Tag Archives: Father

Time is…

Posted on by
1

Time is many things. How you perceive it and define it change depending upon a myriad of factors: mood, circumstance, age, etc. There are those who tell you, “Time is an illusion”. Now, I get that on a metaphysical level, where indeed in the big proverbial scheme of things like eternity, time is unquantifiable. But, here in our earthbound existence, our lives are defined by time. You wake up at a certain time to catch the train to get you to work by 9 A.M. You set the timer on the oven for 30-40 minutes so the soufflé you made will be cooked properly.

Why am I going on about time? Well, today marks six months since Mom died and just like my father’s passing 31 years ago, my perception of that time is mixed. This was my first entry about her death. On the one hand, it feels fresh like it just happened today, while on the other hand, it feels like this new reality without her physical presence is not new at all. There are days when I’m doing well and making great progress on the “stuff” of death: closing accounts, opening new ones, paying bills. Time is my friend on these days. Then there are the days when I look around at all the clutter that still hasn’t been given away, sold, or otherwise discarded, the paperwork that still needs to be completed, and the memorial Mass that still needs to be scheduled and held for her, and I feel like time is my enemy.

I’m reading a book that I’ve been meaning to get to for years: The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. I’m about halfway through it, and while the concepts discussed aren’t new to me, I’m finding more of a resonance right now. The importance of living in the present is one such concept. Hey, I’ve read Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now, and didn’t the Buddha say, “Be where you are; otherwise you will miss your life”? Having a present-moment focus isn’t revelatory to me.

What is new is my desire to embrace the present moment. For far too long, life “right now” was the last place I wanted to be. The present moment was full of 24/7, 365-day “fight or flight” when it came to Mom and her health. I’d much rather remember the “good old days” before macular degeneration, mystery bleeds, and congestive heart failure. Or I’d dream of some distant future when I’d be doing creative work I loved and traveling. Neither living in the past nor the future was satisfying but they were better than the present.

I just came across these lines in The Alchemist and the profundity of its simplicity shifted something within me:

The secret is here in the present. If you pay attention to the present, you can improve upon it. And, if you improve upon the present, what comes later will also be better.

Here’s to a mindful present for us all.

via GIPHY

The Last “First”

Posted on by
1

It’s five months today since Mom passed. Time does go faster the older you get. As I mentioned in last month’s post, I decided not to attend family Christmas gatherings this year. It was difficult not being around people, or decorating the house or watching all the Christmas movies, or buying gifts for, or opening gifts from, Mom. But, I got through it.

I kept reminding myself of a strategy I came up with when my father died. It’s called “The Last First”. So, the premise is, for each occasion that comes up during the first year after someone passes, tell yourself that it’s the last “first”. This “first” can be anything: a birthday, Christmas, anniversary, etc. Every “first” is truly the “last”. The next birthday, or Christmas, or anniversary will be different every year going forward. It may still be challenging, but it will never be as challenging as the “first” was. This mindset got my mother and I through 1991-1992 and I’m counting on it getting me through 2021-2022.  

Despite all the uncertainties of life personally and on a global scale, I choose to feel optimistic about 2022. After all I’ve been through over the last five months and the last four years, I know that I can handle anything that arises. And so can you. Happy New Year.

Christmas Mourning

Posted on by
3

Is there a difference between grieving and mourning? Instinctively, I believe there is, but defining what the difference is can be challenging. I’ve read some articles and nothing has really clarified the distinction completely for me. So, I’m left with figuring it out for myself. Through my experience of the deaths of both of my parents, the feelings of loss change due to a variety of factors. The main factor is time. When a loss first occurs, this is when I believe grief enters the picture. There’s shock and sadness and all of those intense, immediate emotions. Grief is the initial pain of the wound of the loss. It hurts, it bleeds and when knocked again, the wound can re-open and bleed some more.

Time heals and seals the wound but sometimes a scar is left from the wound. The scar is the reminder of that loss. It may not pain you in the same way but the scar reminds you that the loss is still there. This reminder of what you lost and how your life has changed is when you enter mourning.

This switch to mourning hit me while buying a couple Christmas cards the other day. As my eyes scanned the shelves, they landed on the “Mother” section. I realized in an instant that never again would I buy my mother a Christmas card. That ritual was over. I always took a lot of time picking out just the right card that said just the perfect thing for Mom. It meant a lot to me and to her.

When I got home, I was still reeling from the card revelation, only to have more. I had already made the decision to not decorate this year. Christmas is my favorite holiday, but I just couldn’t face seeing a lifetime of ornaments and decorations and not having Mom here to enjoy them.

Then the reality about Christmas hit me. Not only will I never buy Mom a card again, but I’ll never buy stocking stuffers or presents for her either. Since it was always just Mom, Dad, and me, we always liked lots of things to open. Small things went into the stockings like lip balm, hand lotion, Emory boards, or licorice gum. (That was for Dad.) And every item was wrapped before going into the stocking. Dad would just throw things into Mom’s stocking but I’d fish them out and wrap them properly and he’d just smile and shake his head.

As for presents, we also made sure there were multiple gifts for each of us to unwrap. Now, these gifts weren’t all “big ticket” items. They could be underwear, pajamas, or trouser socks on the smaller end, up to perfume, shoes, or jewelry on the larger end. It made for a fun, drawn-out Christmas morning.

That is all gone as well and I’m in mourning. Not for the “stuff”, but for the love behind the “stuff”, the togetherness, the shared memories, the nostalgia. I’m faced with coping with truly being alone. This year at least, I don’t want to do any of the same things I would have done with Mom. It would feel odd and somewhat disrespectful. It would feel like I was trying to forget that she existed by doing the same things and just swapping her out. She is not replaceable and I don’t want to try replacing her just to stay busy.

So, I hope that family and friends will understand me not participating in the same events and traditions this Christmas. Maybe next year. This year, I have to mourn what was, accept what is, and figure out what I want life to be going forward.

The End of the Line

Posted on by
4

Here I am at the three-month mark since Mom died. I’m still sorting and clearing and cleaning. That will go on for awhile. As I’m doing all of those things, I’m also doing a lot of thinking about legacy and the “stuff” that’s left behind when someone dies. I touched upon this in an earlier post, but I’m thinking about it more broadly now.

The items upon which I’ve been focusing have been clothes, shoes, handbags, knick-knacks, etc. Basically these are the items that don’t have an emotional connection. These have been relatively easy to part with. There’s a whole other category of items that aren’t things I have to part with now, but eventually someone will. I don’t mean any heirlooms with any monetary or historical value that could be left to family or friends. I’m talking about items that spouses, partners, siblings, children or grandchildren keep. I have none of those people in my life. I am the end of the line. I am alone.

This isn’t some shocking revelation. I’ve been an only child my entire life. I never wanted children and I have no partner. So, what happens to the category of “stuff” that matters more than clothing, isn’t of tangible value, but marks a life and the important moments in it?

What are some of these things? My father’s baseball trophy from Junior High School, my parents’ high school yearbooks, and photographs. Lots of photographs of people I may not even know and someone else will surely not know. Sure, I can keep these now, but what about when I’m gone? These things don’t matter to anyone else. Then there’s all of my stuff. The items I’ve accumulated, but also all of the things my mother kept from my childhood.

You see, my parents couldn’t have children for nine years so when I finally came along, they were ecstatic and they poured all of their love into, and attention onto, me. Part of this meant that my mother chronicled everything. You should see my baby book! Measurements, details of birthday gifts for the first seven years of my life. My favorite songs from when I was two years old. In case you’re curious, they were “Alfie”, “Georgy Girl”, and “Bye, Bye Baby”, (the San Francisco Giants “fight” song). That same year, 1967, my biggest accomplishments were: knowing my ABCs and counting to 18 by the time I was two years and 10 months old. Interesting to me, but worthless to anyone else.

I came across a plastic baggie containing my baby teeth the other day. I’m sure my mother forgot she even had them. I get why she kept them, but what do I do with them? Or with the lock of hair snipped off when I was born or with the baby shoes my parents had bronzed?  When you’re the end of the line, what does that mean for your past, your history, your “stuff”? What does it mean for you?