Note: this is an excerpt from An Ordinary Death: Where Grief and Relief Hold Hands, available from Amazon.com. Yesterday, I emailed on a friend of mine whose mother had a stroke similar to my mother’s and who is also in hospice care, being wonderfully watched over. She wrote back with “and how are YOU doing?” Not well. As I write that, I’m not sure what “well” is. Maybe I’m just fine, but my “fineness” means living deep in sadness, again... Read more
Note: this is an excerpt from An Ordinary Death: Where Grief and Relief Hold Hands, available from Amazon.com. I began going through my mother’s correspondence yesterday: three crates full of copies of letters she had written and some that had been written to her. It is dawning on me that my mother may have been what is called “hypergraphic.” It looks like she may have daily documented every detail of her life. She handwrote pages and pages and pages each... Read more
Note: this is an excerpt from An Ordinary Death: Where Grief and Relief Hold Hands, available from Amazon.com. Is it better just not to know? To live in ignorance of basic facts? To naively let others make decisions for you? As I continue to let the surprisingly paralyzing grief of my mother’s death work its way through my soul, I sit and wait and read and think and pray. I also ponder the latest religious scandal to hit the news:... Read more
I am simply shocked at my current state. After the memorial service for my mother on Friday, a friend from high school came up to greet me. I was touched at his willingness to spend time attending this service, and to be there, as he put it, simply to support me. He asked, “How ARE you doing?” And I quickly said truth: “Not well at all.” I am not doing well, whatever well is. I spent some time with my... Read more
We’ll be leaving for the memorial service for my mother shortly. It’s a warm, gray, rainy, humid day, guaranteed to make my hair frizz and get out of control. Sigh–teen angst never really fully leaves, does it? I did sleep some last night, but continually have dreams of my mother. Not bad ones–she’s clearly at peace. Just dreams. Dreams of her as a young woman, dreams of her dreams. I continue to be shocked at how numb I am and... Read more
Note: this is an excerpt from An Ordinary Death: Where Grief and Relief Hold Hands, available from Amazon.com. I woke this morning thinking perhaps I could get at least a few hours of catch-up work done, but still have not managed to get going other than washing my hair. At least it was something. But, to give myself some credit, I have opened the mail, read email, and enjoyed the sweet cards and messages made for me by the children... Read more
Note: this is an excerpt from An Ordinary Death: Where Grief and Relief Hold Hands, available from Amazon.com. I feel the fatigue today. Darkness of soul settles around me. The slightest movement seems more than I can manage. Simple decisions morph into complex challenges. I’m irritable, restless, and starting to get concerned about the amount of work I’ve just left behind for the time being. In other words, I’m normal. This is what happens in the wake of loss. I... Read more
Yesterday, it fell to me to meet with the pastor of Mother’s church and plan the memorial service which will be this Friday at 1:00 p.m. at East Dallas Christian Church in Dallas. Although Keith and I have already buried three of our parents, for the other three times, we ourselves conducted the memorial services. But for this one, the two of us will be family, not clergy. It felt odd. Normally, I’m the one asking, taking notes, learning more... Read more
Mother has been gone about 20 hours now. I would have liked to have slept about 19 of those twenty, but that has not been my privilege yet. My body and brain are wired–a combination of grief, relief, questions and an exhaustion that won’t yet permit sleep. So, since I can’t sleep, I may as well write. The question racing through my brain right now: What would I have done differently if I had known then what I know now?... Read more
Last night, at 9:50 p.m., my mother joined the great cloud of witnesses. My siblings and I had my parents around until we were pretty well advanced in years. Yet, we felt this sense of uncovering as we said our final good-byes. We are now the oldest ones. There is no one left to parent us, to offer that particular kind of loving, knowing wisdom. We should now be the purveyors of wisdom. We should be the ones who have something of... Read more
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