Monday, March 03, 2008

Take Me Home

It's been almost four months since my Mom passed away. I went home to her house today with one of my sisters and one of my brothers to begin the process of sorting through my Mom's things. We got a lot done. We cried. We sorted. We cried. We laughed. We sorted. We ate. We cried. And so it went. It seems that my Mom literally saved every card that people gave her. Ten kids - that's a lot of cards. We toyed with the idea of taking them and making a little bonfire on the beach down in NJ where she spent countless summers shielding her children's skin from sunburn (not always so successfully). What do you want for a bunch of Irish kids?

The truth is I haven't cried much of late. It's not that I'm not acutely aware of the fact that my Mom is gone, it's just I haven't had anything really spark the tears. Until I got off the highway and headed up to the traffic light to turn towards her home and the following played from the radio:

"I hear her voice in the morning
How she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And driving down the road
I get a feeling that I should have been home
Yesterday Yesterday"

I cried like I haven't since the day my Mom died. One of the birthday cards I had given her said "If love looked in the mirror, it would see my mother's face."

And she'd be smiling.

10 comments:

tsduff said...

Okay, you've posted a wonderful thing today. Your loss, and the words of John Denver combined make my memories well up in a painfully sweet mixed up ball. The process of walking through the empty days and months after losing a Mom - the sorting and dispensation of her beloved belongings between the remaining family members - the reminiscing, crying, laughing, eating.. all the things that go on during that time are part of the healing. I don't think it (the healing) is ever really accomplished... it just keeps on happening. Nice idea about the card bonfire - I hope you do it.
xoxo

Jeff said...

Aw G-wiz, now you got me all choked up.

That gathering with your sister sounds both sad and sweet at the same time. And I'm guessing that cry felt good.

Mo'a said...

It is good to cry and laugh with those you love...and the ones who knew your Mother as well as you did.
I love the saying you found on a card...it describes my Mother in spades.
Thursday will be her 85th Birthday...I feel lucky to still have her.
My heart goes out to you.
I owe you an e-mail...you know that you are always welcome.

Theresa said...

It's good to let the sorrow out, but it can't be forced. It has to happen when the time is right, and it looks like that song was what it took. The card bonfire is a great idea, kind of a letting go ceremony. I'll be thinking of you and hoping it all gets better soon.

G said...

Terry, you've said it so perfectly. I think the healing is a process that never completely ends, but the edges are softened over time. We do intend to do the bonfire to send her notes onward. Thanks for your sweet note - your comments are such a comfort. xox


Jeff, aw here, have a tissue - I have a cold now to boot, so I have plenty at the ready. The day ended up being cathartic in many ways and I also felt honored to be able to help put my Mom's things in order. Thanks my friend.


Mo'a, you are so very right. Nobody appreciates it as much as those who've shared the same love and starting point.

Your mother sounds so lovely from any little snippet that you've shared about her and your Dad. Happy Birthday to your Mom and all good things for you both. No email owed. I have felt welcome from the moment that I met you. You're such a dear person. Thanks Mo'a.


Theresa, thank you so much. It's so true, sometimes the emotions get forced down in the day to day business of living. Being back in the familiar environment of visiting my Mom just sparked it with those words. Thanks, your visits here always leave a bit or warmth.

ariel said...

This post made me want to cry, too, geez... You are blessed for having a relationship like that with your mother.

Tom & Icy said...

This was sad. It seems that every time I go to shave I see my mother looking back at me because I have her facial features.

the frogster said...

You know my story, G.

I think that anything you do or don't do and whatever you feel or don't feel is okay. This is hard, and it is sad, and it is weird. I feel like I'm going in circles sometimes with the process, but I think that's okay.

Thinking of you.

G said...

Ariel, it's a sad thing, letting go. But we let go a little each day here on Earth. At the end of the day, I was blessed. Yes.


Tom&Icy, yeah it was a sad day, but I felt honored to help put my Mom's things in some order.

I hope that you smile once in a while as you shave.

Frogster, I do, and so you know of what I speak, unfortunately.

Thanks for your words of support. Intuitively I know that, but it's good to hear. Thinking of you too my friend.

weirsdo said...

That is very sweet and sad.
For quite a while after my dad's death music could make me miss him a lot, which led to some embarrassing crying during performances of, for example, Faure's Requiem. . . .