Spring Cleaning

As April approached, it was time for us to start trying to go through some of Mom's things, and I do mean "try." I knew it would be a hard task, but did not know exactly how hard.

Dad, Joy, and I were to be the ones involved in the process, the ones making the decisions. It proved to be very difficult to have us all agree on what to do with some of the things, or to be able to disassociate ourselves and emotions for the day to get through some of the things, or to even find a day that we could all get together to "try." The days were rare and infrequent, as none of us were just rushing to the process. It was not something we looked forward to doing with eager anticipation. It was more like dreading it, but knowing it was something that had to be done. I would've rather had my nails pulled off one by one. There was so much emotion and attatchment to things, even when we tried to detach ourselves. It was impossible. We never got through one room or even one drawer without one of us crying. And we still have not gotten through everything. We did make our first purge, of things that were more easy to let go of. And we did set aside and keep some of our most treasured items. But we did not really get too far past that with the process. It was such a paradox. At times you think you want everything gone, put away, to see no harsh reminders of her, but then other days you do not want one thing touched or moved, fearing you are slowly letting go of her, one piece at a time, and that is all we have left.

Her closet and bathroom were the worst for me. All her personal items, her glasses, her purse, her toothbrush, her lipstick which she never left the house without. Items she had just touched days ago. Items she used right up until the last day of her life. I remember brushing her teeth with her toothbrush the morning of what would be her last day with us. Then I used her favorite Mary Kay creme to wash her face. We had just put her lotion on her itchy legs hours before her final breath. I could still smell that scent from her Jergens bottle. What would we do with all of these things? How could we part with them all, and that was only the beginning. She had so much stuff, it was over whelming....more than any of us could have imagined. I remember going into her big walk in closet many times and just sitting on the floor crying, looking at all her clothes. They were hung so orderly and color coordinated, some even hung inside out so not to get any dust on them. And then her shoes, neatly kept in their original boxes all labeled on the outside in her neat handwriting. I could sit in the closet and even smell her. This is where I felt the closest to her, not wanting to leave.

It is now months later and we did finally move the clothes, per Dad's request. But what about everything else? Her things all all around, she is everywhere you look. She loved her trinkets, and they helped make her house a home. I was often with her when she got them, and if I wasn't, I could tell you where she bought them. She loved so many items becasue she could always find beauty in anything. She would often just buy something that she knew would brighten up a room, or buy something for someone else because she knew they would like it or it was their favorite color or their birthday was coming. I knew I would have a hard time with all of these things, but did not know I would find attatchment to so many of them. I found it difficult to let go (and still do). I want things to be left the same. I don't want things to be different, but they are different.....very different. And they will
never be the same again.

It has been a slow process, and we still have lots to do, but the Spring Cleaning had begun. And I hope that with time, it may perhaps get a little easier. I hope one day to find joy in looking at her memorabilia and maybe even to be able to smile while doing it.

After the Flowers Fade

Shortly after returning home from Grandma's funeral in North Carolina, things began to slowly change. It was a quiet feeling. A sad feeling. A very lonely one. All the family and friends who had been there for us and had done so much went back to their normal lives. The amount of grieving time that feels right for our society had now passed. We were now left to face the beginning of our lives without Mom, on our own. While eveyone else returned to their normal lives, we were facing one that would prove to be anything but normal! And NO ONE can understand what it is like to be in the shoes of someone who is truly grieving, grieving in ways you would never have known possible, until it happens to you. You are left with feelings you don't know how to express, feelings you have never had before, and feelings you don't even know what to do with, and no one can seem to help. Oh, yes, people try, or some do, but they just can't seem to say the right thing. And is there even a right thing To say???.......probably not.

The phone calls were less frequent, the meals were no more, the cards and notes had stopped, and the flowers had all faded. The world went on with life, life as normal, but for us it had stopped. It would never be the same again, and NOTHING could change that.

Losing Another Piece of Mom

We did know just how soon it would be after Mom's funeral, that we would be together again at yet another one. This time it would be Grandma Vera, Mom's mother. It was February 16th that we received a call that she was not doing well and may have had a stroke. And sure enough, a second phone call came, only 2 days later, telling us that Grandma had died. She had not lived even two and a half months more than Mom. We were so sad to lose Grandma, to lose another family member, and to lose yet another piece of Mom. It was so hard to muster up the energy, the emotions, the thoughts needed to do it all over again. Just the thought of it was almost too much to bear. But, we knew we had to go and that we had to be there. And I knew, somehow, that we would get through it.......and we did. Joy and I were even somehow able to read a poem about Heaven that Grandma had written only months before. What an honor.

Dad, Joy, and I traveled up to North Carolina for the service. It was so hard to be at another funeral so soon after Mom's, so hard to face death again, so hard to sit around with all of Mom's family witout having Mom there with us. It was our first trip without her, and we missed her so much it hurt. It just made things more than real. And although an extremely difficult task it did prove to be, it also served as another step in our grieving process that we were already in.

This whole other story about Grandma Vera had also been taking place in our lives, simultaneously, as if what we were already experiencing was not enough. The story of Grandma was a sub-plot to our main one. It inter-linked, over-lapped, and confused matters all the more. While Mom was having her most difficult months battling her cancer, Grandma was also having some very tough months of her own. She had experienced a fall, broke her hip, been in the hospital, undergone surgery, and been moved to a rehabilitation center. She was having her own battles, physically and emotionally as well. We all knew that Mom was the one who usually took care of her and she was obviously not able to continue doing that anymore. And no matter how hard we tried to help Grandma, we could never fill Mom's shoes. We dispersed our energy between the two as best we could, but were relieved when two of Mom's siblings stepped in to assist the tired troops.

The day came when we finally had to tell each of them, Mother and Daughter, about the other's conditions and how serious they each were. We had tried to "protect" them from the worst of things as best we could, but the inevitable was coming, and it was coming all too quickly. They had to see each, and nothing was hidden anymore. They met once more, and said their final goodbyes to each other, until they would meet again.......in a much more glorious place that this earth can not provide. And although Grandma had her good days and bad ones after that day, she would never completely bounce back from her fall and all that she experienced. She knew the days for Mom were getting short and she hated the thought of having two of her daughters precede her in death. She was just missing something. She was missing her will to fight, missing her will to live. She was missing Mom. Many days she ached and prayed to go "home" to Heaven, where they would be reunited once again. And sooner than we all would have thought, God answered her prayer.

Butterflies

Butterflies became our theme, our symbol to remember Mom. They came quickly and they were everywhere. The idea first came to us when we were preparing for the service, reading over things we had jotted down, and notes Mom had previously written. We kept coming across one of favorite Bible verses, II Corinthians 5:17. "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has gone and the new has come."
Often you will find this verse on a bookmark or trinket with a butterfly next to it to symbolize the "new creation." So, knowing this was one of Mom's favorite verses, we chose to incorporate it into the service and her memorial.
We knew we wanted to have the verse printed on the bulletin, but had to look through several styles to make a choice. One finally caught our eye, and we knew it was the one. On the front it read, "The memory of the righteous will be a blessing." It was delicate, respectful, and accurate. It was perfect...........and happen to have a big butterfly on it as well.

So, as this verse became encouragement to us, so did the butterfly. And as winter slowly became spring, we began seeing them everywhere......on the flower arrangements people were sending, on cards we received, on things in stores we were in, and in the sky flying right around us. I saw them, Joy saw them, Dad saw them, and Julia and Avery saw them. Even Mom's sister, Aunt Esther saw one fly right around her and her husband and their RV right before heading out on the road on a long trip. They were everywhere. And they became little Godwinks to remind us that Mom was safely in His hands. She was a new creation now, in more ways than one.

The Birthday Card

My first birthday without mom came all too quickly. January 28th was only a few weeks after Mom had died. It was a strange feeling. Yes, still a sad one, but different than the previous days. It got me in my soul, in an even deeper, more personal place than before.
Mom was the birthday party giver. She was the birthday celebrater. How could I even think about my day of birth when we had just recently experienced her day of death? She was the one who birthed me and brought me into this world. But she was no longer here. My birthday would not be the same without her. I did not even want my birthday to come. In fact, I dreaded it. What would we do? How could we pretend not to notice she wasn't there? Yes, we all got together. Yes, we went to dinner and tried to celebrate. But the whole thing was just awkward, that is the word that comes to my mind, awkward.

Then, there was The Card........the card my dear sweet friend got my Mom to sign for me just a couple weeks before her death, knowing my birthday would be coming soon. She had told me of it, and had my sister hand deliver it to me on my actual day of birth. But I did not open it. I couldn't. It lay there on the kitchen counter, for days, for weeks, before I had enough strength, enough guts to open it. I knew it was one of the last things she ever wrote, and definately the last thing she would ever write to me. It was all I could do to see my name on the front of the envelope in her shaky handwriting. But one cool day in Febuary, I had the opportunity to be alone, and I held the card in my hands for the first time, touching the letters of my name with my fingers. I finally opened it, and I could hardly read her words through my tear filled eyes. I loved it, knowing it was her final words to me, but hated it, feeling how unfair it was that I would never get another birthday card from her again. It was too much to bear, but yet I wanted more. I did not want to ever have to read it again, yet I could not put it down. I continued to read it over and over again. It was so bittersweet. I would cherish it forever and ever.
She wrote how much she loved me. She told me what a good mother I was, and how proud she was of me. She wrote about what a delight it was to be a grandmother. And she ended it saying she would see me again soon someday in Heaven at our beautiful reunion with our Savour. Some days I feel that day will not come soon enough. Oh glorious day that will be!!!!!
Tears ran down my cheeks till I could see no more.

Googling Grief

It did not take long for me to start my research. What was happening to me? Was it normal? How long would it last? How do I cope? What is this thing called "grief"?

Thank goodness for the compter and internet, because I spent a lot of time on it. I began my research by googling the word grief, and found thousands if not millions of sites with information. I read, I searched, I learned, I wrote, I cried. I read about grief and what it can look like, I found songs and printed out their words, I wrote e-mails to other friends and family who had lost their mothers, I read journals, and I began my own blog. I would pull up the Moffitt Cancer Center website and just stare at it, like it was going to tell me something. I went back to Mom's Caringbridge site and would read it over and over again, re-living the tragic story, but also reading all the words of encouragement so many people sent to us. I spent hours looking through photos of Mom on our computer. I made mini scrapbooks for each of the kids. Joy and I traded information on things we found that we thought the other would like to read. I connected with strangers across the country as I read their stories, that were all so different, yet exactly the same.

I needed to learn, to grow, to cope, to deal. I needed to be "doing" something. I needed to be busy, to keep my mind occupied. I needed to be in control again.

Sitting Shiva

Everyone grieves differently, that is elementary. Some want certain things said, some want nothing said, some want anything and everything said, and some just don't know what to say. A grieving person can be volatile, emotional, and very sensitive. Something you might think would be good to say, may just be the one thing to put them over the edege. So, when in doubt, say nothing. By all means, I am not suggesting to ignore the person, or give them "space." There are many ways to show the person that you care and are there for them. You just don't want to put your foot in your mouth at a time like this. You can send them a card, bring them a meal, pray for them, or just be with them. All without saying a word.

Many religions and cultures observe s specific bereavement period in many ways, some similiar and some very different. Some shorter, but some lasting up to 2 years. But the universal deinition for true mourning is all the same. All use the word "Mourning" to descibe a "cultural complex of behaviours in which the breaved participate." This can vary from wearing special clothing, veils, or jewelry, to not working or cooking, to following very specific timelines, some of which could be defined as very purposeful rituals. But all are synonomous with deep, intense meaning.

There is an old Jewish custom for grieving and mourning during the bereavement period, called Shiva. Although I am not Jewish, there is much appealing about this ritual to the naieve eye. They very purposely set aside a certain amount of time for certain mourning stages, to help the grievers heal properly. This culture definitely acknowledges the need to grieve. The stages are very specific and thought out with the griever in mind. The mourning begins with a 7 day period called Shiva, then a 30 day period called Shloshim, followed by a 12 month period caleed Shneim. The first seven days, more specifically named as the Sitting Shiva, is a period where close friends and family members come to the griever's house and just SIT with them. Nothing has to be said and no one is searching for the right thing (or anything) to say. You just sit. You acknowledge the griever's pain and make your presence known to them and that you care. The grievers do not go to work and they purposely set aside this time to look different than normal everyday life. They are encouraged not to worry about their appearances and mirrors are even covered to reinforce this principle. They most often wear dark or black clothing and somtimes even ripped outer garments to symbolize their inner ripped hearts. All of these traditions are to be subtle reminders of the temporary nature of our bodies and our shared morality.

Our Western Civilization knows very little about true grieving. It is not something taught to us nor anything we are ever properly prepared for. All we know as a whole is that we want it to hurry along and go away. We don't want to see the person crying or mourning. It makes us all very uncomfortable, as close friends and a distnat society. We want to neatly sweep it all into a box in the corner. Now I am not talking about a typical everyday death that we all face at one time or another. I am talking about a tragic loss of a very dear loved one that is unexpected, or comes too soon in life, or comes with a long term illness that steals their life and dignity away. Not just the ordinary sadness, but GRIEF, with a capital G. And this type of sorrow can not be rushed along or put on a timeline. We all must grieve individually as we need so we can properly heal from the loss of our loved one. And the more you loved, the more you will grieve. But unfortunately, just after a few weeeks of the loss, our society wants it all to be over and done with and back to "normal" as quickly as possible. But it's just not that easy.

Our own Christian Bible, of which many of our basic beliefs were found upon, gives us some insight into the mourning process. It does not say we are exempt from feeling sorrow or mourning, just because we are believers. It does not say "if" we mourn or weep, but in Ecclesiastes it says, "There IS a time to weep.......there IS a time to mourn." In Psalm 34, it says we will be "brokenhearted" and "crushed in spirit." And in Jeremiah it says we will "mourn and have sorrow." But the good news is found at the end of these passages! In Ecclesiastes, God promises us there will be a time of dancing and laughing AFTER the weeping and mourning! In Psalms, God reminds us he is close to the broken hearted. And in Jeremiah, God promises that He will "turn our mourning into gladness. He will give us comfort and joy instead of sorrow!" So, yes,the mourning and bereavement stages of a greiver will be there, BUT........they will eventually end. And that is a promise we can cling to.

So, sit tight. Don't rush the process. Be sensitive to those greiving. Give them time, not space. And if you just don't know what to say.........then just "sit."