Happy Friday

The Wild

Last weekend, Dean discovered tree climbing (see him in there?). The combination of physical strength, a healthy degree of risk-taking, good sense about how to approach it safely, and a desire to be up in his own place culminated in many happy hours spent in the activity. We have pines like this all over our yard which really are just perfect for climbing; the branches start right from the base of the tree and fan out, all the way up, in just about boy-sized intervals.

It's fairly private in there, too. I have these plans in my head for how it would be possible to build a small platform up there, just big enough for 2 people to sit, with a pulley for bringing up the books, beverages, and snacks. Nothing as grandiose as a "house." And I actually think it would be safer without a railing (because I think that would give a false sense of safety and encourage standing when sitting would really be the purpose). I'm trying to decide if this is a case of my trying to over-engineer something and if it's better just to let Dean make his way in the trees as they are, or if having a perch up there would make for a more magical summer.

The forecast is calling for very cold temperatures toward the end of this week and into the weekend. The upside would be proper conditions for one more fire in the fireplace; the downside could be the shock to the poor plants that have been brave enough to send up shoots....

Warmer

This Friday we welcome the vernal equinox. With open arms. I am completely awed by the miracle of spring that's unfolding all around me; I think I am especially reveling in it because I especially need it this year. Rebirth. A fresh start.

It's in the quality of the light, the return of the birds, the bits of green coming through all around.

And it is in the absence of snow. There is still a bit of snow around the edges of our driveway, where the drifts were once as tall as me. But it's disappearing steadily.


Christmas Club members, I will be giving you a reminder and admitting that I wasn't up to it last month. I've been sewing quite a bit lately -- 2 pairs of fleece pants for Dean (yes! just in time for warmer weather.... Oh well!), a jacket for me (the wrong-season thing doesn't matter as much since I won't outgrow it, and I'm not talking about the silly one from my previous post), some small bags, a little quilt and bedding for a doll bed that's going to the school auction. Although none are for Christmas, they've got my sewing/crafting energies flowing and the Christmas stuff WILL follow. I'm going to attempt to learn to make ties -- one for Ken, one for Dean, and more if they work out all right. I've been saving up tins to decoupage for use as gift containers.


Dean's birthday is coming up in a few weeks; I've never been so far behind in getting ready for that. It's fortunate for me that planning a birthday party for a 12-year-old is a lot less complicated than those pony parties I used to give for him when he was younger, but I still feel bad about not being as on top of things as usual. His birthday is the same day as Easter this year, which also has to be prepared for and celebrated.


We were supposed to be heading to Chicago next month as well, to visit my brother and his family and to carry out a memorial service for my mom. For many complicated reasons, it's not going to happen -- my brother and I came to terms with the reality that the service we were envisioning wasn't going to happen (disheartening beyond words that the church in the parish where we lived for 20 years, where the 4 of us went to school, where my mom taught and worked tirelessly on behalf of the church just isn't interested in having us hold her service there -- one of several roadblocks). Also some very complicated family issues in play. I had been so focused on the service as the means for processing my grief, for celebrating her life and moving ahead, that I'm struggling now to figure out what to do with all of this instead.

The thing about me is that I am an intensely private person. I process the big stuff internally. Not even Ken has a clue as to what I've been going through for the past 5 weeks. The benefit of an open, public service to me would have been a way to bring it out and put it someplace in a healing way. We didn't have a service for my dad (also a complicated family issue, revolving around the same person who's made it so difficult this time) and I know that's left a piece unfinished for me all these years. So once again, I'll be dealing with this in a private way for my mom, not working it past my own head and out into the light. I was the one to scatter my dad's ashes and perhaps it will come down to that again this time. One of my brothers was with me when I fulfilled my dad's wish to have his ashes scattered in the Gulf of Mexico. Perhaps the other brother will be with me when we figure out the right thing to do for my mom (unlike my dad, she hadn't said that part).


Well. I am back to the beginning, so entirely grateful for the miracle of spring -- for the arrival of it just when I need it most.

Yes

People keep asking me how I'm doing. And I appreciate that. I appreciate the concern and the care. I just don't know what to say. I'm all right -- I get out of bed every day and I get showered and dressed in clean clothes. I go to work and I actually accomplish things -- I do my job. I've been doing better at making dinners. I'm eating. Sleeping isn't great, but that's not news.

The thing I can tell you about the pain of losing a parent is the acute sense of grief does ease with time. It gets to the point where you can acknowledge out loud, even to people you hardly know, that your mom passed away, and that, yes, your dad died a few years ago. But the fundamental hole in your heart does not go away, and it's another level of depth, of sadness, once you're an orphan.

Even there, I know I have been fortunate. I know people who lost both their parents when they were much, much younger than I am -- people for whom "orphan" was really true in a more fundamental way.

So here I am. I get through the days and sometimes I smile and Dean makes me laugh pretty regularly. Just figuring out what comes next, and how I get there.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to catch up on all the things I've let slip. I started falling behind in December, to be honest, and am not quite out of that hole yet. I'm trying also to clean up and clean out stuff in the house.

Can you blame me, really, for culling a bunch of scraps to make this jacket? Do you dare me, actually, to wear it out in public?

Yes, we still have that much snow. No, it's not too cold today -- about 40 degrees f. Yes, I'm smiling. (Photography by Dean)

Words, and pictures, though not necessarily connected

We've all been hearing for a while now about how chicken soup has real medicinal qualities, that eating a piping hot bowl really will help cure your cold.

I now also firmly believe in the emotional healing power of baking chocolate chip cookies, and eating some while they are still warm out of the oven. Taking the time to bake with Dean was big; I just haven't been able to rally for much of anything lately, haven't been cooking much, haven't been very hungry. But we had a snow day yesterday and I knew we needed the project together, AND the cookies. Wow. What a world of difference.


Here's an interesting place I've just arrived in mourning the loss of my mom. I have regrets -- many regrets. And that has been crushing me, the weight of those regrets. But then, I suddenly realized, she had regrets, too. We both had things we would have done over differently. So now that we can't -- neither of us can without both of us here -- I can move ahead knowing that simply we still loved each other deeply. That even with our imperfections, what stood up over time was love. That's what I need to focus on. What lasted and remained true, regardless.

Sigh.
(Try clicking on this one to see it larger -- "Outbound to Wonderland" -- my favorite sign in the entire Boston public transportation system.)

I'm thinking about my relationship with Dean very much in all of this experience.

We were both born in the Year of the Tiger (1962 and 1998) in the Chinese calendar, and this is the Year of the Tiger (2010). I'm trying to think about how to celebrate that, what we can make of it. Seems like an opportunity worth seizing, somehow.


And speaking of having been born in 1962, it was just my birthday last week. Natalie sent me flowers -- wasn't that a wonderful thing for her to do? They are still a breath of spring, brightening the whole kitchen.

In the overall birthday department though it was pretty crappy, given the timing. And, how can I put this -- I'm wondering why it is that both my parents had to pass away right before my birthday.

I used to truly love February. It featured my birthday, which I always used to adore, it has Valentine's Day, it's the time of winter when you do start to see signs of spring -- even if only the lengthening of the day. Oh sure, most people find it hard to say nice things about February, but I was a staunch supporter. Now.... Not so much. I find myself dreading my birthday, and not because of the aging thing (that's never bothered me a whit). I don't want to have to face February every year and these two sad anniversaries. Oy.

There are 11 other months of the year, I have 3 siblings all born in various months -- couldn't the grief have gotten spread around a little bit? It has been hard for the past 11 years to work my way past the anniversary of my dad's death in order to feeling up for anything by my birthday, and now I just can't even imagine. Oh well. Maybe it was time to grow up about it.


One good thing that happened on my birthday is that after Dean and I finished his observation of seahorses at the aquarium (for a school report), Ken came to meet us and after lunch,


we went to see Ultimate Wave Tahiti in Imax 3D. If this film plays near you (especially in 3D) I highly recommend you go see it. I don't imagine that I'll ever get to Tahiti in my lifetime, but this film gave me such an incredibly real sense of the place. I wouldn't say that I have an interest in surfing, but the film made it fascinating. It very much highlights the spiritual culture and beauty of Tahiti. I'm still waiting for my birthday margarita, for my birthday dinner at a Mexican restaurant, and my birthday cake. Hopes are not high.


I'm tired. Are you tired? I am deeply, could-fall-asleep-at-any-minute tired.

Dave, with whom I work at school, is the skip of his curling team. How cool is that? He brought in his rock and broom and shoes (and even his special pants and his special jacket with his name on it and his championship patch). Trying to imagine how we're going to handle Olympic withdrawal.

Adrift

I just wanted to say that I am here, and how deeply thankful I am for all your kind words. Even saying that you don't know what to say but that you care is meaningful and comforting. I haven't been able to bring myself to do much of anything for the past 6 days, but I'm trying to get myself moving today.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

It's hard to find the words, or even to think of what to say. Deep breath.

Yesterday morning, my mom passed away. This was not what any of us was expecting. She'd been in the hospital because she'd been having difficulty breathing, but the doctors were delighted with the progress she was making. (We learned, once she was admitted to the hospital, that she had COPD -- none of us, including her, realized that.) I had mentioned how difficult January was -- my brother and I had moved her from Seattle back to Chicago (where my brother lives, where we are from) because she'd been left just completely alone and unable to care for herself. But it all seemed to be working out -- she was now living with family who loved her and doted on her, she was able to be with her great-grandchildren, and we were all working together on plans for visits. My brother called an ambulance one morning because she just wasn't breathing well at all.

She was scheduled to be released from the hospital yesterday to an interim care facility, to help her transition from the breathing support/therapy she'd been receiving in the hospital to the level of care that could/should happen in a home setting. My brother had been asking the doctors from the beginning if I needed to fly out right away at any time, and he'd been told there was absolutely no need and that she'd be back home again soon. But in the early morning hours yesterday she had difficulty breathing, and as they were working to set her up to receive oxygen, her heart failed.

I spoke with her on Monday. I had just no idea that it would be our last conversation. I told her I loved her -- I always told her that, and she told me she loved me too, as always. The hole in my heart is unfathomably deep. I feel utterly adrift. My brother has so wisely been talking with me about all the hidden blessings -- that we got her out of her apartment in Seattle where, without care, she would have died alone, that she didn't have a long, drawn-out period of suffering, that she knew how very much she was loved and that she did have her last 20 days on earth surrounded by family.

But I didn't get to say goodbye, and I know how hard that's going to be to have to live with. I'm glad that I did call her every single week, that I'd send her pictures and packages, that I never missed a birthday or holiday. But it's hard not to think of how much more I could have done, and to regret not simply going out to Chicago just because she was in the hospital.

In my dream, we are going to spend the day together at the Art Institute. We'll wander the galleries, we'll have lunch, we'll browse in the gift shop before heading outside to hold on to the lion's tail for a moment to feel the vibration from the traffic on Michigan Avenue (which we know is REALLY the spirit of the lion). We'll remember how many times we walked up and down this particular stretch of the city, back and forth to ballet classes, to Christmas shopping at Marshall Field's, and that time I first got glasses in 7th grade and was so overjoyed and amazed to see that you could ACTUALLY see all the branches in the trees on the street. We'd have years ahead of us.

You make the call

Dean tells me that "skedaddle" and "hootenanny" have been officially dropped from the dictionary. He feels that "skedaddle" is a loss but feels no pain over "hootenanny." I think both cases are tragic; such colorful, uniquely American words being lost. I'll just have to try to work both in to as much of my conversation as possible. (You have been warned.)

Meanwhile, if you haven't seen this yet, please watch it. For me, for yourself. It is a TED video of Stuart Brown, talking about the importance of play. Better, even, than the Ken Robinson one (but do watch if you haven't seen it).

Then tell me when you're going to start playing.

[edited to add: I should have said up front -- to 'skedaddle' is to leave quickly; a 'hootenanny' is both a party with music and dancing -- usually folk/square dancing, and it also means the word that you can't think of at the moment -- as in, "hand me that hootenanny over there!" People now more commonly use "thingamajig" or "whatsit" or "thingamabob." Also, my further research has shown that while some references put 'skedaddle' as a term coined during the American Civil War, other sources put it as having derived from earlier Scottish/Irish/English terminology.]

Still one of my favorite pictures

I miss you, dad, and I'm thinking about you today. I think about you every day, to be honest, but this anniversary is always a hard one.

Daily mail

I realize that I've been trying to send more things, real things, in the regular mail so far this year. Notes, letters, tokens of affection. Things that can leave my hand and arrive in the hand of a loved one, a dear friend. I'm behind on a few packages, but working away at it. Did you know that "checking the mail" is still one of the daily things people most look forward to, even though it fairly rarely delivers real treasures? How's that for the strength of hope?

Delightful!

It's been a challenging January. January is the kind of month that can be hard all by itself, but this one's been especially tough.

But just as things were poised to end on fairly ugly terms, the skies have suddenly brightened.

First, I found out yesterday that I won the most delightful tote bag over on a blog I'd just recently discovered -- doe-c-doe. When she posted the photo of that bag I just fell in love, and now I've gone and had the good luck to win it. It is also just the kind of blog that I love, so it's cause for celebration all around.

Next, and I don't want to get too far ahead of things on this one, but I had an email from someone at a reputable publisher who's working on an alphabet book (digital photos taken by all levels of photographers) and -- see my "D" above? -- she's considering my image for the book! I'd participated in ABC-Along 2008 by taking 2 photos during roughly every 2 weeks that year. All my photos were taken outdoors, of natural things, and one was the letter form itself and one was something beginning with the letter. I have a free account on flickr and weirdly not all the images I originally posted are still there, but this D has survived and now apparently has some level of chance of ending up in a book.

Whether it pans out or not, I'm just so pleased to know that I was at least being considered.

And that's a pretty delightful way to say 'farewell' to January.

Rather than focus on the facts

On a day when we will be lucky if it warms up to 0 degrees f. with wind chill, I will carry this image in my heart to keep me going. And I will wear my warmest socks....

Is it me?

I am perennially interested in how things change, and especially in how things subtly, over time, change in ways that are fairly imperceptible at the time but when you look back you think -- yeah, wow, right! things really are different now!

I was thinking about this on a recent trip around blogland. I was thinking about how you really couldn't manage to blog not all that long ago without being tagged to do some kind of meme involving a list about yourself. I think at the time it was the collective realization that: ok, I'm here, I'm blogging, but I don't quite know what to say or how to say it. Being tagged to write a list both gave a sense of community AND something to write about (or at least a legitimate excuse to reveal things about yourself as a way of introducing yourself to so many strangers).

And then bloggers kind of collectively found their voices, and found how to reach out and maintain friendships without tagging, and here we are now with nary a tag in sight (or award? those seem to have gone by the wayside too). I think this is growth, I think it is good -- the other way was a good way to start, and now we've grown.

I've also noticed that bloggers, especially the big-time ones, seem suddenly much more thankful for their readers. I'm perceiving a shift from short of an expectation that "of course you're here and fascinated with what I have to say, although of course you also understand that you can't possibly expect me to respond to you" to "I realize how deeply grateful I am to you for being my audience, for helping me publish books/pursue a career/find my voice." I'm expressing this in an extreme kind of way to make my point -- but do you know what I mean? It seems an even kinder and more genuine community now than it did just a year or two ago.

Taking Risk

There I was, well on my way to total world domination (pink), when the boys (Dean, blue, and Ken, black) decided to call it quits. That's okay. As much as I generally have to say about how things are going to be different once I'm in charge of the world, fact is that it's really much more responsibility than I can handle.