Absence

My thoughts are always so jumbled that it's not usually a lack of things I want to write about that keeps me from posting more often; it's too many things jumping around like a non-stop stream of consciousness.

I recently read Elizabeth Edwards' book Resilience.  It was a gift from my stepfather this past Christmas, and seems a bit of foreshadowing now, in light of her strong focus on the death of her son in a car accident.  John gave it to me with a note saying he thought of it for me because of my own resilience in the face of some significant challenges.  I only hope that I can continue to live up to that description, which I don't really feel worthy of in the first place.

One of the passages that really moved me was one in which she talks about the terrible adjustment after her son's death... "What I had to face was not something present, it was something absent.  And although we can escape something's presence, there is no way to escape its absence.  There was no place to go where he would not also be absent."  Wow.  In many ways, I know I have been trying to escape mom's overwhelming absence.  Because she was a victim, there is a lot of time to search for facts, to focus on fault, details, outcomes, etc.  It's very painful to deal with the concept of an accident, something avoidable, something that "shouldn't" have happened, as opposed to a medical issue, a breakdown of her health or something.  I know somewhere deep down I have had this silly idea that if I could "prove" a chain of events, if I knew everything, I could somehow take it back, make it not have happened.  Coming to terms with her absence is really, really tough.

I keep waiting for a "sign" - a little bird, a whisper, a nudge, a dream where she hugs me and tells me that she is okay, and it just doesn't come.  It makes me feel that she is so very gone and I hate it.  In fact, the only dreams I've had that my mom's friend and I think might be mom's doing are those in which I drink and something horrible happens - which I've had several times.  Mom was so vested in my sobriety and would know that this would provide a severe test, so maybe she sends me these to remind me of the dire consequences of relapse.  If so, thank you mom, but enough with the overkill!  You're freaking me out!

This weekend we will visit the Lake that my mom loved so well.  We have decades of beautiful memories there with her, though I honestly cannot remember the last time she actually got IN the lake.  She liked to curl up with a good book, make homemade ice cream, and just spend time laughing with her family.  There was always so much laughter.  It was wonderful to see her relationship with her parents, still with us and still happy after all these years.  I know that we would have had the same with her and it's a physical ache in my chest to know it's not a part of future now.

I bought a pot of her favorite flowers the other day - the periwinkle colored Hydrangeas - and they rest in the beautiful area of our family room that is filled with her things and her photos.  I love you Mom, so very, very much.   You cannot imagine how much you are missed.

The questions that have no answers

I haven't posted in a while.  Sometimes I have nothing to say and other times I have too much to say.  Unfortunately I have two settings, off and overdrive.  I'm working on finding medium.

Things have been racing through the brain, especially at night.  I think about a time in our lives when mom and I were on our best ground when living together- I think it was probably when we lived in our house on Erie in Cincinnati.  She had just divorced and I was a senior at Purcell.  I just loved that time.  I don't want to forget anything - like at Skyline: mom ordered 4-way onion, whereas I'm a 4-way bean gal.  For all intents and purposes, my mom was a single parent to my sister and me for the majority of our lives and having the girls' only house was really, really great.  I walk through the rooms of that house in my mind now, and more and more details come back.  I find myself asking why human emotion is so unbalanced - at least for me.  Joy, peace, happiness - they come in moments, in hours, and if I'm really lucky - days.  Depression, sadness, grief - they come in weeks, months, seasons.

I haven't been writing about the events in Houston for several reasons.  For those who are wondering, the case is still being completed on the investigation.  I can only say that I'm very glad I don't drive the streets of Houston.  Working within this vast, disjointed system has convinced me that some serious work needs to be done on the oversight of commercial drivers, the vehicles they operate, and the companies that put them on our highways.  When the time is right, I'll have more to say about that and might even decide to talk to some lawmakers in the great state of Texas.  People deserve to be safe on our nation's roads.  

Someone told me shortly after this happened that I would be surprised by the people who suddenly disappeared from my life and by those who suddenly stepped in and became a source of comfort and support.  True and true.  I know that I am a downer.  I understand people don't know what to say.  For some, I think it scares them, or maybe even gives them a sense of luck, of relief - if it happens to our family, it's not happening to theirs.  I used to feel that way about plane crashes - if there was one close to a time when I was going to be traveling, then OBVIOUSLY my plane would be just FINE!

Speaking of plane crashes, my mother once had a serious fear of flying, which she overcame to a remarkable extent.  She was able to fall asleep on planes prior to takeoff in her recent years.  My mom was SUCH a strong woman, such a survivor, and always able to find a positive in a bad situation.  I too was afraid and still have moments of nervousness.  Recently I had a dream that I was on a plane that was going down.  I've had those before, but always land safely, or wake up.  This time I dreamt through impact - we were diving straight into the ground and I was thinking "please don't hurt" - then we hit and it was instantly a blinding flash of white light.  I'm not sure what it indicates.  I also dream of being lost.  Of mom calling me or me phoning her but not being able to find each other.  I so want a dream where she wraps her arms around me and tells me everything is okay, but so far it's not happened.  Some of the dreams are so frightening and even gruesome that I can't share them here.  At any rate, it's tiring to have my day filled with sadness or longing and my nights filled with bad dreams.

My saving graces are family and friends - the things that matter in life.  My children continue to make me smile and have hope.  Lydia called Dave "Pa" last night - we are reading Little House in the Big Woods.  What a little ham.  Soccer games, Girl Scouts, movies - every time we do something like this together, it makes me believe just a little bit more that life can go on, even though it looks different now.  I have a few friends who call me, again and again, despite knowing I don't have a lot of sunshine to spread and I love them with all my heart for their persistence and belief in my resilience.

The sun shines in my neck of the woods this morning.  I'm trying to love my life as best I can.  And I am missing my mother through it all.  Peace.