She’s Moved On And So Should You

Her crossed arms answered her question before she spoke.

She didn’t have to speak. The look on her face. The trademark crossed arms. Her favored one hip stance. All did the speaking for her.

Disappointment.

“It’s just been such a long week. And I really want to get to the airport,” I tried to explain. Twisting in my chair.

“But what about dinner? You have to eat, ” my grandmother said.

Leaning forward, I tried to justify my actions. “But Anna is so exhausted. I am, too. I’m so sorry. I know we promised but I want to avoid the traffic. We’ll pick up something quick on the way.”

Silence.

“Do you think you’ll be back for Thanksgiving?” she asked, eyebrows raised. Hopeful.

“I’m not sure,” I said, letting my voice trail off. I knew I wouldn’t. Maybe Christmas. Maybe next spring. But I was tired of the 1200 mile journeys. I wanted a break.

“It’s OK,” my sister chimed in, “I’ll bring the kids by next week and we can have lunch.” Trying to come to my rescue. It’s little consolation. I’m the one who lives so far away.

Then we said our goodbyes. And watched her on the driveway with her arms crossed. Not smiling, yet trying not to look disappointed.

Twelve years later the image haunts me.

“You have to stop beating yourself up over this,” my sister says to me over the phone.

I shift uncomfortably. I close my eyes. “I know. But I can’t.”

“There was no way you could know she was going to die. No one knew. She was always so vibrant. Even the doctor didn’t see it coming.”

“But I should have at least had dinner with her like we promised,” my eyes watering remembering my last broken promise to her. “I never even called her. That was the last time we spoke.”

“She’s moved on and so should you.” My sister is tired of this conversation. So am I. But that image of her still haunts me. That last image.

“Do you really think she’s forgiven me?” I ask, standing up now, watching a cardinal on our birdfeeder.

“Yes. She forgave you moments after you left,” my sister sighs into the phone.

“Ok. Thanks.” Not convinced, I hang up the receiver. And walk to the window to watch the birds flit back and forth. Leaning on one hip. Brow furrowed.

And arms crossed.

(This post was inspired by KitchWitch’s post which was inspired by the writing prompt at Write On Edge. Please visit Write on Edge   for more inspired writing!)

Please Say That Tyler’s Story Will Change Just One Heart

Yesterday, I posted the faces of Dharun Ravi and Molly Wei in my anger. Angry at them for their callous disregard of our right to privacy. I wanted everyone to see who pushed Tyler Clementi over the edge. I want their faces to be known so that they can’t “just move” to avoid recognition.

Yesterday, I was angry.

Today, I am sad. So very, very sad that a beautiful human being has left this earth. A violinist. A student. A friend. A son.

I want to tell his parents how very, very sorry I am that they lost their son so tragically. I want to tell them I can’t imagine the pain and loss they are suffering. I want to tell them to “just breathe.”

Maybe it’s because of the losses I have endured these past few weeks. Maybe it’s because I lost a dear high school friend to suicide during our first month of college. Maybe I am hoping upon hope that Tyler’s death will be a wake-up call to every amateur videographer out there.

Just maybe.

“Yes, I understand that every life must end, aw-huh,..
As we sit alone, I know someday we must go” – But this was much too soon. And I ache knowing that Tyler felt so desperate, so alone, that he felt his only choice was suicide. And I can only imagine the pain and heartache those close to him (most of all, his parents) are feeling. Such guilt for not helping. Unneccessary guilt, unfounded guilt. But guilt, nonetheless.

“Oh I’m a lucky man, to count on both hands
the ones I love,..
Some folks just have one,
yeah, others, they’ve got none” – I am so blessed to have an amazing support system. And Tyler’s death reminds me of those out there who have precious few in their lives to turn to. I wish my arms were long enough to reach them all.

“Let’s just breathe” – We can only do what we can do. We can love our children with all our might. We can remember those in times of need. We can cling to our spouses, lovers or friends. But some days it’s all we can do to just breathe.

I chose to write about this again today because many of you commented that you were unaware of Tyler’s story. Tyler Clementi deserves more press, more than Ravi and Wei, that is. His is the spirit that was shattered. His is the life that was ended.

Nothing can bring Tyler back. But maybe his story will reach through the internet and touch hearts. Maybe it will turn hearts and change just one soul out there, encouraging kindness, compassion and most of all, privacy.

I Grieve. Or I Am A Rock. Take Your Pick.

 Two weeks ago, my brother-in-law died.

Yesterday was the anniversary of my daughter’s boyfriend’s death.

Today, my aunt died.

It’s been a rough few weeks. To make matters worse, my aunt wasn’t doing well for the past week or so and I had no idea. She lives over 2000 miles away and we kept in touch through emails and holiday cards. My parents knew. But chose not to tell me. (Dysfunction is alive and well in my family.) I already live with the regret of my last visit with my grandmother. And while I feel good about how I maintained my relationship with my aunt, it bothers me in this moment that I didn’t get the chance to talk to her one more time. If I had known she wasn’t doing well, I would have called her. She’s not the type to email me and tell me she’s suffering. And I had no idea.

“I grieve for you
You leave me
Let it out and move on
Missing what’s gone
They say life carries on
They say life carries on and on and on” – The grief in me misses the relatives and friends who have passed. This part of life sucks. Losing people. Good people. People who are loving, kind, fill you with joy. And because I’m getting older I’m in for more loss. How do you reconcile that? How to adjust? We carry on. But with more lonely moments than before.

 

“I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.” – Anger. At my parents for cutting me off like this. Punishing me for not playing by their rules. Anger at the loss I’ve experienced and the more to come. I will get through this. But for now I want to be an island. I want to never cry. I want to feel no pain.

 

Or

Take your pick.

I’ll Stand By You

“Oh, why you look so sad?
Tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now
Don’t be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
’cause I’ve seen the dark side too” – Six months ago my daughter’s boyfriend died. She called me to her bedroom and when I opened the door she said, “Mommy, please don’t be mad at me. Phil is dead.” My mind started racing. Why would I be angry? Who is playing this terrible joke on my daughter? She burst into tears and started sobbing uncontrollably. I was in denial. How could this be? He just had dinner with us last weekend.

“When the night falls on you
You don’t know what to do
Nothing you confess
Could make me love you less” – Phil had been addicted to Oxycontin. It was the reason for their break-up many times. I had no idea. A week before she had put her foot down and said she couldn’t deal with it anymore. It was the drugs or her. He chose her. He went off cold turkey. And died four days later from complications of withdrawal. The only people who knew he was quitting were her and two of his closest friends. Because withdrawal symptoms mimic the flu that’s all his parents thought he had. A common flu.

“So if you’re mad, get mad
Don’t hold it all inside
Come on and talk to me now
Hey, what you got to hide?” – She felt guilt. She felt anger. She felt tremendous loss. The pain she felt doesn’t even begin to describe. Her first love. Gone. At age 17. She withdrew from me, from us, from life.

“When you’re standing at the crossroads
And don’t know which path to choose
Let me come along
’cause even if you’re wrong
I’ll stand by you” – I wanted to be there for her. She was so lost. And so was I. But she pushed me away. Angry and ashamed. She felt that I would never trust her again. She felt she could never trust herself to make good decisions again.

“And when…
When the night falls on you, baby
You’re feeling all alone
You won’t be on your own” – I wanted to be there for her. I wish I had been there for Phil. He was such a bright, amazing young man. He treated my daughter like she was a princess. He was funny and smart and kind. So gentle with her little brothers, setting up train tracks, admiring their pictures that they drew. How could I have not seen it? Or even suspected? I used to teach teenagers. I know what to look for. I was completely in the dark. And my daughter was shouldering this burden all on her own.

“I’ll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you” – She has worked through much of the pain. It still hurts. But it’s getting better. She talks to me more. She’s even made a major shift with friends and who she spends her time with most. She was tested recently with a friend going in the same direction as Phil. When I asked what was going on she said, “I have to worry about me. They have to want to quit. I can’t do that for them. So we don’t hang out anymore.” Such a hard lesson for her to have to learn. Such a horrible way to have to learn it.

“I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you” – I hope she knows that no matter what she’s dealing with I’m here for her. There’s nothing she can do or say that will ever push me away. Nothing. Ever. She’s my sweet, adorable angel. Forever my daughter. Forever the light of my life. I want to protect her. I never want her to hurt that way ever again. But if she does, I’m here to hold her, share in the tears and boost her up when she needs strength.

(Educate yourself. I had no idea this new favorite drug among teens was so highly addictive. And so easy to obtain. Nor did I know that withdrawal should only be done under medical supervision. If you have teens or pre-teens in your home and your school offers drug education seminars for parents, GO! Even if you think your children are immune to such temptations. You may learn valuable information that could save one of their friends.)

Group Hug Through the Bloggysphere

(Sad alert – do not read if your Christmas spirit will be in jeopardy – you have been warned!)

I spent so much time and energy wrapping myself up in the Christmas spirit and trying to be upbeat and positive about the upcoming season. But frankly, something was weighing heavy on my mind. And since Christmas is behind us I’m allowing myself to let the sadness in.

Allowing myself. Because I honestly would stop the thoughts from entering my pretty little head as soon as they would surface. I know, for many of you out there, the holiday season is NOT a joyful time. Sometimes this holiday brings bad memories out from hiding. Or you’ve lost loved ones at this time. Or it’s your first, second, tenth – whatever- year without a loved one.

Our family suffered two loses this year. One sudden. One expected. I ache for my side of the family that lost our dear aunt/mother/grandmother. She was ill for a long time. We knew the end was near. But it doesn’t make the loss any easier. And her family. This first Christmas without her. Her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren miss her so much. She was my great-aunt and I didn’t see her as often as I would have liked. But she was a beautiful role model to me about what a mom should be, how to live life with humor, giggles and joy. She taught me amazing life lessons and I hate it that she’s gone.

The other loss I still struggle with. And he wasn’t even my boyfriend or my child. As some of you may remember, my daughter lost her boyfriend at the start of the school year. Senseless. Sudden. Tragic. Only 17 years old. The funeral was so difficult. Giving my condolences to the parents? Heart wrenching. They were being forced to do what every parent dreads. The unimaginable. Having to bury your own child. Throughout this Christmas season, as I’d shop for my daughter, something would remind me of her loss. Then I’d think of his parent’s loss. I’d start to ache for them, beginning to imagine what it must be like to have to shop for one child when your other child is gone. And I’d stop. Suddenly. And chase those thoughts right out of my head. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go there. And I haven’t. Until now.

I’m aching right now. For the loss that was easier to handle. For my daughter’s tragic loss of her first love. For those poor parents trying to weather through their first Christmas without their son while putting on a happy face for the son still here. And for all of you who struggle through this time of year without those you love.

Death is difficult for me. Loss of any kind is difficult for me. Loss sucks. And I suppose I could say, “Oh, but if we didn’t experience loss then we wouldn’t know the value of what we have.” Or maybe, “It’s all God’s plan.” But I don’t want to hear that right now. I might someday. But not now. Now I’m just going to be sad.

I candy coated my 2009 holiday season and made it to today. But today, in the afterglow (or is it aftermath?), I’m feeling a little empty. And I don’t have any words of wisdom or upbeat outlooks. I’m all out of them. I used them up in the weeks leading up until now. I’m just sad. Sad for me. Sad for my daughter. Sad for my family. Sad for dear boyfriend’s family. Sad for all of you who are hurting.

I’m so, so sorry for any of you hurting out there. I’m reaching out my arms right now, through the bloggysphere, so we can have a group hug.

Sigh.

That’s a little better.

Tunes for Tuesday – Don’t Worry, Be Happy!

“Here is a little song I wrote
You might want to sing it note for note
Don’t worry be happy” – Everyone’s life contains sadness. Our home got another dose. My Great Aunt died last night. But please don’t be too sad for her, for us. She was sick. She was tired of living in a body that was failing her. When we last talked she told me she was ready.

“In every life we have some trouble
When you worry you make it double
Don’t worry, be happy……” – And this was her philosophy EXACTLY. What’s the point of worrying. Life stinks sometimes. It’s how you work through life that builds character, makes you a person worth knowing.

“Here I give you my phone number
When you worry call me
I make you happy” –  She was someone you could turn to. She gave great advice. She was so very, very wise.

“But don’t worry be happy
Cause when you worry
Your face will frown
And that will bring everybody down
So don’t worry, be happy” – Her laughter is what I’ll miss most. She could make ANYTHING funny. She taught me to think out of the box and look at things upside down. The bright side is the right side. Always looking up. She didn’t deny loss or sadness or crisis. She just saw a way around it. She got to the other side quicker than most.

“There is this little song I wrote
I hope you learn it note for note
Like good little children
Don’t worry, be happy” – Out of all my relatives she was the best teacher for me on how to parent. She has four children and grandchildren who absolutely adore her. In a post on Facebook today, her youngest son called her his best friend. And I know her other children feel the same way.

“Don’t worry don’t do it, be happy
Put a smile on your face” – And that’s just what I’m going to do today. I think of this song and listen to it whenever I need to turn myself around. Hope you find something to smile about today, too. Put those worries away and smile with me. 

(When you click on the video below you’ll see a message directing you to Youtube. Click the “Watch on Youtube” and it’ll take you right there!)

Tunes for Tuesday – Here It Goes Again

I know this is a bit of an oldie. I’m sharing it again for those of you who missed it during its first trip around the internet. It always makes me giggle and the words are so perfect!

I don’t like living for the future. You know what I mean, “If I can just make it ’till the weekend” or “Tomorrow will be a better day.” There are times in my life when I look at my calendar and don’t see a free moment for days. “Just hold on until next week Thursday.” I hate it when life gets like that.

And then I think of the Rosanne Rosannadanna skits. It’s Always Somethin’. And it is, isn’t it? We’re always running two steps ahead of disaster. Choices that seem to make or break us.

And then I was reminded of this song by Ok Go. Not only do I love the video; I love the lyrics.

“Just when you think you’re in control,
just when you think you’ve got a hold,
just when you get on a roll,
Oh here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again.” – Life was going smoothly. But crazy, as usual. And my in-laws were in town. I had carpool for the entire week because of a mistake I made the week before. But things were slowing down and I was about to get my house back after my in-laws left in a few days.

“I should have known,
should have known,
should have known again,
But here it goes again.
Oh, here it goes again.” – Now, I couldn’t have predicted what would come next. Who could have? The day before my in-laws were to leave my daughter’s boyfriend dies. Tragedy hits our house heavier than I would have ever expected.

“It starts out easy, something simple, something sleazy, something inching past the edge of reserve.
Now through the lines of the cheap venetian blinds your car is pulling off of the curb.
Hey!” – Blindsided. Completely caught off guard. Not the kind of thing most people run into as far as life’s detours go. But it was our own house of pain for a while.

“I guess there’s got to be a break in the monotony, but Jesus, when it rains how it pours.” – No kidding. Wait, that’s not strong enough……No s*#t!

“Oh here it goes again.
I should have known, should have known,
should have known again,
but here it goes again.
Oh, here it goes, here it goes.
Oh here it goes again.
I should have known, should have known,
but here it goes again.” – But things are better here. Every day gets a little better for my daughter. Yesterday, while checking in with all of you I overheard her laughing a good belly laugh on the phone with one of her friends. I’m so glad she taking back those moments of joy. But me? I’m just bracing myself for the next detour. Hopefully, we’ll be spared the more life altering ones for a little while.

(When you click on the video below you’ll see a message directing you to Youtube. Click the “Watch on Youtube” and it’ll take you right there!)

May You Rest In Peace, Sweet Boy

This is not supposed to happen to MY baby girl. This happens to you other mothers out there. Not that I wish it on you. Of course not. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. But I’m just as bad as you teenagers out there. Thinking you’re invincible. Thinking that you’re so grown up. Thinking life won’t throw you devastating curve balls.

A sweet, kind, funny, adorable soul left this earth tonight and he was just 17. A senior in high school. His whole life ahead of him. And my daughter loved him. With all her heart. Her first “true love.”

I’m shocked. This CAN’T be happening. This happens in the movies. On TV. To other people. Not me. How do you help your daughter through something like this? I want to fix it. Rewind the tape. Stop all this from happening. Why? Why? Why?

I’m angry. How dare you take a piece of my daughter’s heart and then steal it away, never to give it back? How dare you treat your life so carelessly? Life is a precious gift. You threw your life back at God’s face. My daughter will never get to say goodbye, tell you how much she loved you ever again.

I’m scared. I want my daughter even closer now. Why do our children have to grow away from us? Make decisions that are risky, wrong, damaging? Why can’t we keep them close? Help them with EVERY stage? Keep them from every harm. Ward off danger. Wrap them in bubble wrap. Hold their tender hands always.

Go. Right now. Kiss your children. Tell them you love them. I don’t care what age they are. I don’t care if they pull away from you ’cause they’re at that embarrassed stage. You squeeze them. You hold them. You guide them. You play with them. Each minute with them is a precious gift. Don’t you ever forget that.

Tunes for Tuesday – Without You (Rent)

I’ll never forget when my grandmother died. It was very sudden. She was an amazing woman. So bright and energetic and fun. She had this amazing calendar, in her head, of every birthday of anyone who was important to her. She knew every  President and First Lady’s birthday that had served in her lifetime. She knew my ex-boyfriend’s birthdays. And her birthday cards to us always arrived exactly on that day, except Sunday of course. But it always amazed me how she timed it to arrive – no matter where in the country we lived, no matter how unreliable mail service can be – exactly on time.

My sister called  from 1000 miles away to tell me. I was so stunned but I had a little girl and I had to keep going. I remember I had to run to the store.

“Without you, the seeds root
the flowers bloom
the children play
The stars gleam
the poets dream
the eagles fly
without you” –  As I was driving to the store other people were driving, running stop signs, children were playing on the lawn, the wind even dared to continue to blow. I couldn’t believe the sun was shining. Didn’t they know my grandmother had just died?

“The Earth turns
the sun burns
but I die, without you” – I actually felt a piece of me missing. And I had so much regret. My last image of her was her standing, with her arms crossed across her chest, in front of her house as we drove away. We had visited, but not as long as we said we would. And we had cancelled dinner with her, wanting to get to the airport a little sooner without having to rush. She was disappointed. She was trying not to show it. But I still die a little each time I remember. The last afternoon I spent with her I disappointed her. I took for granted that I would be able to make it up to her on the next trip.
“The world revives
colors renew
but I know blue
only blue
lonely blue
willingly blue
Without you” – My world has been a little empty without her. I miss her feisty nature. Her quick, political banter. She was a die-hard Democrat. I swear I boned up on the Republican issues just so I could spar with her. She died just before the Bush/Gore election. How she would have loved watching them count chads. I missed her so much that Thanksgiving.

“Without you, the eyes gaze
the legs walk
the lungs breathe
The mind churns
the heart yearns
the tears dry without you” – She died 9 years ago and some days, like today, it feels like yesterday. I still dream about her. I think of her every time I see a cardinal or work a crossword puzzle. I drink coffee out of a cup that reminds me of her. I hate it that she never met the two little boys named after her husband and her son.
“Life goes on
but I’m gone
’cause I die, without you
without you” – I have experienced other loss in my life but her death hit me the hardest. For days after she died I honestly couldn’t believe that people were just going about their lives as if nothing had happened. Didn’t they know that a beautiful soul had just left this earth? Didn’t they know that Elsie was gone and the family and friends that loved her  were deeply grieving?

I still miss you so much, Grandma. So very, very, very much.