Tag: good grief

March 13

by Karen, posted in family, good grief
Family of heart shaped rocks from Ireland

My mother’s birthday is was March 13; she would have been 71 this year. I wasn’t going to write a post about her because I just published one a couple of weeks ago, but here we are. The day started off as many do, with a quick look at Facebook to see if anything was going on.

So, the first thing I saw was something posted by Jeannine entitled: A letter from Mom and Dad (dad died years ago on 3/15). I mean, are you kidding me? So I watched it, and cried. Off to a good start.

Next, another FB post, this time by my sister-in-law, where she describes the boiled dinner she is making today…Andrea mentions that she makes it the way her mother-in-law, my mother, did. Sniffle.

Then we went to my friend Susan’s house. She had recently been to Ireland and brought my daughter and me back some presents. Mine included a “family” of heart-shaped rocks. More tears.

After a bit, I pulled myself together and we chatted for a while, then we gathered around the laptop so that Susan could show us pictures of Ireland that she took during her trip. I reminded my daughter that we were half Irish, so she should be especially interested in viewing these pictures of the country. “I didn’t know you were Irish!” my friend said. Well, it’s no wonder, since I’m usually going on about my Italian heritage. My mother, however, was Irish.  I told Susan, “As a matter of fact, it’s her birthday today.” As we sat and watched Susan’s wonderful pictures of and stories about the places she had been (I nearly started crying again), I suddenly thought, “Okay, Ma, so you’re showing me that you’re here today, making sure that we remember you on your birthday! We do!”

And we did. Surrounded by love. Solid as a (heart-shaped) rock. 🙂

(Gee, maybe turning those clocks ahead really wreaked some havoc with my equilibrium!)

“You are my sunshine” (Grieving my dead relatives, continued)

by Karen, posted in family, good grief, health
Mary

So, it’s that time of year again; when the anniversary of the day a relative died rolls around and you try to remember without being too sad.

This is my mother. At the time this picture was taken, she was a sister, a daughter. At the time this picture was taken, she was not yet a wife, a mother.

She was graduating from high school then, and her life was ahead of her. Too soon, it was over.

My husband took me for a ride a few days after she died with no particular destination in mind. We ended up at a local market with an attached greenhouse. As I walked around the store clutching my Kleenex, I was drawn to some colorful plants that my husband told me were primroses. For a moment, I actually felt happy looking at the little faces of the flowers, so on impulse I purchased one. I took it home and placed it on the little shelf above my kitchen sink.

Every time I looked at it, I remembered my mother’s death with a pang that was then tempered with a little bit of calm. In the spring, my husband planted it in the back yard.

Each year that followed, I brought home another little primrose plant and in the spring we planted it outside. Over time, all of these plants thrived and soon, without specifically intending to do so, I’d created an entire garden of  primroses, which became sort of a tribute to my mother. I was very sad to leave it behind when we moved.

This year when I was browsing at Trader Joe’s I spotted some primroses which (of course) immediately evoked thoughts of my mother, so I bought one. This spring I intend to plant it in my kitchen herb garden to revive my mother’s tribute garden from years past.

I chose yellow for the first plant because when I was growing up, she bought me an outfit that I refused to wear: yellow pants and a yellow shirt. “Who wears that color pants?” I complained. She ended up returning the outfit which I wouldn’t  have been caught dead wearing. Years later though, I recall this incident and wonder, “Why couldn’t I just wear it? Give her what she wanted?”

It’s ironic that yellow is now my favorite color.

Also, “You Are My Sunshine” was a song she loved and sang to us frequently when we were kids.

She died on leap day, February 29. We joked afterward that she chose that day purposely, so we would only have to feel sad about the day she died once every years. She was nice like that. 🙂

Gratitude

by Karen, posted in family, good grief, Holidays, Midlife Crisis
Simple Abundance Journal

I’ve been keeping a gratitude journal this year. A long time ago, I read Simple Abundance by Sarah Ban Breathnach and decided to give the “keeping the journal all year” thing a shot. 

It was an easy enough premise: write down at least three things that you are grateful for each day. That’s it. It starts off fairly easily, but as the days, weeks, and months go on, it can get more difficult. I did it though, and completed the journal on December 31, 1998.

A few years ago, I found another one of these hardcover Simple Abundance Gratitude Journals at a yard sale for a buck; I bought it.  It had one or two entries in it, but I figured that I’d just wite them out and write over them. I brought it home, put the journal away, then promptly forgot all about it.

Fast forward to December 2010: I found both that journal, and the one I kept in 1998. I decided to start the journal January 1, 2010, and I have kept it up all year. Periodically, if things were especially happy (or alternately, tough) for me in 2010, I would look back to 1998 to see how I was doing on that day twelve years ago. There were lots of ups and downs in 1998: I was expecting my second child, and my father died from cancer that year. It was difficult to read some of the entries. Turns out that the emotions may be different, but feel every bit as strong all these years later as they did back then when it happened.

Today, I was thinking that things hadn’t been going that well for the past few days, and it was looking like 2010 was not going to end on a high note. After I finished my journal entry, I decided to look back to see what I had written on this day last year. One line stood right out: “I am grateful for my life.”

It’s as true today as it was twelve years ago when I wrote it. Thank you, past self, for reminding me of this tonight, when I needed it so much.

A child’s “firsts”

by Karen, posted in family, good grief

I had my first child when I was 29 years old. I started back to school and back to work when he was 8 weeks old. As a full-time student and working mother, I missed a lot of my child’s “firsts”.

Certainly, I knew it was going to be a trade-off; get better educated to get better employed and to be able to give said child a better life. I reminded myself of this often; like, when my mother called excitedly to describe my son’s first time saying “Mama”, or when my or mother-in-law called to tell me how my son lost his first tooth…you know, little things like that.

Well, my son turned 19 last month. Of course, we get used to our kids not sharing with us every detail of their lives as the get older like they do (how could they avoid it?) when they are very young.

Recently, my son took his first airplane ride (well, almost his first. He did go up in a small plane with his dad and sister many years ago…but I don’t count that. Plus, there was a parent present). For this plane ride, he was with a friend, and without parent. I guess it was sort of like the first day of kindergarten (or college, for that matter); the child adapts in 5 minutes to new people and new surroundings; the parent? Not so much.

He was good about it. He offered to call every day while away on his trip, and then remembered to actually do it. We parents tried to do our part by being supportive but not stifling. It was hard. It is hard… to go to sleep at night when your whole family is not home, safe in bed. “Hello, Dad? I finally get it.”

How do you deal with your child(ren) growing up?

Signs (from the dead relatives)

by Karen, posted in family, good grief, tweens

Ever wrestle with a decision, wondering what is the right thing to do in any situation? Sometimes when that happens to me, I’ll think, “What would my mother or father do?” or “What would Nana think about this?”.

Well, the other day I was going back on forth about something, then made my decision and spent hours second- guessing myself. After a while, I thought, “I did what my mother would have done”; what she did in fact do many times during my life. I also thought of how generous and giving my grandmother was (both of them, actually, but on this day I was thinking of my dad’s mother) to me whenever I needed it, throughout my life, when I deserved it, and (often) when I didn’t.

Then I tried to stop thinking about it. A moment later, I got an email that included a recipe for my favorite soup that my grandmother used to make for me (escarole soup with little meatballs)…Nana giving her approval?  A bit later on, I opened up the American Profile magazine that came with the Portland Press Herald that day and there (0n page 12) was an article entitled “Pride for Popeye“…here’s where I admit that my father used to call me that as a nickname when I was in kindergarten. Now I’m thinking, “Two signs! This is clearly Dad saying, ‘Good job!'”

And then, that night I dreamed about my mother. She was in my house, visiting. I kept thinking, “I didn’t know my mother was going to be home today!”…

I had to laugh to myself when I woke up. The dead relatives showed up big time to show their support for me yesterday and I’m so happy that they did.

grieving my dead relatives, part 3

by Karen, posted in good grief, italian

my paternal grandmother’s birthday is today. her name was originally ‘maria’, anglicized to ‘mary’  (as so many were so many others) when she arrived here from italy around 1924 (http://www.ellisisland.org/). she died at the age of 93, about 6 years ago. she had sort of reconciled herself to the reality of her cognitive decline, as evidenced by her selling her house and moving in with my brother’s family a couple of years prior. he made her a little apartment in the basement of his home, with a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen area, and living room. that day, she got up in the early morning as she always did, made her cup of instant coffee in the microwave, sat down at her little kitchen table, and died. my brother heard her fall and ran down to help, but it was obvious that she was already well on her way to see God, so he just held her there on his lap on the floor until she passed. isn’t that the best way to die, while living your life?

grieving my dead relatives, part 2

by Karen, posted in good grief

march 15 was the anniversary of the day my father died and joined my mother.  had he not been addicted to cigarettes, alcohol, and gambling in his 20’s,  he’d have been 72 years old. instead, he’s been in that great rehab in the sky (i hope…) for 12 long years. as i have often done since he died, i had a fried clam dinner in his honor, because for me, the inherited addiction gene has (in my post twenties life) been expressing itself  in relation to food (as in “it’s all about the food”). (is this wrong??). why fried clams? well, for one thing, unlike my opinion of my mother’s food favorites (see prior blog post entitled “grieving my dead relatives, part 1) which i mostly deplored, i shared a love for many of my father’s favorite foods: coffee, black  (the beverage, NOT the jello), almost any kind of doughnut,  liver, lumberjack breakfasts, lamb chops, hot fudge sundaes, all things chocolate…all good things. the other reason is that fried clams were on the plate for his Last Supper. after days of existing mostly on air and water (the lung tumor had the upper hand by this point and the dying process was well underway), he suddenly sat up in the hospice hospital bed in the living room and said, “i want a fried clam dinner!” which my brother promptly procured and which he really did sit up and eat, every last bite. then, he went to sleep and never woke up, dying about a day and a half later. so, some years i just buy a box of fried clams and eat it myself, no fanfare…kind of an eating meditative prayer. this year i invited my husband to join me and we went to the Maine Diner (http://www.mainediner.com/). we muddied the tradition up a bit; we ordered buffalo chicken fingers for dessert, a food that my father never had, to the best of my knowledge. (was that wrong??)

what do you thing about observing the anniversary of a parent’s “deathday”?

grieving my dead relatives, part 1

by Karen, posted in good grief

necco wafers, tootsie rolls, pepper and egg sandwiches, chipped beef on toast, coffee jello, split pea soup, hermit cookies… what do these foods have in common?  well, for  one thing, they are all foods that i don’t like much. also, they were some of my mother favorites  (i’m sure there is something very freudian in that admission). Her birthday was march 13, and if she hadn’t been dead since 1996, she’d have turned 70. do your loved ones that have died live on in your memory in the context of food, as do mine?  well-known grief expert elizabeth kubler-ross states that “Mourning can go on for years and years. It doesn’t end after a year:  that’s a false fantasy.” how much more pleasant are the memories when viewed through the lens of one’s own (or her own!) preferred foods? i say: much more!

here’s elizabeth kubler-ross’ website: http://www.ekrfoundation.org/