Tooth #3 for JC.
Oh no, my first ‘known’ mommy lie!
I declare, I am not dead.
I am not gone from your life forever.
I have merely gone underground.
Spiritually, God has me close.
I am in a Holy Space.
Emotionally, I am fragile, weak and have the gift to cry easily.
I am tender-hearted.
Physically, I take care of my body with intention, allowing myself to heal and feel.
I am hurting all over.
Give me your grace for my indecision, my confusion.
My mind is numb.
A fog hovers around me.
I can’t ‘work it out’.
I must just be.
“Despite all appearances…nature is not dead in winter-it has gone underground to renew itself and prepare for spring. Winter is a time when we are admonished, and even inclined, to do the same for ourselves.”
– Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak
It is not coincidence for me, as you know, that I receive multiple things from different people on the same day.
Yesterday it was poetry.
First, a friend sent me a poem she had read at her grandmother’s celebration of life on the weekend. Then I received a poem from Steve’s amazing Aunt M.
Here’s the first one:
by Margaret Widdemer (1884-1978)
She always leaned to watch for us,
Anxious if we were late,
In winter by the window,
In summer by the gate.
And though we mocked her tenderly,
Who had such foolish care,
The long way home would seem more safe
Because she waited there.
Her thoughts were all so full of us,
She never could forget!
And so I think that where she is
She must be watching yet.
Waiting till we come home to her,
Anxious if we are late,
Watching from Heaven’s window,
Leaning on Heaven’s gate.
Thanks you two for thinking of me and for loving me with words. Xoxo
Here’s the conversation we had when two year old OC told me he wanted to call Papa and then Nana on the telephone. Papa was up cross country skiing, so I knew he was out of cell range. My dear, ever-present mom died on Boxing Day.
Sweet child working out his sadness of why he can’t call his Nana. These are his very own words.
I was Surprised!
I was humbled!
I am amazed!
Why do I blog?
I don’t blog to get on Oprah’s network or to become ‘known’.
I don’t blog because I want people to like me or have people get to know me.
I don’t blog so that I can achieve any type of recognition or medal.
Ah ha, this is why I blog.
I blog to be completely present with my family, to be with my boys, physically and mentally, as they are growing.
I blog to watch in awe as my Sexy Neck father’s our boys.
I blog because I have a teacher’s heart. I love teaching by showing others what I am learning.
I blog because I love to write. I love playing with words, thinking about synonyms and metaphors and oh I love editing. Getting rid of words, making new ideas, rewriting whole paragraphs.
I blog because sometimes the topics I think of can’t be said. And I think about a vast array of subjects. Blogging gives me the privilege of sharing what’s in my head.
I blog because I am head over heels in love with God/Jesus/Holy Spirit. His presence in my life in unexpected ways is something that I want to share. I want to see His light shine in this often dark world.
Recently, I blogged to support my mom’s cancer journey and reach out to those around the world who love us. (How much love did we receive? My views went from twenty– which I was very happy with– to over 800 views per day!)
Now, I blog to stay afloat in grief.
To stay real.
To do my painful work.
To see God at work and to stay connected to my people
I blog to just be where I am and to Be Enough to my family and friends.
Why do you blog or why would you like to blog? I am curious.
I exist in a world I never knew nor imagined.
I wait for my mom to walk through door and say, “Hi Joanna!”
I wonder how did she die and really what the hell happened.
I think about snowflakes, butterflies and my mom’s final smile.
I walk away from my old ways, my old complaints, the things that no longer serve me.
I hide from sympathy. I hide from shallow words and frivolous complaints.
I sit still and rest. Feeling my body for the first time in many months.
I watch, I look for some sort of sign. A sign from heaven.
I hover, waiting to see what unfolds.
I know I will be okay today and that is enough!
Have you pondered empathy and what it really means?
I have heard lessons and even taught lessons on empathy and sympathy but have never lived it in the marrow of my bones.
Sympathy to me is a hollow pit. Empty. A fleeing neighbour. A mom who says, “Sorry for your loss!” then pushes on to talk about her son’s birthday party. Sympathy is lots of flowery words that flutter away.
Empathy to me is warm and surrounding. An indescribable action that sticks to your bones and holds you up in grief. An acquaintance who says nothing when I tell her about my mom, but just stands in tears. Friends who ask me how I am and listen for the answer no matter how I rattle on.
As I grieve, and ponder, I am grateful to share my counsellor’s new website and blog. Can you guess what she wrote about today? Empathy and Sympathy.
Exactly my struggle.
Exactly what makes me want to hide.
Expert words to help me continue to row my boat of grief.
Thank you to each person who is helping me row this boat 24 days after mom’s death and five months after my world was turned upside down from cancer.
Here it is: Jodi Krahn
Have you seen or heard him?
The big boys and I put on our best duds and headed downtown to the community theatre this afternoon.
Normally I wouldn’t do these kind of things because at $36 each for an hour, I feel a tad wild.
But with the months we’ve lived through and knowing you can’t take your money when you die, I avoided special treats for weeks and off we went.
Raffi came on the stage (sans besrd) and lit it up. He started with our favourite friendship song (that we sing with the Sharpe’s, check out the family here.)
He sang all of our favourites, we sang along too!
Lots of smiles.
Joyful noises too!