A few words about Grief...

I have received so much support and words of compassion through this time following the death of my mother. This loss is so unexpectedly monumental for me. While I knew it was coming, in fact so intuitive that it would happen very soon, I still, three weeks later feel like I have been taken out at the knees. I was having my nails done yesterday and fell apart. I can only imagine they were saying "the poor lady with fat toes crying" in Vietnamese while they continued to gouge my cuticles. Wow. So completely unexpected.

I am so incredibly fortunate to have a bank of long term leave from which to draw my pay so I am moving through this time completely financed by the very job that I am so afraid of returning to...Fear of having someone "need" me or place demands on my time is terrifying. My sojourns out of my apartment have consisted of going to my brother's house, sorting through my mother's things, and aimless errands to the grocery. The trip to the nail salon was just a test to see if I could get through something without falling apart...failed.

My mother's ashes sit on my table in my living room and the thought of giving them to the military cemetery for burial makes me frantic. It was my job to take care of my mother and while I know that job is ended, it is with a sense of irrational protection that I feel I must keep her together in my care. Other family members desire some of her ashes and I am unable to part with even one flake. They will have to wait until I am ready. I still have my dog that was cremated 17 years ago in a hatbox on my nightstand. That is kind of creepy, however during this time of grieving, I am not judging one single feeling or thought and I assume no responsibility for my actions. Additionally I reserve the right to change my mind with the breeze. I have been able to move my mother's ashes around my apartment and they no longer sit where I can easily pat her on the way in or out. I've not yet placed her on the couch to watch Jeopardy, although the thought did occur to me. Again, I am not judging any thought that passes through my consciousness, but even I can realize that one is a little far out. I've moved her to a spot that requires a specific trip to touch the curve of her container and must I raise my voice if I'm leaving the apartment to say goodbye. When I finally move her into a closet, I will know it is time. But the container is beautiful and suits my decorating style...perhaps I could fill the black plastic box in which she was delivered to me with sand and the cemetery will never know the difference as they slip it into the 4x5x8 inch hole they so lovingly dug. As for other family members who desire some of her ashes I was thinking I could just burn something else and place those ashes in those little remembrance urns that cost somewhere in the ridiculous neighborhood of around $300 each, but I'm afraid they will peek under the hood as it were. I have been so adamant in my desire to keep her I think they all believe that they won't be getting the real thing anyway.

My grief partner is moving on...my brother is going back to work today. Not that I am divulging his career, but it might be in your best interest to stay out of the Denver area for the next month or so. Just sayin'. He believes it is time to step back into his life. I do, too, I am just afraid of what my life looks like without my mother in it. What if I have a bad day? Who do I call? Where will I be getting my free advice? I'm sure there is a help line out there for motherless daughters or if not I'll start one. There are so many women my age that have lost their mothers and when I randomly blurt out "my mother just died" to strangers in the elevators who are just minding their own business and when I get on are uttering the obligatory "how are you?", burst into tears when they hear my news and tell me I will never get over losing my mother. One woman who started crying told me her mother had been dead for 15 years and when she got out of the elevator, sobbing, frankly I was pretty freaked out. Really? 15 years? Not that it is all about me, but I was seriously disturbed by the fact that I could be that woman.

So the clock keeps on ticking, everyone is returning to work, picking up their lives and moving on. Yet I still feel like I'm frozen in time. I picked up a piece of fruit in the grocery store for my mother and it was nearly in the basket before I realized she probably wouldn't be needing it. I wonder just how long it takes before I stop reaching instinctively for the phone, or picking up something that reminds me I need to get one for my mother.

Yesterday I was running some errands, doing a little retail therapy. I tried to avoid looking at the department where my mother would always hold something up and ask if I thought it made her look like an old lady, but it was impossible not to glance over and look for her face to let her know I was checking out. Perhaps I am. If only temporarily. I've gone from losing my mother just yesterday, to losing her last week, and now it has been three weeks and it still feels so fresh and raw. Soon, it will be "I lost my mother recently" then before I can turn around twice, I will be the lady in the elevator telling some poor woman that it has been 15 years and she will never get over the loss of her mother. Yikes.

I am immensely happy I had my mother for as long as I did, with not one single portion of unfinished business. I knew where she stood as did she know about me in our lives. But frankly, this part is really painful and right now I just want my mommy to stroke me on the head and tell me everything is going to be alright. Perhaps that part comes later...Today the only message I have for you is that I love my body more than depriving myself of my grief. It is mine and I will let go when I'm ready...

XO,
Karen