Time to Re-Purpose

It's been on my bookshelf for more than 20 years.

I thought of using its title as the "name" for this blog, but it's very long

How to Survive the Loss of a Love.  I would, of course, have to rename it.

How to survive the Loss of your Mother

Okay, I'm not an authority.  My mother has been gone for a very short time.  

And my losing her is a bit different.  I actually began to lose her about ten years ago - when we learned there were signs of dementia.  Fortunately, it was not until the last year or so that those same signs were evident. Sometimes if she didn't know what I was talking about, I could keep talking (or in our case writing on a whiteboard) and she would say something that let me know she remembered.

So I lost part of her way back but now I've lost the RESPONSIBILITY for my mother part of my life.

We learned that my dad had an incurable disease 20 years ago this summer.  That was a life-altering experience.  From then on I became my mother's person.

And now - that's in my past - my not too distant past - that's true.  But it's time for me to regroup - and I'm not at all sure how that's going to work out.

This has not been a normal time for me.  One week past my mother's death, I tested positive for Covid.  And even if I had not been ill (I thought I might die before I got better), I have no wheels at the moment so I couldn't go anywhere.  I felt TRAPPED.

Not just emotionally, but also physically.

As I began to recover, I felt unsettled.  So I wrote thank you notes.  Then I didn't have enough stamps (even though a sweet friend had included a book of stamps in a sympathy card).  I texted another friend and ask if she could make a Publix run that included stamps.

AMAZING.  I felt so much better once those thank you notes were in the mail.

I have had some time this week to catch up on an  Anne Voskamp Bible study, WAYMAKER.  As I watched, Session 4, I had an epiphany.  Anne spoke of the fact that we often have a default direction which means when something is awry our tendency is to turn to a negative solution.  And as she continued my thoughts turned to a positive way to deal with what I was feeling.  

I was sad.  I was a bit confused.  I was grumpy.

And then I found myself being a bit creative.     This is an expression of sympathy from my high school friends.  I wanted to continue to enjoy it - but could find no place where it "fit". 

So I re-purposed it  

Do I think these will survive?  Maybe not.  One thing I did not inherit was my mother's ability with plants and flowers.  

As I have said It's a good thing I can write a little.

And how am I surviving the loss of my mother?  I'm finishing a task and I am being creative. 

 I'll let you know as I find more ways to re-purpose.

May your life have enough sunshine   

To make you appreciate the shadows

those little black patent leather shoes

For my mother's 97th birthday, we gave her a pair of black patent leather shoes.  

They were not little.  By that time in her life, she was sometimes wearing an 8.  The bunions on her toes were the issue.  She was excited as she opened the box and tried them on.

It was March 12, 2020.  The next day the world started to shut down.  And in some ways, I think that was the beginning of my very social mother's decline.  The Westminister Staff arranged twice weekly facetime visits for me with her.  She really didn't get this no visits from Paula business.  She tried to hear and Jenny helped as she could but it just wasn't the same as a face-to-face.

It was several months before my siblings, her sisters, and our children could visit her.  We often met outside the Health Care Center.  Once I wheeled her over to a dock where she was greeted by my son and his family.  They were in a boat. shhhh.

Sometimes she would mention those shoes. When was she going to get to wear them again?  I guess I thought  - well never.

For mother's 99th birthday, I bought her a pretty sweatshirt and some new black slacks. I went to her room to help her get ready for our family who would come to greet her.

We had been in the atrium at Westminster only a short while when my mother scowled.  

I had forgotten to change her shoes.

She was at a party.  She needed her little black patent leather shoes.  LITTLE black patent leather shoes.

So I went upstairs and. . . no shoes could be found. 

We learned that sometimes my mother would take some of her things and move them to another location.  More of her decline.  Did I see it?  Probably not.

And now they are now on a shelf in my garage.  The rest of her belongings are packed and ready to go to Goodwill.  Well, almost the rest. 

One other item is a size 12 pants suit that she loved.  The day before our mother's celebration of life, I asked one of my granddaughters if she could make it a size 8 in the next 28 hours.  

Too big an ask???

So I have these shoes - and an outfit - both too big for me - but neither that I am willing to give up.

I don't know why

It's not like I haven't had to do this before.  1998 - what to do with Rich's clothes?  I took them to a clothes closet that was operated by St Paul's Episcopal Church.  2009 - daddy's clothes were passed on to grandsons who could wear them and I think we took the rest to Goodwill.

When our mother was moved to a private room at Westminster, we brought her clothes and personal belongings to my garage.  They've been here for over a month.  All neat and packed and ready to go.

I imagine by my posting this I might get suggestions as to what to do with the shoes, the pantsuit, and even the boxes that are full of her clothes.

That's fine as long as no one thinks that not having the shoes, etc., will help me not miss my mother.

I'll let you know how it goes.

May your life have enough sunshine   

To make you appreciate the shadows

 

about being 75

From about June 8 through July 5 I kept saying

"75 years ago, my mother was waiting for me to be born - and now I am waiting for her to die".

Today is my 75th birthday. 

It is my first without her.  I hope she and daddy - and maybe Rich - are celebrating my birthday in Heaven.

On mother's 75th birthday, Rich said to her:

"I hope Paula will look as good as you do when she is 75".

(The photo is, of course, with daddy - I think Rich hoped I'd look at him that way as well!) 

When I was giving her permission to die on Tuesday, I asked her to tell him that I think I look okay.

I do feel very fortunate.  My Grandma Nesmith was 36 when she lost her mother.  My mother was 48 when Grandma Nesmith died.    

It is also very significant to me that it was 40 years ago this month when my children who were 4, 7, and 10 and I arrived on my parents' doorstep.  We were not usually with my family on one of my birthdays.  However - on July 11, 1982, my mother made a big deal over the fact that it was my birthday.  And for the next 38 years - she always wanted to be sure something was happening so that I was celebrated.

The throes of the Pandemic had a major effect on my mother.  The people person part of her was restricted. She lost part of who she was.

Last year Cindy and I went to see her a couple of days after my 74th birthday.  I took her a cupcake.  I told her it was my birthday, but she needed to be celebrated.  I'm not sure she comprehended it.  The 12 months since that day have been tenuous at best. Sometimes clear - others not so much.

The last month as we knew it was time - and watched and waited - was difficult.  'Can't be sugar-coated!

I do hope that today - she and daddy are celebrating - not just their firstborn’s 75th birthday - but the fact that she is happy, content, and plans to have a great day - with thanksgiving for her birth and her parents and the love and guidance they gave her.  Some of which will help her get through this strange time of having a birthday without her mother here to help her celebrate!

 And I hope at 99 I look as good as she did on May 6, 2022. 

May your life have enough sunshine     To make you appreciate the shadows