Lachrymose Farewell
I've written and rewritten this post several times, in different versions over the last few weeks. I thought I'd just save as a draft and see. I guess I should stop wasting time rewriting repeatedly, write a final version, post and just let it pass...
Over the past year, I have been very busy and have been running full steam, so to speak. Part of this is my own doing, and partly due to the many out-of-town visitor that have been coming one after another over the summer through September. For a couple of weeks now, I've been experiencing that weird sore feeling in the back of my throat. I wasn't sure what it was -- I thought I was partly due to things quieting down and me not paying attention to my body, and maybe only a little with the approaching anniversary of mom's passing. Tuesday was Oct. 24. It was mom's birthday. It was the 1st year of her passing. Yes, she died on her birthday. I didn't tell anyone about it. Actually, I haven't even really been able to bring myself to look at all the pictures that were taken when my sister and I went to Big Sur to scatter the remaining of our mother's ashes this past June. I promised to send Sherri, who took a lot of the pictures for us, some photos of the trip, but I didn't manage to send them to her until 2 weeks ago.
Anyway, on Tuesday, I went to work. Work was really hard, especially since over half of my cases suddenly started having problems and urgent matters that I needed to attend to. (Those problems were just things that are beyond my control, but I still have to try and address/fix them.) It was extremely challenging to go through the day, but I didn't cry. I sat at my desk, unable to concentrate much(well, I've had this problem for a few months now). I really wanted to take Tuesday off, but I had already put some stuff off, and so I felt had to just tread on. Once I got home, I crashed. Everything felt like shit. I didn't bawl, but every few minutes, my eyes would well up a little for a minute or so, stop for about 10-15 minutes and start back up again. It was weird. I've never done that before -- Not even in high school, when my best friend died in a tragic and horrific accident. The evening was made worse by calls from my aunt (mom's younger sister) and Auntie and Uncle Yen, family friends who were the only 2 people besides my aunt, my sister and I that my mom would allow into her home to help her. They meant to check up on me. I told them I was doing wonderfully well; my usual response. My aunt's call was a little different -- I could tell she had been crying, which made me want to cry. Because I didn't want to make my aunt cry more by getting choked up and sad, I covered up my unstable voice by telling her that I had a cold, which I do sort of have. Those 2 calls occurred within less than an hour of each other, and needless to say, I blubbered a little after those calls. My poor hubby was at a loss of what to do. He did the best that he could by staying with me and rubbing my back through the 3-4 hour morose silence.
On Wednesday, I woke up at my usual time and got halfway ready for work. I stood in the bathroom aimlessly for 10 minutes and finally decided to do myself a favor and stay home. I went back to bed and spent the afternoon meditatively re-skeining a heap of yarn that I had painted. As Zona says, there must be something in wool that calms people and makes everyone want it. That evening, I decided to do myself another favor and dragged my butt to my knitting group, despite my not wanting to be social. 99% of the time I look forward to Wednesday, my favorite night of the week, but given that I felt and looked crappy, going just seemed like it would take too much effort. As difficult as it was, I am glad that I did go hang out with my knitting group.
Thursday was sort of blah too. Not better, not worse, for the most part, except at the end of the day. I returned a call to a VERY challenging and disturbed family (and that's on a good day for them). Things weren't happening the way they wanted to, and there's nothing else me or my agency can do for them, so they got irate, belligerent and were 50 times worse than they normally are, which on an intensity level. is 200 times more than most people. Throughout the week, I pretty much stayed in my office all day and my door was either always closed or just slightly ajar. I think some of the people in the office kind of knew I was not having a good day or just thought I was extremely busy. I haven't told anyone about this non-celebratory, mournful anniversary.
Actually, I haven't talked or thought about mom's passing, the scattering of the ashes or other moments much, either to myself or anyone else on any deep level. I have talked about it generally though. I have this uncanny ability to talk about tragic things in my life as if I am a reporter, removed from the emotional attachments of the situation, and just talking as a matter-of-fact. I can tell people what event happened, what I observed, and am generally pretty open about sharing; I just present it as if I were reading an assessment and citing some fact pattern. I've always been able to do that, a "skill" of mine that, in the past, has been criticized and misunderstood by my sister and the rest of my family. I rarely cry in front of people, even in front of my husband. I think this is partly because I was always more mature than my peers and was always the one my friends go to for help and advice. My sister also doesn't cry, but to herself, and only rarely. Then again, she's a true introvert and the kind of person who bottles everything up and doesn't let people see the little box of emotions she carries with her under lock and key. I'm actually very very surprised that she blogs some of her very deep thoughts. Well, everyone is different and copes differently. This will likely be the first and last post of this nature for me.
About 2 weeks after mom passed, as she requested, we scattered her half of her ashes in an wooded area in central Texas on a property owned by aBuddhist association. Then in June, I drove up to San Franciso and then went to Big Sur with my sister and friend Sherri to scatter the rest of mom's ashes. She had requested that we scatter the last half of her ashes in California, perferably halfway between my sister and me, nearby giant sequoia or redwood trees. Scattering the last half of mom's ashes was somewhat relieving and did give me some sense of closure, but the journey there was rather tumultous -- I was very level headed and tried to remain jovial and positive, but obviously my sister was experiencing her own emotions and needless to say, we got on each others' nerves, with poor Sherri in the car too. Oh well, a short post run amuck...I only intended to write a brief post and put up the pictures, as a the last unfinished task. Here they are:
Above: Scattering her ashes. To the right and below of where the tree sits is a stream. I know mom would be happy with the quite and peaceful spot we chose for her.
L: My sister next to the twin redwood where mom's ashes rest. R: We tried to lighten the event and got a little playful in a natural tree hollow.
Over the past year, I have been very busy and have been running full steam, so to speak. Part of this is my own doing, and partly due to the many out-of-town visitor that have been coming one after another over the summer through September. For a couple of weeks now, I've been experiencing that weird sore feeling in the back of my throat. I wasn't sure what it was -- I thought I was partly due to things quieting down and me not paying attention to my body, and maybe only a little with the approaching anniversary of mom's passing. Tuesday was Oct. 24. It was mom's birthday. It was the 1st year of her passing. Yes, she died on her birthday. I didn't tell anyone about it. Actually, I haven't even really been able to bring myself to look at all the pictures that were taken when my sister and I went to Big Sur to scatter the remaining of our mother's ashes this past June. I promised to send Sherri, who took a lot of the pictures for us, some photos of the trip, but I didn't manage to send them to her until 2 weeks ago.
Anyway, on Tuesday, I went to work. Work was really hard, especially since over half of my cases suddenly started having problems and urgent matters that I needed to attend to. (Those problems were just things that are beyond my control, but I still have to try and address/fix them.) It was extremely challenging to go through the day, but I didn't cry. I sat at my desk, unable to concentrate much(well, I've had this problem for a few months now). I really wanted to take Tuesday off, but I had already put some stuff off, and so I felt had to just tread on. Once I got home, I crashed. Everything felt like shit. I didn't bawl, but every few minutes, my eyes would well up a little for a minute or so, stop for about 10-15 minutes and start back up again. It was weird. I've never done that before -- Not even in high school, when my best friend died in a tragic and horrific accident. The evening was made worse by calls from my aunt (mom's younger sister) and Auntie and Uncle Yen, family friends who were the only 2 people besides my aunt, my sister and I that my mom would allow into her home to help her. They meant to check up on me. I told them I was doing wonderfully well; my usual response. My aunt's call was a little different -- I could tell she had been crying, which made me want to cry. Because I didn't want to make my aunt cry more by getting choked up and sad, I covered up my unstable voice by telling her that I had a cold, which I do sort of have. Those 2 calls occurred within less than an hour of each other, and needless to say, I blubbered a little after those calls. My poor hubby was at a loss of what to do. He did the best that he could by staying with me and rubbing my back through the 3-4 hour morose silence.
On Wednesday, I woke up at my usual time and got halfway ready for work. I stood in the bathroom aimlessly for 10 minutes and finally decided to do myself a favor and stay home. I went back to bed and spent the afternoon meditatively re-skeining a heap of yarn that I had painted. As Zona says, there must be something in wool that calms people and makes everyone want it. That evening, I decided to do myself another favor and dragged my butt to my knitting group, despite my not wanting to be social. 99% of the time I look forward to Wednesday, my favorite night of the week, but given that I felt and looked crappy, going just seemed like it would take too much effort. As difficult as it was, I am glad that I did go hang out with my knitting group.
Thursday was sort of blah too. Not better, not worse, for the most part, except at the end of the day. I returned a call to a VERY challenging and disturbed family (and that's on a good day for them). Things weren't happening the way they wanted to, and there's nothing else me or my agency can do for them, so they got irate, belligerent and were 50 times worse than they normally are, which on an intensity level. is 200 times more than most people. Throughout the week, I pretty much stayed in my office all day and my door was either always closed or just slightly ajar. I think some of the people in the office kind of knew I was not having a good day or just thought I was extremely busy. I haven't told anyone about this non-celebratory, mournful anniversary.
Actually, I haven't talked or thought about mom's passing, the scattering of the ashes or other moments much, either to myself or anyone else on any deep level. I have talked about it generally though. I have this uncanny ability to talk about tragic things in my life as if I am a reporter, removed from the emotional attachments of the situation, and just talking as a matter-of-fact. I can tell people what event happened, what I observed, and am generally pretty open about sharing; I just present it as if I were reading an assessment and citing some fact pattern. I've always been able to do that, a "skill" of mine that, in the past, has been criticized and misunderstood by my sister and the rest of my family. I rarely cry in front of people, even in front of my husband. I think this is partly because I was always more mature than my peers and was always the one my friends go to for help and advice. My sister also doesn't cry, but to herself, and only rarely. Then again, she's a true introvert and the kind of person who bottles everything up and doesn't let people see the little box of emotions she carries with her under lock and key. I'm actually very very surprised that she blogs some of her very deep thoughts. Well, everyone is different and copes differently. This will likely be the first and last post of this nature for me.
About 2 weeks after mom passed, as she requested, we scattered her half of her ashes in an wooded area in central Texas on a property owned by aBuddhist association. Then in June, I drove up to San Franciso and then went to Big Sur with my sister and friend Sherri to scatter the rest of mom's ashes. She had requested that we scatter the last half of her ashes in California, perferably halfway between my sister and me, nearby giant sequoia or redwood trees. Scattering the last half of mom's ashes was somewhat relieving and did give me some sense of closure, but the journey there was rather tumultous -- I was very level headed and tried to remain jovial and positive, but obviously my sister was experiencing her own emotions and needless to say, we got on each others' nerves, with poor Sherri in the car too. Oh well, a short post run amuck...I only intended to write a brief post and put up the pictures, as a the last unfinished task. Here they are:
Above: Scattering her ashes. To the right and below of where the tree sits is a stream. I know mom would be happy with the quite and peaceful spot we chose for her.
L: My sister next to the twin redwood where mom's ashes rest. R: We tried to lighten the event and got a little playful in a natural tree hollow.
Labels: misc babble
posted by CraftyDiversions at
11:59 PM
1 Comments:
*big hug*
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