Grief and Love

I read this in Desert News online today:

"Grief is love's shadow. If you are going to love, you have to put up with grief sooner or later, but grief intensifies love. Grief drives love into the deeper parts of your soul and being." S.Michael Wilcox

Amen, Bro. Wilcox!

A friend of mine has joined you

A friend of mine, Wiremu Peeni, joined you in Heaven last week. I knew him in High School & met him again for the first time since then when I came to Salt Lake for your surgery, two years ago. I had SUCH a crush on him in school but he never knew. Thought I was a terrible snob because of that darn shyness I passed on to you. We sang in the choir together and shared the stage in a couple of school musicals. He went on to become a music teacher in Alaska, then moved to Salt Lake a few years back. He was living in St. George when he died, trying to save the money to go home to Aotearoa. If you meet him, give him my love. He was a Very Good Man, indeed. Wish I could be there; it's getting to be a fun place!

Another week away from you

I don't know what to write anymore. That makes me sad. Perhaps there are no more words, just feelings. Perhaps I'm healing. Mostly I'm just living, trying to find sufficient joy in life on earth to warrant a place at your side when it is done. Can't wait to meet your baby nephew/niece. Go by and warn him/her about us, will you? :-)

Mummy

Rain and Sunshine

Couldn't help thinking of you last night as an amazing ray of sunlight shone through the light, refreshing rain shower falling around our house. Is your leaving a burst of sunshine or a drowning, drenching rain? Rain for us; sunshine for you; coping with both requires a balance I don't always find, but this photo reminds me that one brings beauty to the other, whichever way we feel.

I love you beyond words, worlds or eternities.

Mother's Day

Yesterday was another Mother's Day. Not so hard as last year, just after losing you, and also not so hard as the years spent away from you and your siblings living so far from me when you were young, but still a little hard. I heard from everyone but you, and felt your large, warm presence a little throughout the day. We went out through Sisters, past the Subway store you worked at so proudly, and out to Suttle Lake, where you, Livvie & I had been together a few times. Scott & I built a fire by the lake and sat reading aloud together. Then we came back through Sisters & splurged on dinner at a restaurant we hadn't tried before. It was delicious, but I didn't go anywhere near the Habanero sauce you would have guzzled down; I'm not THAT brave ;-)

Hope you're busy being happy & happy being busy. Think of us all; we need your prayers so much more than you need ours, now.

A quiet spot for you

It's a beautiful, modest spot by the back fence of an old cemetery in the Mill Creek area of Salt Lake. You're right where you like to be, on the edge, observing. I actually thought my grief was over today but then we went downtown to a festival for Cinco de Mayo and got into the crowd. Remember how I said last year I don't like crowds anymore? For some reason that's when I feel the most alone; the most vulnerable, as though the people around me should know what I'm feeling! Now I miss you all over again. It's become a familiar, almost comforting ache. It's good to know you're still close enough to touch.

Further & Further away from you

'Rissa is right; we are moving further away from that dreadful day. That ought to feel good, but it doesn't. I so desperately want to hold onto you and I feel I can only do that through pain. It's that "selfish" thing again (see my first post). I think it made me feel important, being there with you to help you bravely soldier on.

"Bunkum!" You were right to object to us "taking over your illness" as you once stated. We're just hangers-on left with only a bright star of memory to cling to; and cling we will, whenever we feel you slipping away from our immediate memories. You gave us a rallying cry of togetherness that is slowly drifting back to normalcy. After you left I determined to call your siblings every week, and I did for a while. Now I try to remember they have lives & don't need to hear from me so much.

That's why I had stopped calling you every Sunday; then you were gone. Now it's been a year and I think I'm supposed to move on.

I don't WANT to!

The first anniversary of your leaving

I slept in, today. I'll be thinking of you constantly but not particularly sorrowfully, perhaps because other cares have intruded - life actually DOESN'T stop for our personal tragedies - but mostly because I'm choosing to feel numb, like I did a year ago. I'm in Washington at Larissa's home, but I had planned to be in Salt Lake, putting a fresh pile of snapdragons on your still unmarked grave. I'll be walking/sitting there in my mind today. I'm sure Livvie will come by. We know you're not there, but we're still physical beings and places matter to us. Most likely I will feel your large, warm presence from time to time throughout the day.

It was bright and sunny here yesterday, but today it is cloudy and grey, just like last year. I'm not sitting beside you, holding your hand, trying to figure out how to fix this hurt and knowing I cannot. A sweet young couple came by to offer the Sacrament to us and it was wonderful to share that sacred time with you, even though you couldn't partake. You had no need of purification, ritual or otherwise, by then. I still expected you to be around a while longer, especially when the hospice coordinator came by to discuss moving you the next day, but it wasn't what you wanted. The last thing I asked you was, "Are you bored, son?" and you whispered, "Yes!" I knew then that you would need to go. We ADHD types simply can't do NOTHING, that would be a living hell, and you needed no part of it.

So we let you go. We have our own journeys to complete. May they pass swiftly.

Today is my sister Janet's 65th birthday. Poor girl, she barely gets a thought from me this weekend as I prepare for the 1st anniversary of my son's death. I did call her, briefly, and wish her Happy. Tomorrow I may try to write more, but for now if you want to follow along, click on George's older sister's blog. She has captured the journey down and the time at the hospital perfectly. If you can't find the link, it's www.snapdragons4george.blogspot.com