Does It Show?

I would like to thank everyone for their loving support, kindness, and compassion after the death of my beloved mother, Anne, on January 30, 2010. Mom passed away quietly, with my brother David and his wife, by her side. She finally succumbed to the effects of her stroke back in May, and the pulmonary fibrosis that ended her life too soon for us. This is one of my favorite pictures of Mom, and one of hers, as well. She was 28 years younger than her mother, and I am 28 years younger than Mom. To say we favor one another is an understatement, though I was never as beautiful as my mother is in this photo, that's for sure. Even still, Mom's outward beauty was nothing compared to her inner beauty, the loving graciousness with which she lived her life; the welcome she gave to one and all; the lessons she taught us about how to treat others, regardless of race, religion, creed, or sexual orientation; the day-to-day considerations in the home, like how to make biscuits, even giving me a little bottle cap to make my own when I was a small child "helping" Mom in the kitchen; a tremendous love for animals that she embodied, a gene for it, really, which I carry in me, as well; and a thirst for knowledge, evidenced by my mother's avid reading. I could go on, but I think you get the idea.

And honestly, I am not as prepared to write this as I thought. That is to say, it is even harder to write about Mom now, two weeks later, than I thought it would be.

So, that is why I have been away from the blog. And I have been away from home, too, to my hometown, then to Aruba, with my partner and one of my best friends, on a long-ago planned trip, and what turned out to be a well-timed trip. We had time to help plan the funeral (Thursday, the 18th), meet with the funeral home as a family, pick out the urn, the flowers, meet with the priest to plan the funeral, all of that, before we left. The trip enabled me to be away from the usual daily duties and truly reflect on my mom, her life, what she means to me as well as others, and to erect three Remembrance rock piles around Aruba in her honor, joining others who have gone before her. While having the time to reflect, and grieve, in a beautiful country, surrounded by gorgeous waters, was a blessing, it did not minimize the times I was struck with the force of this loss. Nothing could prevent that, of course, as that is the way of such a loss.

I know that many, many others have experienced what I am going through now, and recall a woman I knew years ago, who reflected on her own experience of losing her mother. She recounted the story of having to go buy a new pair of shoes for the funeral, and wondering, as people were around her, fellow customers and salesclerks alike, if they could tell, if it showed, that she was in tremendous grief and pain. This came up for me often (and will again, I am sure, when I have to go shopping for a new suit this weekend) as I went out, from the meeting for the funeral preparation, or out to dinner, or to the airport, people not knowing, not realizing, how much pain I was in, or the overwhelming sadness I was experiencing, my partner, too, for Mom was like a mother to her, and to so many others...

It is a sad commentary on our culture that we no longer display the traditional signs of mourning. We no longer wear all black, or rend a piece of our clothing, so others can see at a glance that we are hurting, grieving, and need to be treated gently, and with kindness. Even the priest who will be performing the funeral greeted us with a cheery, "Hey, how's everyone doing today?" Well, um, we just lost our mother and are here to plan her funeral - how do you THINK we are doing today? How is it that we have so distanced ourselves from what is a fact of our very humanity, that we will, each one of us, leave this earth?

And then there is the push to just move on, get past it, get on with our lives that seems to happen. I noticed it when I lost my father 4 1/2 years ago, and my uncle, who lost his wife to cancer (though she was about 25 years his junior) remarked on it, that people think one should just move on, stop dwelling, and get over it already.

Well, I believe that shortchanging ourselves on the process upfront will just come back to haunt us down the road (not in a ghost haunting kind of way, but emotional baggage kind of way). We need to be able to grieve our loss, to mourn, to have the space to just cry, and feel our loss, before "moving on," at least that's what I think.

All of that is to say, I am not quite ready yet to come back to write my usual political posts - I am still too raw, still not ready to engage in that kind of banter. There will be time enough for that soon enough, though I imagine it will be after my mother's funeral next week.

In the meantime, thank you all again so very, very much for your support and love during this difficult, painful time. It means more to me than I can possibly say.