I am rather embarrassed by the lack of progress made on goals for the winter. I suppose that I fell into light depression due to my mother’s death. My best escape is reading. It focuses my attention and distracts me from sadness or anger. Over six months have passed but I still experience intense sadness and tears. Her birth date, my birthday, and what would have been my parent’s sixtieth wedding anniversary were all difficult days.
I also dealt with a physical illness that stole two months of energy from me. As I have written before, I coughed for about a month. I continued to occasionally hack for two weeks and was tired for another two weeks. The phlegm was milky so I don’t think that it was pneumonia or bronchitis. I have a terrible deductible for the health plan so I didn’t want to add to my already huge debt.
At least Tilly is doing well. She is back to being plump and sassy. You’d never know that she was about to die three months ago. My friend Roopa has started divorce proceedings. Her lawyer sent the papers to her soon-to-be-ex husband’s lawyer but the fool hasn’t filed them yet. This is vexing Roopa. Sadly, she refuses to see a counselor, which I think that both she and the kids could benefit from immensely.
Ted is back in Minnesota. He figured out that he did not have support system in Nevada and that aided to his return to alcoholism. He lost a lot of money during his venture. I have decided to be friendly but not seek friendship with him. He is gratingly pessimistic. Everyone goes through bumps but he is more like a sandpit, he’ll drag me down if I am not careful.
Keep hope alive.
Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Sunday, December 22, 2013
LETTERS TO MUM
“to: Mom
from: Ima
I love you! mom I kno
w you love me. but I
think. I love you more
than you love me.”
Image of tree, three clouds and a sun below the writing on 4-inch square hot pink notepaper. Due to my dyslexia, I didn’t figure out how to read or write until third grade so this was written sometime after that point during primary school. Oh my poor dear mother, how exasperating. I was the youngest kid of dramatic teenage sisters. My eldest sibling got pregnant during her senior year in high school, married two weeks after graduation, and delivered my nephew in September. I was probably feeling neglected because my parents raised my nephew since my sister and her abusive husband were clueless.
My dad was clearing out my mother’s possessions when he came across these notes. My mother had also kept a letter that I sent while I was in college. I had just moved up the Twin Cities to attend college and wrote because I could not afford to call long-distance. This was long before email was publicly available. I wrote this in January while residing in the University of Minnesota’s only female dorm (which is co-ed now). The first two pages of the letter have been lost. I have added brackets to explain a few items.
January 19th (1980s):
“Speaking of Mike [my best friend], have the pink flamingos [which I ordered for his birthday] come in at the mall? Tell them to hold them until I get down there to pick the pair up. I’ll just give one to Mike as a 20th birthday present. [Mom wrote the store’s name and phone number on the letter]
Gosh, I’m going to turn 20 [soon]! Sounds old - but better than – teen Blah. Thanks for Terry’s [a friend from high school] address! He called the other night and we had a nice half hour conversation. I think he may transfer up here next year but I’ll be forced to quit due to financial problems – oh well.
Its ccccooolllD up here and it’s a good thing the worst was during the weekend. I’d freeze walking to classes, even if I wore tons of clothes so I’m glad I could stay inside. –75 windchill is not my idea of a balmy day.
Well, gotta go – Take Care and I Love You Lots!,
Ima
PS Say “Hi” to everybody
THINK HAPPY!”
My question is why did she retain these notes? Did the love note make her laugh or cry? I wrote a poem on the back of the letter, was that the reason? ‘Tis too late to ask. Poem will be published in the next post. I still can’t unpack her clothes even though it’s been more than two months since she died.
Questions unanswerable.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
from: Ima
I love you! mom I kno
w you love me. but I
think. I love you more
than you love me.”
Image of tree, three clouds and a sun below the writing on 4-inch square hot pink notepaper. Due to my dyslexia, I didn’t figure out how to read or write until third grade so this was written sometime after that point during primary school. Oh my poor dear mother, how exasperating. I was the youngest kid of dramatic teenage sisters. My eldest sibling got pregnant during her senior year in high school, married two weeks after graduation, and delivered my nephew in September. I was probably feeling neglected because my parents raised my nephew since my sister and her abusive husband were clueless.
My dad was clearing out my mother’s possessions when he came across these notes. My mother had also kept a letter that I sent while I was in college. I had just moved up the Twin Cities to attend college and wrote because I could not afford to call long-distance. This was long before email was publicly available. I wrote this in January while residing in the University of Minnesota’s only female dorm (which is co-ed now). The first two pages of the letter have been lost. I have added brackets to explain a few items.
January 19th (1980s):
“Speaking of Mike [my best friend], have the pink flamingos [which I ordered for his birthday] come in at the mall? Tell them to hold them until I get down there to pick the pair up. I’ll just give one to Mike as a 20th birthday present. [Mom wrote the store’s name and phone number on the letter]
Gosh, I’m going to turn 20 [soon]! Sounds old - but better than – teen Blah. Thanks for Terry’s [a friend from high school] address! He called the other night and we had a nice half hour conversation. I think he may transfer up here next year but I’ll be forced to quit due to financial problems – oh well.
Its ccccooolllD up here and it’s a good thing the worst was during the weekend. I’d freeze walking to classes, even if I wore tons of clothes so I’m glad I could stay inside. –75 windchill is not my idea of a balmy day.
Well, gotta go – Take Care and I Love You Lots!,
Ima
PS Say “Hi” to everybody
THINK HAPPY!”
My question is why did she retain these notes? Did the love note make her laugh or cry? I wrote a poem on the back of the letter, was that the reason? ‘Tis too late to ask. Poem will be published in the next post. I still can’t unpack her clothes even though it’s been more than two months since she died.
Questions unanswerable.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
LUNA MOM, Part II
I reluctantly brought home the boxes containing some of Mum’s clothes to my house. They languished for a couple weeks. When I was switching my warm weather wardrobe to cool weather attire I decided to blend in Mom’s items. Bad idea. I began sobbing and everything got blurry. I had to sit down. I don’t know when I will be able to incorporate her clothing into mine.
Attended a grief support group at my faith community. I am acquainted with one of the attendees but didn’t know anyone else. It wasn’t comfortable. I didn’t say much. I choked out a quick synopsis of my mom’s illness and death but it was difficult to talk. Not an enjoyable experience. I don’t know if I want to return. Perhaps the wound is too new.
Six weeks after the funeral I finally began to feel better. I was finally able to read a book, though in short spurts. Listened to polka music for a brief period of time. Mom liked polka and we had a lot of fun watching the dancers. Sleeping a bit more. I still continue to cry. Managed to finish the yard-work, cleaned the shed and garage. Revved up the snow-blower in anticipation of the winter weather. I still need to winterize the house and clean the back porch.
Bookclub group met and they were very kind. Lots of condolences and hugs. I made several of them cry while relating the story of my Mom. I didn’t intend to spread my misery. A lot of people have been telling me their experience(s) with a parent or loved one dying. At some point it will make me feel connected but right now it only increases my grief.
Missing Mum
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
Attended a grief support group at my faith community. I am acquainted with one of the attendees but didn’t know anyone else. It wasn’t comfortable. I didn’t say much. I choked out a quick synopsis of my mom’s illness and death but it was difficult to talk. Not an enjoyable experience. I don’t know if I want to return. Perhaps the wound is too new.
Six weeks after the funeral I finally began to feel better. I was finally able to read a book, though in short spurts. Listened to polka music for a brief period of time. Mom liked polka and we had a lot of fun watching the dancers. Sleeping a bit more. I still continue to cry. Managed to finish the yard-work, cleaned the shed and garage. Revved up the snow-blower in anticipation of the winter weather. I still need to winterize the house and clean the back porch.
Bookclub group met and they were very kind. Lots of condolences and hugs. I made several of them cry while relating the story of my Mom. I didn’t intend to spread my misery. A lot of people have been telling me their experience(s) with a parent or loved one dying. At some point it will make me feel connected but right now it only increases my grief.
Missing Mum
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
Monday, December 9, 2013
LUNA MOM
Mom was “sensitive” and would yell out, “Ima, its for you,” just before the phone would ring. Due to her accuracy, we knew that she was correct long before Caller ID was invented. She didn’t like talking about her abilities because she was afraid that the Devil would cause harm. Sibling #2 and I inherited the ability. I consider myself clairvoyant, I see things that others don’t or else they deny. When I feel safe and secure, I am highly sensitive but due to prolonged financial stress I haven’t been as aware as usual.
A few days before I ventured to Dad’s house to help clear out the clothes closet Sibling 2 was at his house. The home is a rambler with a front door leading into the living room and a hallway leading to the bathroom and bedrooms. She had just walked down the hallway and entered the living room when Mom came through the closed door and said, “Hi Sis, did you miss me?” Mom smiled, took off her coat and dissipated. #2 stood there stunned. I know that #2 would not lie about this apparition. I’m glad that Mom looked healthy and pre-dementia. I’m a bit jealous, Mom has not visited me or else I am too emotional or cut off from the sensitivity due to stress.
#2 wasn’t surprised by my incident with the earring. She thinks it is highly possible that Mom was playing a joke on me. Since #2 has a hubby, 30 year old daughter, and two granddaughters living in her home it would be difficult to determine if Mom is playing jokes on her. Mom was a benign practical joker while she was alive. She loved to “pull someone’s leg” and make them laugh. Nothing mean but sometimes it was annoying.
Life is a joke.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
Friday, December 6, 2013
ONE MOON, Part II
The next day we focused on sorting Mom’s remaining clothes. Siblings 1 & 3 had sent a box home to themselves before they departed. Sister 2 had gone through and selected some items already. I got the leftovers. It was exhausting to look at them all and remember how she liked certain outfits. Her favorite color was teal.
I then had to try on the outfit to make certain that it fit. Sadly, I am a bit too large for a lot of her clothes. I don’t like to wear white and some of the fashions don’t fit my preferences. I still managed to fill a box. Not the method that I wanted to expand my wardrobe. I also inherited some of her tennis shoes and underwear. Disappointed that one of my sisters absconded with the bright shirt that I brought back for Mom from Hawaii.
Opened the hallway closet and found a stash of sugar and flour. Mom loved to bake and must have run out of storage room in the kitchen. It was hard for her to climb stairs so this was her alternative location. There were lots of handbags, which Mom didn’t use. Her mom had a collection, which should have been auctioned off when she died. Grandma Daisy compulsively bought purses.
For a person who rarely wore jewelry, Mum had oodles. I presume that some of it she inherited from her mother who died fifteen years ago. Mom loved butterflies and would occasionally wear a butterfly necklace. She did not have pierced ears and didn’t like to wear clip-ons. I received a pearl necklace that Dad had sent Mom when he was stationed in Japan during the early 1950s.
Dad is overwhelmed by Mom’s stuff. Shifting of the boxes made us both sneeze. He is at least taking the time to sort through the items but I fear that he will just start throwing boxes out without looking at the contents. I have offered to return but it is emotionally draining work. I don’t want to erase the existence of my mother.
An individual is not defined by their “stuff.” It is about relationships and being remembered fondly. Dad received almost 200 cards and nearly $1,000 in donations (that he is aware of). Once I heal a bit more, I will strive to write down her stories. You will never have the opportunity to meet my mom, dear reader, but I want you to know her through me.
Tell your loved ones that you love them today!
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
I then had to try on the outfit to make certain that it fit. Sadly, I am a bit too large for a lot of her clothes. I don’t like to wear white and some of the fashions don’t fit my preferences. I still managed to fill a box. Not the method that I wanted to expand my wardrobe. I also inherited some of her tennis shoes and underwear. Disappointed that one of my sisters absconded with the bright shirt that I brought back for Mom from Hawaii.
Opened the hallway closet and found a stash of sugar and flour. Mom loved to bake and must have run out of storage room in the kitchen. It was hard for her to climb stairs so this was her alternative location. There were lots of handbags, which Mom didn’t use. Her mom had a collection, which should have been auctioned off when she died. Grandma Daisy compulsively bought purses.
For a person who rarely wore jewelry, Mum had oodles. I presume that some of it she inherited from her mother who died fifteen years ago. Mom loved butterflies and would occasionally wear a butterfly necklace. She did not have pierced ears and didn’t like to wear clip-ons. I received a pearl necklace that Dad had sent Mom when he was stationed in Japan during the early 1950s.
Dad is overwhelmed by Mom’s stuff. Shifting of the boxes made us both sneeze. He is at least taking the time to sort through the items but I fear that he will just start throwing boxes out without looking at the contents. I have offered to return but it is emotionally draining work. I don’t want to erase the existence of my mother.
An individual is not defined by their “stuff.” It is about relationships and being remembered fondly. Dad received almost 200 cards and nearly $1,000 in donations (that he is aware of). Once I heal a bit more, I will strive to write down her stories. You will never have the opportunity to meet my mom, dear reader, but I want you to know her through me.
Tell your loved ones that you love them today!
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
ONE MOON
Sleeping a bit better. I occasionally procure a 5-6 hour rest but still plagued by insomnia. It’s pitiful to be tired when I am supposed to be waking up and then falling asleep at my desk at work. I have used some sick time due to exhaustion in the afternoon. I make certain that the vital tasks are completed and then venture home. I nap on the couch with the cats frequently. People have been observing that I appear “worn out.” Sorrow is brutal.
Friends are checking in less frequently. Sporadically receiving a belated condolence card. I am up to seventeen now. I have sent in the donations to Alzheimer’s Association and direct it towards research only. I don’t want the money going to other programming or administrative costs. Utilized the other funds toward gas costs. I spend about $30 for each trip to my parent’s home.
Apprehensively returned to my Dad’s home five weeks after Mum died. Cried as I passed the cemetery, filled with dread. Strange to state Dad’s house, I am accustomed to saying Mom & Dad. They were always an inseparable unit. Singular is an uncomfortable expression. Dad hated going to the doctor so Mom always feared that he would die at a young age. His family has longevity since his fraternal aunt lived to 105, mom to 97, and siblings are still alive at 99 and 97.
Arrived in the afternoon. Dad invited Betty over for supper. We looked over some of Mom’s notebooks. It was apparent that she realized that she was having memory problems nine or ten years ago. She would write over and over the names of the kids, grand-kids, and great-grandkids. She kept notes on all types of things. She always wrote a synopsis of sermons but stopped in January 2011. The arthritis in her back would hurt more during winter so she didn’t like going out in the cold. By the time she returned to church, she stopped taking notes.
Dad was very sad when he came across an envelope marked “music for my funeral.” We only sang one song Mom wanted, “How Great Thou Art.” I wish that the service would have been taped and then the version given to the family could have contained her desired songs with a montage of photos. He had diligently planned his funeral but never bothered to ask her what she wanted. Too late now.
To be continued.
Funeral plans are good.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
Monday, November 25, 2013
SO MANY TEARS
By week three after my mother died, the daily phone calls from friends had dwindled. I received a total of twelve cards and $100 worth of donations to Alzheimer’s. My closest friends contributed funds to use toward gas. Sleeping four to six hours per night. Starting to have moments of normalcy again. Helped a friend take out her kids for Halloween and laughed for the first time in a couple months.
Worked myself into a state of fatigue by cleaning out the compost bins and garden beds. Sat on the couch to relax and glanced at a photo of my Mom. Cried intensely, probably more than I have before this moment. I suppose the physical weariness broke down more of my emotional barriers. Wept myself dry and fell asleep on the couch. Awoke, took a shower, and felt better, extremely weary but better.
Purchased a bottle of wine but only drank one glass. It sits in the fridge. I’m afraid that it will make me more depressed and that is a bad experience. The dwindling daylight hours and cooler temperatures are bad enough without chemically adding to the sorrow. I still need to change out four storm windows and seal a multitude of drafty windows in the house. I must keep as much of the warm air in the house as possible. I can’t afford to heat it over 58 degrees so the poor cats suffer the most. I wear layers and earmuffs at all times.
Continuously rejected on job interviews. It is very disheartening. I try and try and try to no avail. I must procure a better paying job. My dad is struggling to pay bills so there will be no inheritance. My finances are near collapse and I am terrified of defaulting on my bills and mortgage. I have begun to sell stuff and I may raid my meager retirement savings. I will be destitute as an elderly woman, if I live that long. Government programs always seem to end just as I need them so I will undoubtedly be homeless when I am eighty. I don’t expect to be rescued. I want to support myself by working, good honest work. Maybe someone will want to publish this blog….
Time of Tears.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
Worked myself into a state of fatigue by cleaning out the compost bins and garden beds. Sat on the couch to relax and glanced at a photo of my Mom. Cried intensely, probably more than I have before this moment. I suppose the physical weariness broke down more of my emotional barriers. Wept myself dry and fell asleep on the couch. Awoke, took a shower, and felt better, extremely weary but better.
Purchased a bottle of wine but only drank one glass. It sits in the fridge. I’m afraid that it will make me more depressed and that is a bad experience. The dwindling daylight hours and cooler temperatures are bad enough without chemically adding to the sorrow. I still need to change out four storm windows and seal a multitude of drafty windows in the house. I must keep as much of the warm air in the house as possible. I can’t afford to heat it over 58 degrees so the poor cats suffer the most. I wear layers and earmuffs at all times.
Continuously rejected on job interviews. It is very disheartening. I try and try and try to no avail. I must procure a better paying job. My dad is struggling to pay bills so there will be no inheritance. My finances are near collapse and I am terrified of defaulting on my bills and mortgage. I have begun to sell stuff and I may raid my meager retirement savings. I will be destitute as an elderly woman, if I live that long. Government programs always seem to end just as I need them so I will undoubtedly be homeless when I am eighty. I don’t expect to be rescued. I want to support myself by working, good honest work. Maybe someone will want to publish this blog….
Time of Tears.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
Saturday, November 16, 2013
TENDER OF HEART
Week Two was difficult, after the death of my mom. I continued to cry several times per day. I kept the door closed at work because the sounds from the hallway were agitating. I cry every day. I am not accustomed to public display of emotion so it makes me feel uncomfortable on top of the sadness. My co-worker’s mom, who is in her 90s, has begun the transition process so I can provide direct empathy. However, the situation just made me cry more when I got home.
Sleeping a bit better 4-6 hours every other night but I feel exhausted after work. My house is getting messier and I don’t really care. I forced myself to do some yardwork but was totally exhausted after a couple hours. I feel very overwhelmed by the amount of winterization tasks to do. Admitted to myself that I needed assistance so I called a friend who will come to help next weekend. I will pay him with a meal of soup.
On the first day that I didn’t sob, I found the lost earring. It appeared on my dresser. How? I had searched that area before and it wasn’t there. Mom was that you? Or, just my own stupidity? I won’t know the answer until I join her – wherever that may be or not be. The ultimate question I suppose.
It is really good to write all of this out. I had kept a handwritten journal for many years when I was young but stopped in my mid-20s. Writing helps me to process the experience. One-way therapy though I am heartened by the number of people who read this blog. Your kindness and support is worth more than gold to me!
Motherless child.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
Sleeping a bit better 4-6 hours every other night but I feel exhausted after work. My house is getting messier and I don’t really care. I forced myself to do some yardwork but was totally exhausted after a couple hours. I feel very overwhelmed by the amount of winterization tasks to do. Admitted to myself that I needed assistance so I called a friend who will come to help next weekend. I will pay him with a meal of soup.
On the first day that I didn’t sob, I found the lost earring. It appeared on my dresser. How? I had searched that area before and it wasn’t there. Mom was that you? Or, just my own stupidity? I won’t know the answer until I join her – wherever that may be or not be. The ultimate question I suppose.
It is really good to write all of this out. I had kept a handwritten journal for many years when I was young but stopped in my mid-20s. Writing helps me to process the experience. One-way therapy though I am heartened by the number of people who read this blog. Your kindness and support is worth more than gold to me!
Motherless child.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved
Friday, July 23, 2010
ADRIFT AT SEA
Grief is not enjoyable. As mentioned in the previous blog, my cat of 7 years, Momo died of cancer in May. The vet suggested that she lose weight so I procured a low-calorie food and I just thought that she didn’t like it. I put her back onto regular food but she didn’t gain back weight so I took her to the vet. Ten days later I had to euthanize her because she was having trouble walking and started to smell sweet. The sweet smell is called ketones a gas given off by mammals as our organs shut down. It was profoundly difficult.
I resigned in April from a job where I liked most of my co-workers (didn’t like the hours being cut to part-time with no benefits) and took another job that I had been warned by two previous employees to avoid. I did not heed their advice because I wanted full time work. I had quickly realized that it was not a good fit and was already seeking another position but the transition occurred faster than I anticipated. Fired in July. I now am filled with anxiety and a touch of depression. Not a good combination.
Another stressor is family. My parents have both had health issues and my mom may have Alzheimer’s. Losing her personality before her body dies and the obvious stress on my dad. I am not close with my family because they are not nice to me. It is best for me to avoid them. I crave closeness but accept that it will never happen.
I have good friends but my two closest friends are busy raising children so I try not to burden them with my sorrows. No romantic partner to lean on. I was injured in May and still dealing with the healing process. The injury hurt so much today that I couldn’t do chores.
I still cry on occasion about Momo. I’m not a freak about animals (too much time spent on a farm) but she was a good companion. She wanted me around. The kitten is sweet, she does like to cuddle. Perhaps I can’t choose a name because I’m afraid of losing her, too.
I’m feeling a bit adrift at sea.
© 2010
I resigned in April from a job where I liked most of my co-workers (didn’t like the hours being cut to part-time with no benefits) and took another job that I had been warned by two previous employees to avoid. I did not heed their advice because I wanted full time work. I had quickly realized that it was not a good fit and was already seeking another position but the transition occurred faster than I anticipated. Fired in July. I now am filled with anxiety and a touch of depression. Not a good combination.
Another stressor is family. My parents have both had health issues and my mom may have Alzheimer’s. Losing her personality before her body dies and the obvious stress on my dad. I am not close with my family because they are not nice to me. It is best for me to avoid them. I crave closeness but accept that it will never happen.
I have good friends but my two closest friends are busy raising children so I try not to burden them with my sorrows. No romantic partner to lean on. I was injured in May and still dealing with the healing process. The injury hurt so much today that I couldn’t do chores.
I still cry on occasion about Momo. I’m not a freak about animals (too much time spent on a farm) but she was a good companion. She wanted me around. The kitten is sweet, she does like to cuddle. Perhaps I can’t choose a name because I’m afraid of losing her, too.
I’m feeling a bit adrift at sea.
© 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)