May 9, 2021 § 2 Comments
That’s nice dear
It’s Mother’s Day 2021 and today, in Diane Zinna’s grief writing workshop, (www.dianezinna.com), for one hour, we will write what’s true for us. We are a group of gentle people who write our hearts out, to tell our stories, no matter how difficult or complicated our feelings are to translate into words.
Writing prompt: what were they like…
Writing time: 18 minutes
I am sitting on the grey leather sofa that is no longer in my living room. I dutifully call my mother to see how she is doing. She has been in the hospital more than seventeen times in less than two years, and at times, when she didn’t pick up the phone right away, I knew that she was probably back in the hospital. Past 90 years old, I knew that my sister, the doctor, was afraid to let her go but it was inevitable that one day she would not come back to her apartment at the Boca Raton independent living facility.
The telephone conversation would always be the same. I would ask her how she’s feeling and she would go on and on about her physical troubles that would cause her return to the hospital. I yearned for her to say that she saw a bluebird perched on the ledge of the window in the bright sunshine and she knew it was my Dad looking out for her.
I hoped that she was not afraid of passing. She knew that she could talk openly about that with me but never said a word. Instead, I would tell her about my sweet husband, his symptoms from severe dementia and how sad it made me. She would say “isn’t there something else we could talk about besides death?” My heart would be near my knees in defeat. What else could there be to talk about besides my impending losses on earth? I did see the cardinal in the tree but the sun was not shining. I tell her “I love you Mom” and she says “that’s nice dear.”
May 2, 2021 § Leave a comment
On Sunday afternoons, often you will find me grief writing with Diane Zinna (www.dianezinna.com). These hour-long online workshops include about twenty minutes of writing time to a specific writing prompt or two and sharpen our thoughtful listening skills when a few attendees read their words. This is an all together inspiring time.
As a widow, I will always count our ‘if only’ wedding anniversaries and this week would have been our fifteenth. I always think ‘you were supposed to be here.’ These words can bring me to tears but then I remember how sick he was and that is why he couldn’t stay for longer. No amount of yearning for him to be here, be here for me, could make a difference.
Today Diane was encouraging us to make a list of happy, joyful memories that are so painful to recall for they remind us of how much we’ve lost and our changed lives. Assignment: a list, maybe just a word or two. In memory of our anniversary, remembering the good times we shared feels like a celebration, an honor to what was and it is indeed painful.
We often talked about happy memories and I promised him that I would remember for us, when he no longer knew his own name. It doesn’t matter how many good times we shared, it wasn’t enough. Saddened, I looked at our photograph album and see that these are all the photos that will ever be, no time for just one more selfie.
The shared laughter comes through my writing today about glorious happy memories. Once again, I am reminded that love lives in the small stuff. How joyful simple lives can be! This is the wisdom about relationships that I wish someone had told me before now. Pass it on.