Tuesday, November 21, 2006

And so we come to Thanksgiving. A day of F's - food, feasting, football, friends, family, feet that hurt from being stood on for hours while cooking, flying balloons in Macy's Parade; in short, fullness and abundance.

I will be kept busy preparing the feast - turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, canded sweet potatoes, orange glazed carrots, biscuits, baked cauliflower, creme brule for dessert and shrimp cocktail for starters. So I will give thanks for the food we will eat, and I will give even more thanks for having a 4 day weekend to look forward to. (YAY!!!)

As usual I will miss half of the parade because of preparing the feast, but this year I've got DVR (my cable companies brand of TiV0) so I can tape the parade and watch it later on, while I digest my dinner. And so I give thanks for the marvels of the computer age.

Thanksgiving brings mixed emotions. My mom's absence will weigh on me, heavily, so for once I'm actually looking forward to being kept busy in the kitchen. But it'll be hard, because cooking the meal is something Mom and I shared. But in a way, I feel it's paying homage to her to keep the traditions at my household intact, and that makes me feel a little bit better. And so I give thanks for that.

I give thanks for so many things - the people in my life (even though sometimes some of them are huge pains in the butt), the awe and beauty of nature, the visual arts, music, good movies, the beach and the ocean, poetry and my buds over at PFFA, PFFA, the people who visit this blog, dragonflys, angels, sci-fi, cappucino, wine and spirits, the scents of flowers, sunflowers, lighthouses....well, the list would go on for thousands of keystrokes so those will have to do.

But the most highest thanks I give is for having been blessed with my mom. She was a blessing beyond measure.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

So, today marks 1 year since my mom died. Tonight I lit a white candle and placed it in front of a picture I have of her where she looks very happy. I prayed and then spoke to her and told her how I felt, how much I miss her and how empty I still feel. I told her how no one, except for my one aunt and one cousin, has called me to offer any emotional support since she died. (honestly, I've gotten more caring and support from people I've met on the web - so how sad is that? and these people, my blood relatives, claim they are "good christians". What a laugh. If there's one thing I've learned since my mom died, it's that you choose your own family. Those people who share your genes, well, that's all they share.

It's hard to believe a year has passed already. It seems like she died just yesterday, and I wonder if that will ever change. I wonder, too, if I will ever recover from the trauma of her death. Having shared a home with her for almost all of my life, I feel her absence acutely,
and persistently. At times, when the grief of her loss has really sunk its claws into me, I can feel her presence. That should comfort me, but it doesn't. It only makes me more sad. Oh, what I would give to have just one more day with her.

I feel that by now I should be healing, but I'm not. Not really. Oh, I get through the day ok. I go out with friends and do fun things. I take care of the house (most recently I painted the front railing.) I shop, I sleep , I eat. But inside I still feel empty - I am a shell without any filling. And I don't think about things the way I used to, I just blindly go wherever I go. My brother says I zone out all the time now, and if I try to think about where my mind is I can't come up with an answer because I don't know where it is. And that concerns me because that could be dangerous.

So, a year later, I can't say I'm getting over it because I seem to still be stuck eyebrow deep in it. I know grief can take a long time to dissolve to the point where a flicker of joy can claim a tiny place in my heart. All I can do is hope and pray it comes soon, before my soul completely dissolves.

While I was meditating tonight, while I was talking to her, I wrote a poem. Well, I think it's a poem. I don't know anymore - it's been months since I wrote anything. Actually, it's the first poem I've tried to write since NaPoWriMo mania sucked me dry after June. Between that and my inner state of mind I haven't even wanted to write, and that worries me. But anywho, here it is. I hope it's not that awful!

First Anniversary

I look at her picture, force open
my heart again and hope she will feel
these unsmiling eyes calling her back
from a place they cannot go, not yet.
My thoughts plead for the simple cradle
of unseen arms as the white candle
diminishes its vigil of light.
This first year blinked by. Where did it go
while I frittered and searched through torn
snapshots of memories, seeking some
comfort from the past? Where is His rod
and staff as I slog through my valley?
I wonder if I'll ever find
enough tape to restore those pictures.

copyright 2006 by Cookala.