Grief

 

You’d think I’d be an old hand at grief by now.

 

My mother, who passed away in 2009, spent the last months of her life on hospice in our home. She had many difficult times throughout her life. She raised six children during challenging financial circumstances. As I mentioned in a previous post, her marriage to my father was not easy. She didn’t drive and depended on him a great deal. At the time, I didn’t understand how hard it must have been for her when he passed away.

 

My son, Joe, passed away 16 years ago from colon cancer. He was 34 years old—newly married, with their first child on the way when he was diagnosed. I have written through this loss for 16 years.

 

Ross was a magical time in my life. I have written hundreds and hundreds of words about this amazing man. In 2019, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I was his caregiver until he passed away in 2024.

 

Of course, there have been other losses. They are all sad, each in its own way. None can be compared to another.

 

Needless to say, my son’s passing probably hit me the hardest.

 

Now that I am a widow, though, I have gained an enormous amount of understanding, compassion, and respect for my mother. I feel her presence every day now. It’s as if she is here, supporting me as only a mother can.

Four Letter Words

 

I believe I'm a little unique.  I never use curse words.  They just are not part of my vocabulary.  

 

I'm not just talking about the ones that prime-time network television won't allow.  

 

No, no, I mean words like hell and damn, or bathroom humor words. Oh my, it took a lot to even write those.   

 

Perhaps it has something to do with me being the oldest of six.  Along with being my parent's experiment, like eldest kids are, I was probably also the most well behaved.   I did what I was told and tried not do what I shouldn't.  

 

Or maybe it was my Catholic upbringing.  You know having to confess such things, starting at age 7. 

 

At this point if anyone close to me heard any of those words come out of my mouth, they would probably be shocked and stare at me wordlessly. 

 

Now don't get me wrong, I'm okay with others using colorful language.  In fact, I appreciate the impact the most famous "F" word can have. 

I do understand it.  There are moments when those words seem to say exactly what nothing else quite can. 

 

The past few years have been tough for me. I probably have caregiver’s PTSD along with some pent-up emotions that go along with it. 

 

My sister recently advised me to try letting go a little. She said it's very @#$%ing freeing!

 

Perhaps I will go to the ocean one day and try it out. 

 

 

 Engrossed

I tend to get totally immersed in whatever my passion is at the moment.

When I am engrossed in something, the world around me fades away.  I can spend hours engaged and may get a little prickly if I am interrupted. Maybe it's an introvert thing. 

As a child it was books.  In fourth grade I even won a prize, probably a book, for reading the most in a school year.  The books were most likely Nancy Drew mysteries.  

My favorite time of year was summer.  I loved being outside, sitting under a tree, eating a peach and reading. Sometimes I would be so absorbed that my mother would have to call several times before even I heard her. 

Over the years I've had many interests.  From Macramé to terrariums, (bottle gardens). 

Knitting and crochet were my most steady passions throughout my adult life.  

Although he didn't knit or crochet my husband was my knitting buddy.  He'd come with me to the stores to help me pick out yarn.  He'd accompany me to all of the yarn festivals and was my co-host on my knitting podcast.  After he passed away, I lost interest in knitting and crochet.

These days I've moved on to drawing and watercolor painting.  I draw and paint every day. 

Doing the A-to-Z challenge has also brought me back to writing.  Out of all of the interests I've had, writing is where I feel most at ease.   As a painfully shy person, I find I can communicate more honestly, and with fewer inhibitions, when I write.  It engages my brain in a way nothing else quite does. 

I'll happily make an exception to my "no interruptions" rule to read your comments, though.