helpers along the way

What a difference community can make.

For the past ten weeks I have deep in grief for my mum. 

Each day I have walked with her right next to me (figuritively speaking). 

Each day I have shed tears, full of deep sadness for her suffering, regret for decisions I have made and  feeling lost and cynical.

I have been making my way through the gulf of loss and doing exactly what I needed to be doing. 

At times I have had to remind myself that "doing something" with such uncomfortable feelings means not doing much but being present with them. 

"Doing something" means walking my days in deep acceptance of this moment in time.

This has been one of those times that doing nothing was exactly what would eventually move me forward in wellness.

My mum has died. I want to honour this time in my life.

Over the years a favourite poem of mine has been "SM" by Alice Walker, especially these two stanzas:

"I tell you, Chickadee

I am afraid of people

who cannot cry

Tears left unshed

 turn to poison

in the ducts 

Ask the next soldier you see

enjoying a massacre

if this is not so.

.....................

Violence does not work

except for the man

who pays your salary

Who knows

if you could still weep

you would not take the job.

So I'm ok with tears and the girls and I have cried and shared stories and remembered and asked questions. 

I have held my girls. The girls have held me.

It is a recipe for a healing tonic.

Ruby writes to her Grandma each evening telling her about the day and the girls have also worked on books of their own.

Ruby began hers one morning; a memoir of the weeks in Wellington after Grandma's death. Sky picked up on the idea and began one of her own. All I have done is provided encouragement and space to get them finished. 

As they write and draw, they make sense of this time for themselves.

The books are called "In Rememberance of Grandma." Such wee treasures.

And then there is the sewing the girls have been doing; gifts for cousins from Grandma's fabric stash.

Fabrics, which Grandma used to make dresses for my sisters and me (uh-hum, 40 years ago), are at long last seeing the light of day again and being sewn into gifts by and for her grandchildren.

As we sew, we have been weaving her qualities and gifts and love back into our lives and although we feel her absence, our hearts swell with her love.

 

And then there was the natural learning/unschooling camp last weekend.
At some point on Sunday I remember realising that I had hardly thought of mum. As I filled up on new connections and fun and beauty, the time I spent thinking of her had fleeting.

Until then, my head had been turned toward the past for ten weeks but hanging out with interesting and connected young people and their families inspired curiosity and rekindled my hope for the future. 

New ideas arose, fresh possibilities were planted and unexpectedly I found myself walking once again with the living.

Real community makes a difference.

That weekend something shifted. 

Unknowingly, the community held me and helped me trust once again that life is good.

coming up for air.

Last week was unexpectedly difficult.

This week feels different but, boy, last week I dragged myself through the days. 

Mostly people wouldn't have noticed. 

Generally I am one of those read-me-like-a-book people. You could say, an easy reader ;), but last week I was working hard at keeping moving, focusing on the small and good to get me through the days.

Mum was right near the surface. Reflecting on my mum's life put aspects of my own life into sharp focus especially those habits and patterns that I have inherited.

This was a little painful and sad.

Struggle seemed to me to be a companion throughout my mum's life - emotionally, financially and physically.

When I was growing up just getting through her days, bringing up five girls, going to work and keeping a home was a daily struggle. 

I watched this and then as a young adult I made up my mind I didn't want a bar of my mother's life :( 

Last week I regretted this. 

I regretted feeling I had to fight so hard for my own identity. 

I regretted that I never wanted children earlier. 

Regretted having moved around so much .... yada,yada, yada. 

You get the picture.

I regretted this all because, you see, from where I am now much of my life reflects the priorities and values in my mum's life. 

All that moving and learning and careering and processing and searching and wanting something different and here I am, right where my mother was, in the heart of my family.

And I wouldn't want it any other way. 

Sure the details are certainly different but so many of the fundamental values and priorities remain the same. 

In my early 20's I didn't see this coming. Not at all.

Who knew that I would have to travel so far to end up back at the feet of my mother. 

So why am I writing about this now?
Well, partly to be authentic (as in the subtitle of my blog) here in on this blog without wanting to share it all.
I'd be happy to share all over a cuppa but in such a public place I'll keep it to the bare bones;)
I'm also writing about it now because this week I still feel I'm just coming up for air.
Do you ever feel like that?

This week all I have tried to do each day is love my girls well. 

That's it.

To hear them. To notice what they engaged with. To be present.

I also wanted to notice my reactions, my impatience and my expectations. Notice them and do my best to let them go.

Last week got a bit messy - we had our share of grumpiness, ranting about the housework and some yelling. It wasn't getting us anywhere we want to be going,

So this week I pulled my focus in small and tight. 

It's all I could manage and was the most important thing I could think of to do.

When things get messy tend to the relationships.
Love the girls well.

The garden grounded us, walks connected us, read-alouds slowed us down and cuddles filled us up.

Joy feels like she's returning, we are welcoming her arrival.

for now

If I could have I might have stayed in bed all morning, under the covers, out of sight of the world. The thing is I'm not one to lie in bed; floundering around in my head leaves me feeling worse; like walking through mud with jandals on.
And so I told myself to get up, grab the fork and plant something.
As always my garden is my healer - taking me outside as the world wakes, production and beauty, connection and some work to ground me in the physical.

Grief isn't always easy to recognise. A flatness, tiredness and feeling generally overwhelmed with my life might be what mine looks like right now.

Gunter brought out coffee into the garden and we sat on the bench, the rising sun on our backs and drank it together.
Gunter left for work, the girls got up and I brought a pansy and a forget-me-not to the breakfast table to draw in my journal. The girls joined me. Today I began a morning commitment of writing 5 things I am thankful for, right next to the pansy.
Today's list:
> Morning coffee with Gunter.
>My garden.
>A day at home.
>Warmer weather.
>Obama making it in the US election.

By mid-afternoon I was still only half dressed, my pyjama top still on underneath my gardening jumper and the house was chaotic as I tried to regain order in my life by moving furniture around.
This can become an annoyingly ongoing habit with living in such a small space but right now I might just call it cheap therapy.

A gift came in the post from a friend today.
On the envelope she had written:

"Heke iho nga roimata tiaho mai nga whetu arahi mai ki te whenua"

"As the tears fall the stars shine down and lead our waka back to shore."

For now, the tears come and they go. That is the way of it. They are a comforting friend who will in due time bring me back home.

my dear mum

I have been away from this space for a while - I don't have much to say right now. 

On the first morning of our holiday I was called and told my dear mum was in ICU with heart failure.

This was totally unexpected.

Her five daughters all flew to be with her. I made it and spent the last 4 precious hours with her. 

She died that afternoon. 

We are back home now and the girls and I are learning to weave her loss and her life into our days.

We are deeply grateful for the freedom that our lifestyle affords us; to deeply honour this time, to feel the fullness of grief and to embrace life with renewed tenderness.

I will return to post here as I can.

Parts of a blessing resonating with me right now from "Bless The Space Between Us" by John O'Donohue.

For Grief

When you lose someone you love,

Your life becomes strange,

The ground beneath you gets fragile,

Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;

and some dead echo drags your voice down

Where words have no confidence.

Your heart has grown heavy with loss;

And though this loss has wounded others too,

No one knows what has been taken from you

When the silence of absence deepens.

......

There are days when you wake up happy;

Again in the fullness of life,

Until the moment breaks 

And you are thrown back

On the black tide of loss.

......

Gradually, you will learn acquantance 

With the invisible form of your departed;

And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned 
To wean your eyes
From the gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your (heart) where your loved one
Has awaited your return
All the time.