A new year...

Happy (?) New Year!


David is back to work.  He is working at .... Thrivent - again. Luckily he hadn't unpacked his boxes yet so it was an easy move.  He even got the same phone number back.  We took a last minute trip to Washington D.C. after Christmas.  I think I'll do a longer post about that later.  


The worst part of losing mom is of course the fact that she isn't here.  She made life more interesting.  Truly, the world is flatter without her in it.  My head, my heart, are always near bursting with thoughts of her, memories of her and a sickening feeling when I think of the words "never" or "dead" or "over."  It's crazy-making sometimes and the how and why of it all has been maddening.  I don't know if my experience with this loss would help anyone else, but I do need to sort it out a little more and let it go (the accident itself) so if reading it makes anyone else feel less alone, then that's just a bonus.


I've had to give up on the idea of going to the Grief Support Group on Thursdays because of conflicts with 3rd grade choir, swim team, piano, and life in general.  I occasionally try to look through my books and pamphlets.  I constantly rifle through the images in my head.  Every day, I relive to some extent March 3rd itself, probably some kind of PTSD thing.  My mom is as large as she has been, will always be.


Grief part one...the News


One of my books said that sometimes when a person gets the news of an unexpected death, it is normal to yell at or hit the person delivering the news.  I remember hearing some weird stories of things people I know have done.  


Here is what happened to me.  Maybe if I write about it, I can stop thinking about it.


We were at my sister's in Salt Lake City.  David, the girls and I were at the house and Kelsey and the boys were at the bank.  I was packing groceries for our drive over to the house we rented in Snowbasin after looking up directions online.  I thought, "mom is going to have a terrible time finding this place tomorrow."  She was flying in the next day and would drive straight from the airport to the house.  The directions were crazy difficult and I was thinking we'd better get a move on so we wouldn't have to navigate in the dark.


It was 2:42 Mountain Time (I checked David's cell phone later; for some reason numbers became kind of an obsession).  I'd finished the pantry - granola, fruit snacks, cookies, etc. and remembered to shut the door because Deso, the world's best dog but most devious stealer of people food, would wreak havoc if I didn't.  I had my head in the refrigerator when David's cell phone rang.  For months, when I heard that ring, it would take me back.  He had a weird ring tone then.  I assumed it was work calling him; they often did around that time of day.  The market had been closed for almost 45 minutes, just a normal check in.


I heard David say hi, but not to whom and then he went into my niece's room and closed the door.  Well that was weird, and work had been stressful, so of COURSE I walked right over and listened.  He said, "oh my God."  I opened the door and walked in.  He held up his hand to me.  Several "okays" and "ummhmms" followed.  My first thought: something had happened to someone he worked with.  Or a family member of someone he worked with.  He hung up and I asked, "what?!"  in that way we do when something has happened, but not to us, to someone else - almost anticipatory, not dreading; I am ashamed to admit that.  He just looked at me.  He looked literally pained. My brain slipped a notch at that point, and I made this mental leap that it hadn't been Mike at work, but Mike our neighbor (this really made no sense because I never heard him say "Mike" at all) and that it was closer to home than I thought.  I asked again, "what?" and he continued to stare at me.  I said, "Tell me!  Say it!  What!" and steeled myself for the news that either Tasha - our friend, babysitter and house sitter - had been in an accident (and he looked so awful she must have died) or maybe, better, our house had burned down.  At the last second, I think I knew, it was worse even than that, and I stepped backward away from him.  He said, "your mom died in a car accident this morning."


It was immediate.  I know they say that you go into denial or shock or something, but for me, that was the truest, most pure acceptance in this whole thing.  The brain hasn't had time to create its defenses yet.  I immediately said, "Get away from me!" - but I didn't shout it.  It was this weird, strangled voice, like I didn't have air.  I ran.  Straight to the front door.  I slipped on my shoes (Dansko patterned clogs) and ran out the front door.  I wasn't crying but I was gasping.  My plan: run up to 700 East (about 3 blocks) to collect myself before talking to the kids.  My sister's porch has steps that go down to a small landing where you can either jump down 18 inches or so to the grass or turn right, go down a few more steps, and end up on the driveway.  I jumped.  I fell.  And I'm not sure what happened because I didn't get back up.  David was right behind me though and was in the grass immediately where I was curled up, like in yoga's Child Position, but with my hands laced over the back of my head, and I screamed, once, like a damn banshee.  Then I started to say, "it can't be true" and I couldn't stop saying it.  By then I was crying, hyperventilating and really, I had no control.  At all.  Which of course was when my sister pulled up with her son and mine.


She saw that something was completely amiss and later said she thought I'd had some kind of complete breakdown, that it looked like I was throwing grass at David.  Maybe we were playing some weird game of tag?  That's the kind of thing your mind does when you see something that makes zero sense.   She told the boys to GET INSIDE and David had to break the news all over again.  


Of course, it wasn't work on the phone.  It was my stepfather.  He couldn't, couldn't, COULDN'T call Kelsey or me and say those words directly to us.  Poor David.  Poor everyone.  So shocked we didn't even think to ask what the HELL had happened, that came a short time later.  


That's about all I can do in one sitting.  


But there is this:  the joy and the continuance her grandchildren bring to life...
This morning I was driving Owen to school and I told him it was supposed to get colder today.  He asked, "any chance of precipitation?"  We've had the worst winter (if you like winter) with NO snow, warm temperatures... yuck.  I told him that they were expecting from 1/2 inch to 3 inches of snow and he said, "an inch of snow is like winning $1.00 in the lottery..."  and I laughed and told him I might use that on Facebook.  He said, "well it's actually from Calvin and Hobbes.  Calvin said ten cents though so I adjusted because they were like in the 19-somethings..."  I love that kid.  My mom adored the stories of the things her grandkids did or said.  I can hear her laugh in my head.  She had a great, unrestrained laugh that just burst out of her.  I have it on videotape.  Maybe that should be my ringtone.