orleans
orleans's Journali'm glad you kept her recipes and have such nice memories of her cooking
the last number of years i was with my mom i did all of the cooking. so it's not so much her cooking i miss as it is her company, her laugh, her conversations with me, her silly phraseology (like the word "spaghett"
; just the general physicality of her being here.
i miss *her*
the essence of *her*
and sometimes that longing sneaks up on me when i least expect it
sometimes i feel it is there, repressed, and lingering in the background
but it always seems to find a way to surface (sooner if not later)
lately it hits me when i'm in the grocery store and pass near the card & floral section. there are all these st. patrick's day cards, balloons, shamrocks -- and (not that st. paddy's day was so all important to us because it wasn't) -- but it reminds me of so much of the fun we would have anticipating, decorating, party planning, surprising, getting to celebrate any holiday--just for the fun of it. (from when i was little, and all through my life and with my daughter--my mom was such an integral part of the joy in my life.) (don't get me wrong--we had our ups and downs and arguments and fights. but we were always genuine with each other. but overall, we were both happy as hell to have each other in our lives.)
and seeing this celebratory stuff in the store just gets to me, you know? i start tearing up. i have to move quickly past it, around it, through it. because i miss that joy--that any little reason to celebrate and have fun, that happiness. it's gone.
it's just been really hard finding that sense of joy again. so far i've been very unsuccessful. and i miss it so badly.
how wonderful it feels to think "i have a wonderful life"
i just want to tell you that if i hadn't been at the receiving end of some pretty unique experiences i'd be completely skeptical of anything other than the "when you're dead you're dead" mindset.
and without launching into my laundry list of examples and experiences i will say with certainty that there is life after this life
(i also believe that the life we are currently in is not the first incarnation we have had, and that we travel in soul groups, plan incarnations, decide on the relationships and roles we will have with each other, and what lessons we can help teach & learn from one another, as well as the joy and happiness we can share)
and, i believe, it is love that keeps us connected to those who have moved on before us; our love for them and their love for us. i believe they either stay with us or move around us or visit every now and then because of their love for us.
"we are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience." --pierre teilhard de chardin
you said "i know this love can't go on forever" -- i think you're mistaken.
your situation / circumstances will alter with time as you grow older (changes in a job, housing, health, physicality, etc.) but love is the one thing that *can* go on forever.
and it does.
of course, i don't expect you will drop all skepticism and suddenly believe what i'm telling you. (but you'll find out--eventually)
check out "through the wormhole; season two"
disc one: is there life after death?
you could probably order it through your library
it looks interesting.
http://www.amazon.com/Through-Wormhole-Morgan-Freeman-Season/dp/B005F0TH2C/ref=sr_1_5?s=movies-tv&ie=UTF8&qid=1393734666&sr=1-5&keywords=through+the+wormhole
thanks peggy
i guess my emotions found me/caught up to me tonight as i reached in the cupboard for a box of angel hair pasta.
i've been trying to dodge them ever since but it appears that there is no where to hide from them tonight. maybe i haven't been giving them enough attention lately and that would explain why they are being so pesty and demanding, following me around, sneaking up on me, jumping out at me when i least expect it--causing me to actually "gasp" before they actually hit me full on.
i had some work i thought i wanted to get done tonight. maybe i really didn't want to get it done tonight after all.
sometimes it's the simple things
no one can take the pain away
and it comes and goes and ebbs and flows
it sneaks up on you when you think you’re doing alright and then you say out loud, (to yourself of course): let’s make some spaghett.
“spaghett” -- a phrase not belonging to you
a phrase spoken by the one whom you just can’t seem to get over
a phrase you would give anything to hear them speak again
not even a phrase
but a word. a single fucking word.
and upon realization of that--your world tumbles, crumbles apart around you once again.
and through the tears and refreshed trauma
you think: i hope this spaghetti dinner is worth it--worth all the emotional turmoil it’s putting me through
and you’re no longer hungry--don’t feel like eating a damn thing.
and the drink you make doesn’t kill the pain fast enough, doesn’t numb the heart quick enough,
doesn’t stop the thought process nearly enough.
god, you miss them so much.
and you know you’ll eat the spaghetti anyway. might as well. look at all you’ve gone through just to make it.
whoever would have thought making spaghetti could be so heart-wrenchingly difficult?
you knew. there was never a doubt in your mind.
when my dad died (25 years ago!) i had the a similar experience
and i remember i was also driving. everything seemed so surreal--the day was still happening, the beautiful clouds (which he often noticed and mentioned) were in the sky, the cars and traffic out on the road, the stop lights still worked, the world was turning just like everything was so normal. and in my world nothing was normal.
in my world everything had changed and altered. and it was surreal because the outside world seemed unaware and completely unaffected. and how could that possibly be?
when my mom died i was so aware of that experience i had with my dad that i watched & waited to feel it once again. but i didn't. not sure why. maybe because after experiencing it once i was too aware of that mind trick/sensation? maybe because i had already been shown that "life goes on" for the rest of the world even when my world tumbles down. i don't know.
i know her death hit me a lot harder. i had her to lean on when i lost my dad. she was my rock and my strength. her and i were always a lot closer. and we were together 20 years more.
"Life Goes On"
"If I should go before the rest of you
Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone
Nor when I'm gone speak in a Sunday voice
But be the usual selves that I have known.
Weep, if you must,
Parting is hell,
But life goes on,
So sing as well."
--Joyce Grenfell (english actress, comedienne. from her books "hats off" and "joyce and ginnie; the letters of joyce grenfell and virginia graham" --both collections put together and edited by janie hampton, published posthumously.)
i recently ran across this in a book of memorial poetry.
(it has become glaringly obvious that life does, in fact, go on. for better or worse. i'm still working on that singing part)
i used to have one of mattel's beatnik "scooba doo" dolls with the dark hair
she had a pull string and could talk.
said stuff like "i dig that crazy beat...yeah!"
she would scat which was pretty cool. they show her in this video but the voice box is playing a little too fast.
oh no! glad charlie's okay
i used to have three little dogs, all female (two lhasas & a carin terrier) and wheew! sometimes they'd get into these wicked fights over nothing ("she's looking at me again" --just perceived insults. it was crazy sometimes. all of a sudden two would tango and the third one would get all excited and jump in.
during several of their fights i remember picking up one and the second one would be hanging onto the first, and the third would be hanging onto the second. i'd have a string of dogs dangling in the air.
no one ever got hurt so bad they needed to go to the vet. but their fights sounded terrible and vicious. those three girls had some really great growls and grrrs.
wishing you some comfort in this time of loss
on top of everything else-all the emotions, all the grief we experience, all the technical crap we weigh through, we are thrown into a position where we basically have to re-learn how to live without someone.
and when it is someone we have had in our life for our *entire* life it can be devastatingly difficult
so often it's the little things that are so hard:
the momentary thought of giving her a call
or going home and looking forward to seeing/talking to her
or seeing something in a store ("mom will really like this"
or "i've got to tell her/ask her..."
i've been struggling through this for over four years and it has been the worst part of my life.
i still talk to her (yes, out loud), and feel that she is often near me. sometimes i "hear" (in my mind) her words or her response. i ask for "signs" to let me know she is still close and have gotten quite a few. while it does reassure me that she is not "completely" gone, it is a far cry from the existence we once had. and there have been hundreds of times when my mantra has been: i want to go back, i want to go back.
it's a different type of relationship that has been established and i would much prefer our old one to this one. but i'll take what i can. our spirit doesn't die, and neither does love. and it is because of the strength of love that allows us to continue across dimensions. it's a difficult adjustment for those of us left on this side of the divide. but what else can we do?
take care. you are not alone.
my heart goes out to you. i simply can not imagine what it must be like to
go through losing both parents just days apart. i am so sorry you are going through this.
i know there is nothing i can say to make it better. but i will tell you when my dad passed (years ago) his church offered bereavement counseling to the families. my mom wouldn't go but i went. it was maybe 8 weeks (once or twice a week--i forget) and it seemed to really help me cope with his death.
i'm coming up on four years & four months since i lost my mom and it is still terribly difficult for me trying to adjust to my life without her physical presence.
i found the bereavement group here on du and check in there practically every day. it has been a comfort to me through this time/period.
http://www.democraticunderground.com/?com=forum&id=1234
"Grief is the internal part of loss, how we feel. The internal work of grief is a process, a journey. It does not end on a certain day or date. It is as individual as each of us. Grief is real because loss is real. Each grief has its own imprint, as distinctive and as unique as the person we lost. The pain of loss is so intense, so heartbreaking, because in loving we deeply connect with another human being, and grief is the reflection of the connection that has been lost."
http://grief.com/
wishing you love and comfort in the days ahead.
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