The Day

My mother told me a story of her delirium. She was being taken for an MRI possible the one before they decided to do emergency surgery. She thought she was in the kitchen and the "cooks" aka anesthesiologist tried to get her to sign a consent form. Of course this was highly upsetting. But what amazed me was that she was with it enough to understand to ask for her brother, her power of attorney, to take over.

I remember the calls that night. Just like the night my father died. I was on the phone with my brother when my uncle began calling my brother so we hung up. He quickly called me back and said that she was going into surgery "NOW". What can you think about those moments? I had no other information, I didn't know why. I was freaking out. What else to do but call my aunt who's also my godmother. There was a lot of sighing. And I was hemming and hawing about whether to get on a plane. I so desperately wanted to be there. Not just because my mother was in critical condition but because I'd promised my father I would do this for him and he left before I could care for him. I missed the opportunity. My aunt called me back after speaking with my uncle and told me he recommended that I get on a plane tomorrow. All that was going through my head was shit, shit, shit... okay, okay, okay. I called my uncle, who is by the way one of the top neurologists in the country, he explained the situation and told me "You are going to want to be there when she wakes up." To me that told me that even my uncle, a topnotch doctor was scared she might not even make it through surgery. Luckily, she made it through better than expected. And for me when your uncle the top notch doc tells you to get on a plane you do. I called my brother and told him I was on my way. The relief in his voice was so real, he began crying. It was such an emotional time and all I could feel was the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The lack of sleep from days of worrying and not understanding what was wrong. When I landed it was not much better the next few days were flooded with family and family friends. Though I was grateful to speak to them it was utterly exhausting. And now I sit wondering where do we go from here? Perhaps it's a silly a question. But I've been stuck in crisis and stepping out of my crisis manager is no easy task. My answer from here I go live my life. I build a stronger bond with my mother and I own that I did the right thing.

Golden Thread

Most days I struggle with the idea of why I am here amongst the mountains. What is the reason for such hardship? And I catch myself feeling a bit dramatic. On the other side it always feels less scary than when you are sitting in the hospital room holding your mothers hand wondering if she even realizes you are there. Only to discover later that she doesn’t remember it at all. Was it important for you to be there? Did it really even matter? I remember my brother saying to me well what’s the point she probably won’t even remember that you were there. The experience I can’t describe the numbness that traveled through me like a virus when I saw her blank stare, her ability to only mutter “hi”. And it wasn’t even clear if she knew who I was. It was too painful to feel in the moment. It was so surreal that I don’t have any words to describe it. I’d been itching for DAYS to get on a plane. But I couldn’t comprehend how bad things were. My brother kept telling “she’s fine she’s just in a lot of pain”. In the aftermath, she wasn’t fine. And I can’t get this detail out of my head… she almost died. And I had everyone telling me it would be fine. What would have happened if I had not called my aunt who then called my uncle who is my mom’s power of attorney? I don’t want to think about it. But I can feel the trauma of losing my father has overshadowed my experience of crisis. Yes naturally this is where I run too. I fear everyone and anyone could drop off in a second. And I don’t expect anyone to understand my fear. I don’t expect anyone to understand what is like to stand vigil by your mother’s side not understanding what you can possible do for her. I gave her water in those first two days. That was about all I could do. I asked questions. I took care of her the best way I knew how. I know it was enough. But these are the unspoken, unseen pictures of my life. The things that will forever be held close to my heart. The things that I do not know how to vulnerably share with anyone else. And I am coming to the conclusion they are not really meant for anyone else. Bathing my mother in the shower is for me and her alone. The details are for us alone. But what are the feelings? The rawness of feeling that I was being abandoned once again. The feelings that these are the things people don’t want to hear about, don’t want to sit with. I saw friends run the same experience I had when my father died. I saw people run back into their lives as I sit seeped in crisis. But you know, there a lesson here for me. It is okay. It is a deep lesson of remembering at the end of the day we are all we have and that is precious. And the most beautiful gift I can give myself in these states of crisis is not necessarily calling anyone but sharing the deep, vulnerable, raw feelings with myself and owning them.

For in these times of loss. There are no words, there are no real comforts. I find myself turning to food to mend my broken heart. But it only takes it further from me. I find that though I feel the earth beneath me and the sky above me. I am alone. I find that this is something society and people are frightened of. And yet I feel as though I am being beckoned to surrender into the void. The void filled with fear, uncertainty, grief, loss, and so much more. In there I will find myself. I will not find elsewhere, I will not find it on a friend’s shoulder, it’s in the void with the emotions I fear that I will find my true golden thread. The one I have been searching for.

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.