Walking in the Forest Alone

I sit wondering how my words will flow onto this page. There is so much inside me, I can feel myself running from it. There is sadness, fear, anger, hatred, grief, and feelings I don’t even have names for. I sit engaged with what is easy. Studying for another certification exam. But I notice myself indulging in food and tv shows that have no real meaning to my internal world. Its as if I just cannot face it. The fact that my mother almost died and my father is died. That in this experience I am alone and yet I know I am not alone. I know there are thousands maybe millions who are facing similar circumstances. And yet it doesn’t matter how many times I speak to someone it doesn’t take away the pain, the anguish I feel inside. Of losing one parent so suddenly it rips the very center of your being out from under you. It proves every negative belief I’ve ever had about people true. And I am tired of that being true. I am tired of being right, because in actuality I am not right. People live their own lives, they get absorbed in their own lives, and it difficult to reach out to those experience a crisis. Though we want to we’ve all experienced the pull. But how do I react differently? How do I respond in an empowering way to crisis? What if the lesson of this crisis and tragedy is that truly at the end of the day we only have ourselves. It doesn’t matter how much hurt or love we have towards others if we cannot give the love and forgiveness to ourselves. I am scared to sit in this seat. Especially, without my father. He was my rock, the one place I knew I could receive support and guidance. And now where do I get them from. I try to pull it out of other people, but they aren’t my dad. And I see that I must dig inside, I must dig inside myself and find the wisdom and guidance I crave. In essence I must walk alone. Though knowing myself I cannot walk alone without sharing about the experience. I want people to know how I feel, I want people to know what I see, and how I see it.

Tonight I leave with an image of my mother and I laugh crying about all the crazy things she was saying. And taking a breath and acknowledging how deeply scary it was for me when she was not lucid and how scary it was for her to realize she has lost five days of her life. That though it is not important to drill into her that these doctors saved her life. For me it’s an important realization for me to make. Through the laughter I can see my avoidance. I am avoiding the fact that my mother almost died, that I almost became parentless. Though I may be an adult I feel like a child in the regard that it feels too young to loose both of them. And I tell myself you didn’t loose her. And though I fear loosing her there is something deeper. That I fear people won’t understand. I remember hearing a friend telling while this was happening “You’re mother will be fine. She’s not going to die, she will one day but not now.” The anger that rips through me is huge. You do not know. That’s just it you don’t know when a loved one will be gone. And the likelihood that my mother would have died from this is quite high. And though I am grateful I am also scared. I am feeding the fear with food. I can feel it. The same grief surrounding my father surrounds me now. Envelops me and I turn my back. Because it feels so scary to face this alone. But I see no other way through the forest. Perhaps there is some gray area I am missing. But I look around and see surviving parents of all my friends. And truthfully I do not want to be told that you understand my pain, my experience, or how I feel. I don’t even want you to imagine it. Because I am angry that you still have a father, I am angry that you offers yours up on a silver platter, I am angry that yours left you early in life so you don’t know the pain of my love, I am angry because I am too young. I am ashamed of my anger. I hide it. My body shows it. More shame I wish I could have my athletic body back. And yet I am realizing that these truths are what will eventually set me free. The truth there is a portion of this that must be faced alone. And there is a portion of this that must be released and I must trust that someone will catch it. Someone will hold it sacred in their heart as I cry, scream, and release all that binds me. That there are deep learning pieces around surrender, acceptance, and forgiveness. And I am the only person who can allow myself those pieces.

The Slide Show of Crisis

At the age of 30 I have already experienced the tragic death of one parent and the serious illness of the other. It's a bit a surreal, like there's no way this could be happening to me, to us. We've already been through so much and it's so early. Both parents hit the crisis marker at age 59. And my brother and I only in our late 20s to early 30s. So young to be dealing with such crisis in our lives. And yet here we are. Here we are struggling through the confusion, the fear, and the practical details the best we can. Calling everyone and their mother to tell them how our mother is fairing. And yet the pictures that run through my head is miraculous. I would have never thought in a million years the small moments amongst the moment of crisis. The other day I was sitting in the hospital wondering what would a slide show look like. If I were to return home what pictures of this adventure would I share with my friends. These are the images that come to mind.

When I arrived last week on the panic flight I took the day following my mothers massive risky surgery to remove a staph infection from her spine. I arrived anxious to see the woman I love dearly, but had been unable to take phone calls since she was not very responsive or aware of the world. I walked into a room sterile and white. I took in the walls, tables, and chairs until my eyes could fall onto the woman whom I recognized but was not there. I saw my mothers body wounded, wrapped in wires from every angle. Her eyes vacant but able to recognize and only mutter a hello. She was clearly there in body but not in mind or spirit. It's a scary moment when you see the woman who gave birth to you barely there. As we stood to leave for why stay. She asked us "who is going to stay". I slowly replied that "we must both go". She replied, quite seriously, "you are going to leave me with these people". I was shocked, to the point I almost broke in the biggest hilarious laughter. In her delerious state she was parniod, not herself and it was so hard to hear, to watch, and keep the containment on my laughter, my stress that was begging to be released. Next my brother and I sat down quietly. He whispered softly "wait for my signal". I did, once we heard her snoring we quietly left. As soon as we were in the hallway we lost it. It had been the most stressful four days and neither of us had the capacity to contain the ridiculousness of her comment or the stress that was bottled up.

When she started to come out of it. She asked when I had arrived, I said two days ago. The look of shock in her eyes was palpable. You could feel it. As my brother and I stood on each side of her bed. She held our hands and simply said "my children". She was still too out of it to express more. But is there more to say. Is there more to express than that. She had all she needed. This moment reminds that sometimes that is the crux and I don't need to explain further. Though I want to, everyday I want to tell her how much I am willing to do for her, how scared I was, and how frightened I still am. How I am struggling for balance... but does my mother need to know this. No she doesn't. She only needs to see my brother and I standing strong by her side. There is nothing more to be done.

 A few days after being here. I unpacked my altar items and discovered my father's ashes had come along. I did not pack them. My father choose to be here with us. He showed me once again that indeed he watches over all us. Even if we can't see or feel him, he is there.

She was home for a few days when she began having close falling episodes when she returned from getting her IV antibiotics. It got worse a few days ago. We came home and she got ahead of me I couldn't get her the walker in front of her, she quickly said I need the chair NOW. So I grabbed it but she was going down. You could see it happening in slow motion, as if on autopilot I grabbed the chair and her hips at the same time and pulled her to safety. I got her seated just as I did so she was so lightheaded she almost fell forward straight out of the chair. I grabbed her and said "I've got you, I'm not letting go." The moment itself is hard to describe in words, in fact it's one of those moments in life that is so intimate and scary all the same time. It reminds just how much I love my mother. No matter how much anger I've had over the years in that moment all of it dissolved into helping her. Into doing what is right.

Though this is only a snap shot. It my way of understanding, it is my way of sharing, it is my way of being vulnerable with the world, without having to send this out to anyone in particular. But reaching out a hand. Life is not easy, balance is not easy, but there is a lesson in this family crisis. I get to give something to my mother I never had the chance to give to my father. It is at the end of the day a blessing.

Birthdays

The spiral of grief hits you like a eighteen wheeler truck. There is no way to avoid it. You can pretend it's not there. You can pretend that your birthday does not exist that indeed your loss itself does not exist. But it will not leave. It is permanently a part of just as your genes are. It feels almost as if we should give up, we should through up our hands in the eyes of grief and claim our defeat. Claim our aching hearts, I desperate need for that one phone call. I turn 30 tomorrow only about 7 hours until the hour I was born 30 years ago. Only 7 hours until the moment in time 30 years ago when my father held me for the first time. The first human contact outside of a doctors. How can I not be sad? How can it not rip my heart to pieces all over again? How Am I suppose to find joy in a day that represents his sudden immediate departure from my life?

Dad, pops what would you say to me tomorrow? I'm your baby girl and yet I'm at the age 30. Almost have my bachelors degree. I have struggled and fought my way through life only to lose you in the end. My cheer coach. You always knew what to say, even though it probably annoyed you that I was so sensitive and emotional. But it didn't matter you loved me fully and completely. What is the use? I feel like throwing my hands up. The spiral of losing you takes me down. Nothing else matters but the pain inside my heart. The pain that causes me to feel utterly alone with no one to turn to. Who could understand at my age what it means to lose a parent? And would you want me to be happy in this moment or would you want to feel? All i can hear is "if you can't do anything about it, don't worry" I'm not worrying pops I'm grieving the loss of you.

I googled birthdays and loss of father. What did it tell me? No miracle cure that's for sure. But that it renews our loss. I think there is a specific connection, a much stronger to my birthday than yours dad, because it is the day of my birth. It is the day that your genes and mom's genes came to full fruition. I was born, I was given life, I was given hope, and I was taught to live by two wonderful people. And now we are not together in the physical sense. Tomorrow I will look for you in the wind, I listen carefully for your laugh, I will see you in the butterflies, in the clouds, the trees, and all that mother earth has to offer. I know you will visit and you will whisper something like "now who's old" or some bad joke about me being over the hill, even though I'm not. Only to you I would be. You would laugh, try in your out tune voice to sing happy birthday, maybe you and mom would do it together, and I would listen to it later and laugh. It is killing that this will not happen. Perhaps one day we'll travel back to a middle world like in Harry Potter. Maybe I'll have my wish granted. Just one more conversation. It is so hard to know how final life is. Hold me tomorrow Dad. Find someway to send a birthday blessing. I miss you more than anything right now.

Spiraling Back Again

I can see the dark impeding cloud
Just out of the corner of my eye.
It's footprint begging to step upon my heart
AGAIN.
It's that time, I remember.
It's his birthday soon.
I feel it, I feel him looking over my shoulder.
The wound opens in the slightest way.
I'm still too dead inside to know what the pain really feels like.
I keep walking but I see the cloud.
I see the reminder of the TRUTH. 
I'm back at the beginning, I remember this seat. 

Our Mad World

I wonder what mad world we live in. What provokes each of us to believe what we believe? How long will we defend our position without listening to any other perspective? Some of us will defend it until our death beds. As I look carefully through the layers that exploded out of the ground this holiday. I wonder if some of us are too stuck in our ways to even merely communicate. I wonder if some of us are too different to hear one another. But as human beings we love naturally we crave connection. However, it's messy. So so messy. At times I'm unsure of what to think. Am I just behind the curve because it certainly feels as though you are trying to explain that world to me. That is not what I would like. But there is no way to express this without upset, without you feeling like you cannot be yourself. So to keep some peace I shut down and by default I no longer can be myself. Where is the middle ground? Where is the love? When you lose someone so suddenly it feels as though a hole has been ripped through the fabric of your life. There is no real way to mend it. All the old wounds that stood beneath the covers prior to your death are now devastatingly clear. It hurts knowing that being with family is the hardest task of all now. Not because we don't love each other but because we all hurt and have a difficult time communicating without you lighting the way. It's like trying to untangle a Giant's knot. There is just no simple answer. When I look into the mirror everything feels too big, too much. And wonder how will I make it through the forest unscathed. My answer is that I won't. But I will survive I haven't yet figured out how you survive this. But if I know anything about myself it is that I'm a survivor. I will find a way. In this moment the way is of confusion, mess, and delusion. I feel as if looking into the mirror only provides absolute confusion and illusion. Nothing feels quite like a breakthrough because I feel as though my strength and fire have plummeted into the earth. I'm looking in unexpected places to find them again. My calm resolve has dissolved. And I'm left with an aching pain in my heart wishing beyond hope that my father will give me a sign. Knowing if I could just drop back into who I am I'd feel him standing right next me. But even on the ski slope I found my attention elsewhere. Until my attention because centered around him, which really means around who I am without my father I will not feel his presence. It's a sad state that I find myself in. However, for those reading this wondering how grief works. Well I don't think anyone will ever know. It's unique. Some people can reach beyond themselves others stuff there emotions and explode/implode. I sit wondering how the universe will guide me to victory.

The Holidays

The holidays now contain a whole new meaning. A meaning I'm not sure I'd like to grasp. A meaning that almost escapes me. It is dread, despair, loneliness. It is no longer a meaning of joy and happiness. I'd like to blackout the holidays. Create a non-existing experience. Go do something else. It's darkest before the dawn. And I sit wondering where my reality begins and where it ends. I float into feelings and float out because they are just too painful. I'm not entirely sure I want to. I'm not entirely sure how to make sense of your death. It eats at me. It create a chaos I'm not sure how to approach. Journaling seems so impossible. So I write to the internet world knowing only a few actually may read my words. Are the words worth writing? Yes this as close as I get to feeling, expressing my truth. I sit looking remember the events of the last few days. Watching my friend cry for me and the anguish that created in my own psyche. Shouldn't I be crying for my loss? For all the synchronicity? And yet I've built a rock wall I only take down in private, because without my father life is so... difficult. Then there's today's story of a friend calling with an odd surprise. Do you want Owl wings? And I didn't hesitate of course I do! The wisdom emanating from above my bed reminding me to fly! Yes spirit you are there in the most amazing ways. And I sit crying wondering if this is the first gift from the universe during these holidays. For some nights it feels so dark I wonder if I will rise come daylight. If I'll barricade myself ignoring all that life is blessing me with. When it is darkest before the dawn I seem to be missing out on my life. This weekend a four almost five year old taught me that. Children can remind us what is important. And yet though I know I missing out on my life. I also feel as though I am grieving I miss my father. Esp. right now. And all I can do is hope I do not break. This all I want for Christmas is a healed heart.   

I Feel

This is I feel post. For it seems everything has built up to a point of no return. I feel angry. This a constant complaint, but really why shouldn't I be my father was taken away. All I want to say to people who complain about there's is at least you have one. All I want to say is if you hate your's so much give mine back! And all of this boils down to feeling irritated that my roommate cannot clean the stove, she makes me up talking on her phone, she left town while her pumpkin rotted to the nth degree.  And yeah it annoys me because it's disrespectful. And then I find it funny because she's thinks she's so very consciousness. Well that's being human right we see ourselves one way and the world perceives in a different light. Nothing wrong with that. What is wrong is how I feel inside? How I feel like dealing with people is unbelievably difficult. It's why I don't call. It's why it takes everything to have any fun at all. Because it feels easier to mourn alone. There are no human dynamics other than my own. Not that I can deal with those easier but it's simpler. I sit wondering how it is that I manage to be Dean's List student with close to a 4.0 each semester and yet my life is falling apart. I wonder if people notice. I wonder if I notice. Because sometimes I think it's all too much and I'm writing a dangerous edge and something is going have to give. I sit scared wondering how in the world I will make it through.
In group this week a woman turned to me and said wow that must have been horrible to have your dad die three days before xmas. You have no idea. I have no idea. Because I cannot go there. I don't want to imagine it. It's the same with a good friend of mine, "I don't even want to imagine it" yeah I know neither do i! But the problem is I have to live it. I have to face it. I have to go through it. No one, no one can do it for me. No one can scream for me. No one can really be there for me. And I think because of that I've just stopped calling. I've just decided it's easier if I stop trying to explain how I feel because it's too exhausting and yet somewhere I'll need. And it won't matter if they understand. It won't matter if they see me, if they hear me, but somewhere I need to stop floating.

Dad
Lost, Confused, and Frightened.
I see the glowing moon.
Reminding me your not far.
Giving hope to the broken hearted.
The trauma fades to the background
As I face the world.
One day at a time
One breath at a time.
For there is nothing worse than remembering.
And there is nothing better than remembering.
So I do both in order to face today.