…
16 July 2010 By Leave a Comment
Isn’t that a book? Regardless… I know I talk a lot about death. The whole concept freaks me out as much as I am at home with it. I know it’s inevitable. I know as soon as we are born we are living on borrowed time. We don’t win this great race, not really. Our reward at the end is death. [Read more...]
Why can’t we live inside of dreams?
30 March 2010 By 1 Comment
Last night I had a dream that my mother was alive, She was hiding though. We went to a hotel… I don’t remember why now. It was a dump. It had an elevator and you could only enter from inside, but it was a dump just the same. We were staying in the same room as she was in. She left a mess, and a cat and the cat knew. When we checked in we didn’t know it was her room. It was like the last person to use it left in a hurry. Mess under the bed, bed unmade. We checked in and I knew she was there. How? We lode around. The neighbor came in. I don’t remember why. She commented on the last person to use the room. Made some noise and then left. She was dead, we had a funeral. [Read more...]
Sometimes in seeking, we don’t always find
22 January 2010 By 1 Comment
Sometimes I go looking for my mom, because I’ve forgotten she isn’t there, and I am surprised when I can’t find her.
Last week Sara was talking downstairs and I swore it was mom. I don’t hear her in my own voice, although I hear her in my words. I was pleasantly surprised to find her in Sara’s. [Read more...]
So…
3 September 2009 By 3 Comments
In my flitting about the internet I wound up in this blog (not that post, but I wound up in that post) and it got me to thinking…
By the time my oldest was not quite 3 and my middle was not quite 1 they had been through an extended illness, death and funeral. I cuddled and comforted my father, while my mother cuddled and was comforted by my children. I breastfed by the graveside so my baby would keep quiet during the services. My toddler said Aunt Erin is in the ground now. We wept, and I was strong and I have always shown photos of Aunt Erin and said who she is and reminded them to not forget… introduced them for they will never meet.
By the time oldest was just past 6 and my middle was just past 4 and my baby was barely 18 months we had dealt with another long illness, another death, another funeral. This time I breastfed, and had another child hiding under my skirt and another comforted my father. We wept again, and I was strong again, and I have to remind my children I had a mommy and who she was because they are kids and they forget.I have to remind them I had another sister too, they had a Grandma and an Aunt and all we have left are pictures and memories to share, and those memories pop up at the strangest of times.
I’m watching my grandma and zaide get old now. I’ve never dealt with aging death. Death that creeps in from all sides, slowly and stealthily. I can’t say it’s any better than death from illness… which I suppose in itself if slow and stealthy, just a different kind. How will I explain that to them? Will I even have to?
I am always interested in how people choose to introduce this to their kids – I think they can handle it better than we think they can. I think they get it, and I think at some point they will worry about us disappearing regardless of whether it’s at age two or four or ten or thirty. I know I can handle death in my twenties… how about in my fifties? It’s a new experience every time.
