So back in April I wrote a post about being Sentimental or is it Sediment. I just finished re-reading it and well. I wish I could say that my position on the subject had changed or that I have found the answer or seen the light. I have not. I am still wrestling with the stuff and the memories. Now I am not saying that we have not gotten rid of more stuff. A total of 11 bags of clothes have been donated and about 4 thrown out which is amazing considering the lady only wore about 3 outfits. And I am not talking kitchen garbage bags I am talking 30 gallon outdoor trash bags. Since then I have taken some 10 boxes of stuff to an antique auction and am still waiting for the results of how that has done. So stuff is going away. Craigslist has not been the help I thought it would be to get rid of some of the furnishings but I am going to post the items again. Now that it is time for kids to go back to school maybe some first time apartment owner could use a dining room table and chairs or a bookshelf. I could only hope that they would also want the books on the shelf as well but I doubt we will be that lucky.
The thing that I have kind of morphed my thoughts of my mom's stuff and her memory to me and my stuff and the memory of me. If mom's stuff doesn't matter to others than neither will mine and I have devalued myself to a place I would prefer not to be. There are things that the memories are so strong when I look at in her house and I think no one is going to look at anything and hold me that dear. I will give the strangest example: My mom had a cat years ago that would pee on anything to mark it. So to keep the cat from peeing on mom's shoes she used to pick them up and sit them on a dining room chair. Well the cat died years ago but mom always continued to pick up her shoes and sit them on the chair. And after she passed I noticed one day the shoes sitting on the chair and I thought to pick them up and throw them out. And then I looked at them. Hmm. I see them in my head right now and the tears are running down my face. It is just a stupid pair of deck shoes but I swear if they are tossed now I would be so upset. It has been suggested to me to take a picture of them to remind me of her habit. I know I am not going to bring the chair and the shoes to my house to sit in my dining room. I will end up getting rid of them but for now they sit there.
So my own new found personal lack of value is a self destructive thing that I know is just over thinking the whole thing. But the great thing about my brain is I just don't let go of it. The thoughts sit in my head and get stirred around within my daily thoughts and now I found myself wishing for happier thoughts and brighter days.
I am hoping by writing these things down that I can let them go. I have thought them they are of no value to me and now they can be gone. I am going to say on a positive note that even though I have not posted anything recently I have written some. Still not finished with a poem that I carry in my purse just in case the thoughts to complete it all come together one day when I am not near pen and paper. But I also have attended a reading of fiction and non-fiction at an art gallery in St. Pete. It was very nice and I did read the piece I wrote for mom. Yes, I cried but when I was done the lady in charge said that mom would be proud of me for reading it. And another lady said she wished she would have written after her mother passed. So over all that was a good experience and I would like to write something new between now and September when there will be another reading event. Something a little less close to my heart even though that is where the writing comes from so I doubt I can distance my heart from my writing.
Well the sun is starting to come up and I feel a little bit better. I have shared a memory or two and spilled more tears and of my guts than I probably should but I will head back to bed.
Hear is to happier days.
Thursday, August 11, 2016
Friday, July 8, 2016
Let the Tour begin
Today is not the sit down and write the entire post in an hour kind of day. This one takes a week but here goes. I began on July 2nd the first day of this year's Tour de France. In my mind I see my mom singing,"it's the most wonderful time of the year." Mom loved the Tour. She loved the scenery and she would watch each days events each time they were broadcast. For 21 days she would call and say we should watch and see the castles and the sunflowers or the lavender fields. Or we should see the elaborate display of a bicycle made of hay and how the farmer makes the wheels turn with their tractor. The views from the helicopter are always amazing. Brian likes to see them crash.
Today as I watched I thought how I have learned a little French from watching the tour. The word peloton, which is french for ball but in cycling it is the main field of riders. Another phrase I thought of was Maillot Jaune, or in English the yellow jersey which is worn by the leader of the race, which can change each day or stay the same for days or weeks at a time.
I have often wondered if watching street side would be as fun as mother found it to be watching on tv. I thought many times about it but when mentioned she never seemed interested in actually going to France but part of me would like to experience it for her. Experience the people of the Basque region (southern part of France that boarders with Spain runs along the Pyrenees Mountains), The people of that region always wearing orange which I have learned is the color of the telco company. And the people are referred to as the "orange crush". They line the top of the mountain stages and get so close to the riders I am always afraid one will be hit. They always talk of how these people have been up on top of the mountain some waiting for days for the riders to get to that stage. To say some of these fans are crazy would be an understatement but it always makes for an interesting day.
The down hill trek can sometimes be cold and to keep warm the riders will grab a newspaper from a bystander and stick it under their jersey. It keeps them warm as they are heading down hill at 40 miles per hour. If you are interested next week they should be riding through this area and you will see how fun loving the Basque people can be.
So far this week mom's favorite rider Mark Cavendish has already won 3 stages. Not sure why mom liked him other than he was from the Isle of Mann in Britain and my brother had friends from that same place, A place known for the motor cycle races which I have also watched at my mother's urging. Mark has now won 29 stages over his career just in the Tour. He wins the stages in the last seconds which could be why she liked him. One win this week a photo finish that was so close but the day before he lost by just that close as well. That does make for an exciting end to a 100 mile ride. He is in the front of the peloton with his lead off men that will drop off one by one after they have pulled him up close to the front and kept the pace for a while then in the last mile as the rest have faded Mark and a few other sprinters will do what they do best. Race like crazy for the finish line. Good Luck for the rest of the race Mark. Mom is watching and cheering you on.
Mom also liked the commentary on the race the two Englishmen that call the race point out the interesting sites and explain parts of the race that people outside the bicycle world may not understand. One example they would refer to is a Natural Break. It is truly a pee break along the road. The cameras will divert our eyes to more scenic things during the natural break but yes the riders do pause along the way. Mom's favorite commentator Bob Roll, an American cyclist from the US 7-Eleven team from back in the 1980's who road along with the likes of Greg LeMond who was the first non-European to win the Tour de France. Bob is known for his witty commentary and they have a segment called Ask Bobke which you can submit your questions about the race and he will answer. I to find him to be quite fun and would like to meet him.
Along with the Tour I thought about the things she liked that she shared with us like bacon. BLTs were a Saturday staple at her house but both Billie and I can tell you we never have bacon at home. But would look forward to going down to her house and eating BLTs for lunch. Was it because that was just something to share at mom's or would it maybe not be as good at home. Yes I am crying over the thought of a BLT or the smell of bacon cooking at mom's.
I am going to continue watching this weeks tour and maybe next Saturday have a BLT with Billie and continue to enjoy the Tour as she would have. Au Revoir for now.
Today as I watched I thought how I have learned a little French from watching the tour. The word peloton, which is french for ball but in cycling it is the main field of riders. Another phrase I thought of was Maillot Jaune, or in English the yellow jersey which is worn by the leader of the race, which can change each day or stay the same for days or weeks at a time.
I have often wondered if watching street side would be as fun as mother found it to be watching on tv. I thought many times about it but when mentioned she never seemed interested in actually going to France but part of me would like to experience it for her. Experience the people of the Basque region (southern part of France that boarders with Spain runs along the Pyrenees Mountains), The people of that region always wearing orange which I have learned is the color of the telco company. And the people are referred to as the "orange crush". They line the top of the mountain stages and get so close to the riders I am always afraid one will be hit. They always talk of how these people have been up on top of the mountain some waiting for days for the riders to get to that stage. To say some of these fans are crazy would be an understatement but it always makes for an interesting day.
The down hill trek can sometimes be cold and to keep warm the riders will grab a newspaper from a bystander and stick it under their jersey. It keeps them warm as they are heading down hill at 40 miles per hour. If you are interested next week they should be riding through this area and you will see how fun loving the Basque people can be.
So far this week mom's favorite rider Mark Cavendish has already won 3 stages. Not sure why mom liked him other than he was from the Isle of Mann in Britain and my brother had friends from that same place, A place known for the motor cycle races which I have also watched at my mother's urging. Mark has now won 29 stages over his career just in the Tour. He wins the stages in the last seconds which could be why she liked him. One win this week a photo finish that was so close but the day before he lost by just that close as well. That does make for an exciting end to a 100 mile ride. He is in the front of the peloton with his lead off men that will drop off one by one after they have pulled him up close to the front and kept the pace for a while then in the last mile as the rest have faded Mark and a few other sprinters will do what they do best. Race like crazy for the finish line. Good Luck for the rest of the race Mark. Mom is watching and cheering you on.
Mom also liked the commentary on the race the two Englishmen that call the race point out the interesting sites and explain parts of the race that people outside the bicycle world may not understand. One example they would refer to is a Natural Break. It is truly a pee break along the road. The cameras will divert our eyes to more scenic things during the natural break but yes the riders do pause along the way. Mom's favorite commentator Bob Roll, an American cyclist from the US 7-Eleven team from back in the 1980's who road along with the likes of Greg LeMond who was the first non-European to win the Tour de France. Bob is known for his witty commentary and they have a segment called Ask Bobke which you can submit your questions about the race and he will answer. I to find him to be quite fun and would like to meet him.
Along with the Tour I thought about the things she liked that she shared with us like bacon. BLTs were a Saturday staple at her house but both Billie and I can tell you we never have bacon at home. But would look forward to going down to her house and eating BLTs for lunch. Was it because that was just something to share at mom's or would it maybe not be as good at home. Yes I am crying over the thought of a BLT or the smell of bacon cooking at mom's.
I am going to continue watching this weeks tour and maybe next Saturday have a BLT with Billie and continue to enjoy the Tour as she would have. Au Revoir for now.
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
A Day at the Beach with Mom
So that contest I entered in March they announced the winner and it was not me. That is ok. Gave me the opportunity to write something new and I had the time and was not sleeping so I wrote. Now I read it back and I can feel that time and see myself sitting there with mom in the middle of the night. In case you are interested in the winner submission I have added a link to the page.
http://www.fla-keys.com/flashfiction/
Here is my submission to share with the rest of the world.
By Jeanne Holmquist
http://www.fla-keys.com/flashfiction/
Here is my submission to share with the rest of the world.
A Day at the Beach with Mom
A young girl stands at the edge of the water and sees the sand and water, the blue sky and shells along the beach.
That same girl comes back to the spot as a teenager she not only sees the sand and water but she feels it between her toes. In the blue sky she sees the white wispy clouds and feels the sharp edges of the shells in her hands.
As a young woman she stands in that same spot feeling the warm water at the edge of the shore and the sand between her toes. The sky is still just as blue and the clouds as wispy. She smells the fresh air and hears the birds and the sharp edges of the shells are beautiful.
The woman now middle aged stands along the same shore, loves the sand and water mixing between her toes. The blue skies, wispy clouds and fresh air seem much more intense than when she was young. The beautiful shells holding live creatures she tosses back in the water to ensure their safety. She knows the beauty she has held in her hand is forever in her heart. The birds direct her eyes out in the water to the boats passing by. Do they miss what I’ve seen my whole life or is the view just as beautiful from out there?
Now an old woman it is much harder to get through the sand to the shore but that feel of the sand and water mixing between her toes is still as it has always been but now the clouds are harder for her to see in the sky and the fresh air brings a tear to her eyes. The shells colors and edges are not as sharp as when she was younger, she cannot toss the shells as far back as before but her heart still thinks she can. The birds still direct her eyes out and though she cannot see the boats they are still there. She breathes in the fresh air as though it may be her last breath, and remembers the young girl without a care in the world and the teenager that saw the world could be rough at times but as a young woman she stopped to breath in the fresh air and feel the beauty in her hand she holds in her heart. She remembers seeing off in the distance the world going by.
The next time she is back she is no longer herself. She came back to become one with the sand and water, to be part of the shells. She can now fly with the birds and she is part of the perfume that makes the air so fresh. Her heart will always be at this place in the sand.
If you go there today you will see what she saw and feel what she felt but only if you stand there long enough and open your mind and your heart to the beauty.
By Jeanne Holmquist
Friday, June 3, 2016
Why the Dr bothers me?
So one day I wake up trying to convince myself that the simple task I have to do today that millions of women do every year is attainable by me. Well maybe not. Maybe an hour of waiting and worrying is too much for my mind and my body. Maybe I will try again next week. Oh, the people at the office were kind after they realized I had reached the point of no return. The point of which fight or flight the option is over and I must go. I explained. It isn't easy for me to come to the office and waiting is just not something I am good with here. Not that I don't have the patience. I have all the patience in the world but as I wait patiently my brain doesn't stop. Doesn't stop telling the rest of me how they are going to weigh me and I will be disappointed and then they are going to take my blood pressure and they will ask what worries me so much and how nothing bad is going to happen and that it is just a normal test that is taken to prevent something much worse. And is your blood pressure always this high? I understand all of that. That logical, common sense part of my brain gets all of that. But the part of my brain that is unreasonable and illogical is screaming you may not make it through this visit Jeanne. Reminds me of the father in Sanford in Son when he feels a heart attack coming on and yells out, "You hear that Elizabeth? I am coming to join you honey." Fred Sanford never died at these moments. He survived, just like me today.
I will try again next week to face the visit. I will try to be patient and they promise that I will not have to wait that long and will be seen quickly. My sister recommended that I ask to be first so I didn't have time to get worked up or worry. I used to have to do that with all Dr. appt's but I am getting better. I can go to the family Dr. and wait and get weighed and have my blood pressure checked and I survive. I will remind myself on Monday that I can do this. I can wait my turn and survive the poking and prodding and walk out the door still in one piece.
Just had to get this off my chest in hopes that I will not have to worry for the next 2 days. And maybe the shortest blog post I have ever written and published.
Good night.
I will try again next week to face the visit. I will try to be patient and they promise that I will not have to wait that long and will be seen quickly. My sister recommended that I ask to be first so I didn't have time to get worked up or worry. I used to have to do that with all Dr. appt's but I am getting better. I can go to the family Dr. and wait and get weighed and have my blood pressure checked and I survive. I will remind myself on Monday that I can do this. I can wait my turn and survive the poking and prodding and walk out the door still in one piece.
Just had to get this off my chest in hopes that I will not have to worry for the next 2 days. And maybe the shortest blog post I have ever written and published.
Good night.
Saturday, May 7, 2016
Happy Birthday, Derby Day, Mother's Day
Back in August of 2012 I wrote my first blog. Not to be famous or to bad mouth others but to find an outlet for my own feelings and emotions. So this week was the anniversary of one of the traumatic events that got me to start writing.
This week is also Mother's Day and the Kentucky Derby. Now I know that in most houses none of these things have to do with the other but in my house the Derby and mom and grandma always went hand in hand. Mom and Grandma were both from Louisville, Kentucky the home of Churchill Downs and the Kentucky Derby both their birthday's were withing a week or so before the Derby and just a few weeks before Mother's Day most years. Going to the Derby has been on my bucket list as long as I wanted to go to Times Square for New Year's Eve which I did for the year 2000. I am far from a fancy person but for that day I will wear a dress and flat shoes and a moderate hat but none the less appropriate for the Derby. I will drink mint juleps as though it were my God given right. The only thing I won't be able to do is call mom and grandma when I am done with the day and tell them how wonderfully long the day was and how amazing the hats and the clothes were and the number of famous people we see that day.
Today as most Derby Day's I watched the pre race festivities the early card races and enjoyed the call for riders up, the Post Parade and the singing of My Old Kentucky Home (which Brian used to believe was a song written about a house I lived in, in Kentucky) update babe: I never lived in Kentucky. Still makes me laugh. And then the fastest 2 minutes in sports. A new person at work was sitting with me this week and I spoke of the Derby and she being all of 20 years old did not know what the Kentucky Derby is. If you have somehow read this far and don't either please Google it or ask Cortana or your friend Seri.
So I did not talk on the phone today through all of this or watch with mom and grandma as we have in the past. One year we took the kids all down to mom's and made Derby hats and made bets on the race and watched it together. That was probably in 2011 or so. Funny how the time flies by and somethings will always stay with me. Like the Derby that I had 2 of my nieces over for and explained about betting and gave them each a quarter to bet on the race. They may have been 5 and 7 or so but the older of the two decided that she just liked that I gave her a quarter and she wasn't going to risk betting. I told her that was a choice she could make. It was so cute.
I try to share these bits of family history and tradition with the kids and recently I have been reminded by the fact that mom is gone that I have no one to pass my knowledge or love for any of these things on to. I have no children to instill my beliefs in or to share my joys with. This was something that when I was of the age of everyone around me is having children was a reality I did not want to accept, yet here I am of the age where my friends are now becoming grandparents and again it is brought to the forefront in my life. And since with the recent death of my mother I have been reminded of the 5 steps in grieving. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. I realized I have done rather well with my anticipatory grief (fancy term for grieving before the person passes). This is my thing. I am sad before and even though I know I did everything that I needed to do for the person. It may not have been everything others wanted from me, or everything others expected but it was exactly what I could do. But in anticipation of not being able to save the person I grief for their loss ahead of time. I want for one more day while I still have days and want to make better what I cannot change. But after the loss of a person that I have grieved for ahead of time it
gives me acceptance. Something that a lot of times in my life I fall short of accepting myself. And here we are back to the fact that I never had children. It was not for a lack of trying but I always said God and I didn't see it the same way. Even today I have all the signs of grief for a child I never had and life I did not live. I do accept the way my life is and don't want to adopt. This may be fear of acceptance by the child or fear of not being good enough to some stranger. That is all on me.
Since over these last few months I have struggled with what to write at times for fear of sharing someone else's sorrow or opening up someone else's wound I decided tonight that my wounds are the only ones I am speaking of and always have been. I am not going to stop writing for fear of what others think this is purely a selfish act which a dear friend reminded me this morning that I don't have enough of. So I am going to work to accept the things that I cannot change and I will write the things that I would have shared with my kids in hopes that one day someone else's children will find what I have written and think I didn't know that about my family. And that will be my way to share my history with the future generations even if they are not my children. Happy Mother's Day Mom and Grandma (both Grandma's for that matter).
This week is also Mother's Day and the Kentucky Derby. Now I know that in most houses none of these things have to do with the other but in my house the Derby and mom and grandma always went hand in hand. Mom and Grandma were both from Louisville, Kentucky the home of Churchill Downs and the Kentucky Derby both their birthday's were withing a week or so before the Derby and just a few weeks before Mother's Day most years. Going to the Derby has been on my bucket list as long as I wanted to go to Times Square for New Year's Eve which I did for the year 2000. I am far from a fancy person but for that day I will wear a dress and flat shoes and a moderate hat but none the less appropriate for the Derby. I will drink mint juleps as though it were my God given right. The only thing I won't be able to do is call mom and grandma when I am done with the day and tell them how wonderfully long the day was and how amazing the hats and the clothes were and the number of famous people we see that day.
Today as most Derby Day's I watched the pre race festivities the early card races and enjoyed the call for riders up, the Post Parade and the singing of My Old Kentucky Home (which Brian used to believe was a song written about a house I lived in, in Kentucky) update babe: I never lived in Kentucky. Still makes me laugh. And then the fastest 2 minutes in sports. A new person at work was sitting with me this week and I spoke of the Derby and she being all of 20 years old did not know what the Kentucky Derby is. If you have somehow read this far and don't either please Google it or ask Cortana or your friend Seri.
So I did not talk on the phone today through all of this or watch with mom and grandma as we have in the past. One year we took the kids all down to mom's and made Derby hats and made bets on the race and watched it together. That was probably in 2011 or so. Funny how the time flies by and somethings will always stay with me. Like the Derby that I had 2 of my nieces over for and explained about betting and gave them each a quarter to bet on the race. They may have been 5 and 7 or so but the older of the two decided that she just liked that I gave her a quarter and she wasn't going to risk betting. I told her that was a choice she could make. It was so cute.
I try to share these bits of family history and tradition with the kids and recently I have been reminded by the fact that mom is gone that I have no one to pass my knowledge or love for any of these things on to. I have no children to instill my beliefs in or to share my joys with. This was something that when I was of the age of everyone around me is having children was a reality I did not want to accept, yet here I am of the age where my friends are now becoming grandparents and again it is brought to the forefront in my life. And since with the recent death of my mother I have been reminded of the 5 steps in grieving. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. I realized I have done rather well with my anticipatory grief (fancy term for grieving before the person passes). This is my thing. I am sad before and even though I know I did everything that I needed to do for the person. It may not have been everything others wanted from me, or everything others expected but it was exactly what I could do. But in anticipation of not being able to save the person I grief for their loss ahead of time. I want for one more day while I still have days and want to make better what I cannot change. But after the loss of a person that I have grieved for ahead of time it
gives me acceptance. Something that a lot of times in my life I fall short of accepting myself. And here we are back to the fact that I never had children. It was not for a lack of trying but I always said God and I didn't see it the same way. Even today I have all the signs of grief for a child I never had and life I did not live. I do accept the way my life is and don't want to adopt. This may be fear of acceptance by the child or fear of not being good enough to some stranger. That is all on me.
Since over these last few months I have struggled with what to write at times for fear of sharing someone else's sorrow or opening up someone else's wound I decided tonight that my wounds are the only ones I am speaking of and always have been. I am not going to stop writing for fear of what others think this is purely a selfish act which a dear friend reminded me this morning that I don't have enough of. So I am going to work to accept the things that I cannot change and I will write the things that I would have shared with my kids in hopes that one day someone else's children will find what I have written and think I didn't know that about my family. And that will be my way to share my history with the future generations even if they are not my children. Happy Mother's Day Mom and Grandma (both Grandma's for that matter).
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Is it Sediment or Sentimental?
I am up early this morning. Not as early as I usually write. The sun is up and it is a bit cool out this morning and windy. I have been thinking about everything lately and found it ironic that at this time of sorrow how I don't write. I do write in my journal at work maybe once a week and I have been trying to put together a poem that I felt should have been a one time sit down and spill it out kind of thing but it is not coming out that way. Nothing really comes that simple right now. I was thinking this morning about the fact that I don't write because I am not the only one feeling this sorrow and I don't want to discount anyone else's feelings by making mine seem important. I guess that is the empathy that I have. I don't discount anything of someone else's but I am always able to discount my own.
The first thing that came to mind this morning was the word sentiment but I thought how similar it is to the word sediment. So you cherish it or you throw it out, just one letter makes all the difference in the world.
Life is always full of challenges but these I face now are so difficult for me. I hold them inside, maybe not to let go. And I keep telling myself I need to let go. I cannot hold on to everything not even these feelings. I am thankful that depression is not figuring into this. I know some of you are thinking oh but it is Jeanne, you just don't realize it. But it isn't. Trust me. I have a life time of experience and one thing when I am heading down that hole I know it. This is different. I am motivated to do things it is just I am overwhelmed with what to do first. But yesterday Billie, Al and I made a dent. Be it a small dent. We went through mom's clothes. We started with two bags. Garbage and donate. We joked when we had filled the 5th bag of donate that since we each get one fifth of the contents of the house we each get a bag of clothes. I know that is stupid but that is how it is. If we didn't joke about it I might cry, but I didn't. When we were through we donated 6 bags of clothes and had thrown out two. I feel like we didn't even put a dent in her room but we did. I need to not discount our accomplishments no matter how small.
So next week is mom's birthday. I said we would all go to lunch at her favorite restaurant. Just the 5 of us and family. I thought about inviting more but then that becomes a big thing and I don't know... I just want it to be us and I want it to be nice. Maybe afterwards we can go to mom's and each pick a few things out of the house. This is the part that is hard for me. Not that I don't want them to take things that remind them of mom and grandma but then I picture the house with pictures missing off the wall and then it will not be the same. I know it is never going to be the same. I realize that every time I sit down in the living room and look around.
I think about the show American Pickers because when they buy something from someone they always make it like they are going to cherish the thing they purchase. They always say that they are going to pass on the story of the item and the person that owned it and if even the only person that is going to remember the story is a person that saw it on tv I guess that matters. Someone will remember. But don't they only cherish the item until it is in the truck and the camera is off and then it is going to their store and their going to sell it. Now the person that is going to buy that farm fresh find of theirs will they cherish the thing or did they buy it just because it was on tv. Does that matter?
I really wish something that was inside me would spill out onto this page and make all of this easier. Some realization that will make this all ok with me. I wonder if mom knew this part would be this hard. Then I look around my own house and want to get rid of stuff. Because it is just that. Stuff. Most of the nick knack things in my house were given to me. I am not one to buy things for myself. Mom used to love to buy anything with geese on it because I had some Louisville Stoneware that had geese that I liked and geese canisters in my kitchen. I now have geese all over my kitchen but I had only bought the Louisville Stoneware pieces. When I had cats mom would buy me any cat figurine she found. So our living room has all kinds of cats. I only have one I picked and I painted it to look like a cat we used to have. I know the reason I hold onto these things has to do with that I remember that mom bought me the cats and the geese. That a girl from work gave me a black cat angel when she left and that a guy that sat by me gave me the snoopy race car figures I have and that a funny looking figurine in a safari suit was on Brian's birthday cake one year. I can walk through every room in the house and tell you who gave me what and why or when. Then funny thing is I guess it is just stuff but stuff someone bought for me. So am I not to cherish these things? Maybe that is it. I guess I always felt if someone gave you a gift that was something you should keep because they bought it for you. I know most people don't remember where everything they owned came from or maybe they just use it until they don't need it anymore and then it can be discarded.
Maybe that is the part that bothers me most, the discarding. If I get rid of the thing that they gave me am I getting rid of the person that gave it to me to begin with. Am I discarding our relationship or the fact that I even knew the person. Or is it that I think if I get rid of the thing they gave me that I will discarding them. I know the rest of the world is just like throw the shit out Jeanne.
Today this blog is not going to be one that I get up from and feel like I have accomplished something, or come to some conclusion. It is as mismatched as the things in my house and mom's. A jumbled bunch of thoughts that don't even make sense to me. Part of me wants to delete what I have written and go back to bed. But then this time was wasted if I throw out what I just spent the last hour writing. Maybe like the time spent picking out the cats and geese for me and the time she spent saving all the things in her house. Maybe that is it. Maybe I feel like she will be forgot if we get rid of her things or her house. I know that is not true but maybe that is the moral of this whole mess. She equated the things to her worth and I equate them to her memory.
Like I said, are all these things and memories are they sediment or sentimental? The fact that I don't discard them makes them sentimental but can they be both. Can I remember that I had them and that mom enjoyed the find and I am done using them or looking at them and can get rid of them. Can I? I guess that is the question.
The first thing that came to mind this morning was the word sentiment but I thought how similar it is to the word sediment. So you cherish it or you throw it out, just one letter makes all the difference in the world.
Life is always full of challenges but these I face now are so difficult for me. I hold them inside, maybe not to let go. And I keep telling myself I need to let go. I cannot hold on to everything not even these feelings. I am thankful that depression is not figuring into this. I know some of you are thinking oh but it is Jeanne, you just don't realize it. But it isn't. Trust me. I have a life time of experience and one thing when I am heading down that hole I know it. This is different. I am motivated to do things it is just I am overwhelmed with what to do first. But yesterday Billie, Al and I made a dent. Be it a small dent. We went through mom's clothes. We started with two bags. Garbage and donate. We joked when we had filled the 5th bag of donate that since we each get one fifth of the contents of the house we each get a bag of clothes. I know that is stupid but that is how it is. If we didn't joke about it I might cry, but I didn't. When we were through we donated 6 bags of clothes and had thrown out two. I feel like we didn't even put a dent in her room but we did. I need to not discount our accomplishments no matter how small.
So next week is mom's birthday. I said we would all go to lunch at her favorite restaurant. Just the 5 of us and family. I thought about inviting more but then that becomes a big thing and I don't know... I just want it to be us and I want it to be nice. Maybe afterwards we can go to mom's and each pick a few things out of the house. This is the part that is hard for me. Not that I don't want them to take things that remind them of mom and grandma but then I picture the house with pictures missing off the wall and then it will not be the same. I know it is never going to be the same. I realize that every time I sit down in the living room and look around.
I think about the show American Pickers because when they buy something from someone they always make it like they are going to cherish the thing they purchase. They always say that they are going to pass on the story of the item and the person that owned it and if even the only person that is going to remember the story is a person that saw it on tv I guess that matters. Someone will remember. But don't they only cherish the item until it is in the truck and the camera is off and then it is going to their store and their going to sell it. Now the person that is going to buy that farm fresh find of theirs will they cherish the thing or did they buy it just because it was on tv. Does that matter?
I really wish something that was inside me would spill out onto this page and make all of this easier. Some realization that will make this all ok with me. I wonder if mom knew this part would be this hard. Then I look around my own house and want to get rid of stuff. Because it is just that. Stuff. Most of the nick knack things in my house were given to me. I am not one to buy things for myself. Mom used to love to buy anything with geese on it because I had some Louisville Stoneware that had geese that I liked and geese canisters in my kitchen. I now have geese all over my kitchen but I had only bought the Louisville Stoneware pieces. When I had cats mom would buy me any cat figurine she found. So our living room has all kinds of cats. I only have one I picked and I painted it to look like a cat we used to have. I know the reason I hold onto these things has to do with that I remember that mom bought me the cats and the geese. That a girl from work gave me a black cat angel when she left and that a guy that sat by me gave me the snoopy race car figures I have and that a funny looking figurine in a safari suit was on Brian's birthday cake one year. I can walk through every room in the house and tell you who gave me what and why or when. Then funny thing is I guess it is just stuff but stuff someone bought for me. So am I not to cherish these things? Maybe that is it. I guess I always felt if someone gave you a gift that was something you should keep because they bought it for you. I know most people don't remember where everything they owned came from or maybe they just use it until they don't need it anymore and then it can be discarded.
Maybe that is the part that bothers me most, the discarding. If I get rid of the thing that they gave me am I getting rid of the person that gave it to me to begin with. Am I discarding our relationship or the fact that I even knew the person. Or is it that I think if I get rid of the thing they gave me that I will discarding them. I know the rest of the world is just like throw the shit out Jeanne.
Today this blog is not going to be one that I get up from and feel like I have accomplished something, or come to some conclusion. It is as mismatched as the things in my house and mom's. A jumbled bunch of thoughts that don't even make sense to me. Part of me wants to delete what I have written and go back to bed. But then this time was wasted if I throw out what I just spent the last hour writing. Maybe like the time spent picking out the cats and geese for me and the time she spent saving all the things in her house. Maybe that is it. Maybe I feel like she will be forgot if we get rid of her things or her house. I know that is not true but maybe that is the moral of this whole mess. She equated the things to her worth and I equate them to her memory.
Like I said, are all these things and memories are they sediment or sentimental? The fact that I don't discard them makes them sentimental but can they be both. Can I remember that I had them and that mom enjoyed the find and I am done using them or looking at them and can get rid of them. Can I? I guess that is the question.
Saturday, March 19, 2016
500 Words
Today I did something I have never done before. I submitted a story I wrote for a writing competition. It had to be a story never before published so I cannot share it until after the contest is over. I first heard of the contest back in December and I wasn't sure I could write something for it. The only real restrictions other than previously unpublished is that it had to be fiction and it had to be 500 words or less. I really wasn't sure how many words 500 was. So one night while I was staying overnight with mom I thought since their is nothing on TV at 3AM and I cannot sleep I will try to write something. So I started off with a piece of mom's paper and started. I wasn't sure what I would write about but I thought I just want to write a page and count the words and see what I have. That was how this started. The problem I didn't stop after the first page. I wrote 3 and a little more. The story tells the tale of person going to the beach and how both the beach and her are the same and they change. When I read back what I had written it made me cry. It was a metaphor for life. Mine maybe or maybe mom's. I wrote most in 3rd person as though I am watching someone else's life but then when I speak of the person at my age I used the word I. To some that means nothing to me it means that no matter I how try to separate my life from my mom's by growing up and moving out and even getting married we are still one in the same or are we?
I don't think I can say much more about the story but I was successful. It was just over 500 words. So as I typed it today to submit it. I typed as I originally wrote by hand and then edited just a few words and went from 512 to 500. So the whole thing seems like it was meant to be. I submitted it and now have to wait. It would be wonderful to be recognized for my ability to write but there are millions of people out there in the world waiting to be recognized for whatever they do that they enjoy. So I will only be disappointed for a minute because I know that when I read my work and when my best friend read it, there were tears in our eyes. I read it out loud today to Brian and he said he was crying before me. The important thing to learn was I can do anything I put my mind to. I am only limited by my own fears of failure.
Winning will not bring mom back so she cannot enjoy the fruits of my labor that evening. This piece however will always remind me of those days spent caring for mom. Sometimes that meant lifting her or helping her but sometimes it was just sitting with her. Talking to her. Listening to her stories. I have realized over the last few weeks I have been preparing for this year for a long time. Bits and pieces over my life then caring for our dog Kody for the 14 years we had him. Then in 2012 dealing with Brian's sister and her daughter and grand daughter's death and a few weeks later my cat of 21 years passed away and then a month later my grandmother. All those things taught me lots of things. How to take care of a sick dog is not the same as mom but it is not totally different. In the end I had spent 24 hours a day with him trying to get him to eat anything to get better. Going to Arizona to deal with Brian and his families tremendous loss taught me to express myself in ways other than panic. I learned to take the words in my head and put them to paper or write my blog. My grandmother's funeral preparations were very similar to mom's. Maybe they weren't as different as they thought they were.
Now I am left not alone but not the same. I do have times I want to call mom. I want to ask a question even though I may not have followed her advice at least I knew where she stood on the topic. I have just such issues now and I don't know what she would do. I don't know what I want to do. Part of me says nothing. Do nothing. Let things be the way they are and then there is the part that says that may not be fair to to everyone. Some may read this years or days from now and think they know the dilemma but I doubt they do. I am always looking out for the whole. In my book 5 will always =1.
I don't think I can say much more about the story but I was successful. It was just over 500 words. So as I typed it today to submit it. I typed as I originally wrote by hand and then edited just a few words and went from 512 to 500. So the whole thing seems like it was meant to be. I submitted it and now have to wait. It would be wonderful to be recognized for my ability to write but there are millions of people out there in the world waiting to be recognized for whatever they do that they enjoy. So I will only be disappointed for a minute because I know that when I read my work and when my best friend read it, there were tears in our eyes. I read it out loud today to Brian and he said he was crying before me. The important thing to learn was I can do anything I put my mind to. I am only limited by my own fears of failure.
Winning will not bring mom back so she cannot enjoy the fruits of my labor that evening. This piece however will always remind me of those days spent caring for mom. Sometimes that meant lifting her or helping her but sometimes it was just sitting with her. Talking to her. Listening to her stories. I have realized over the last few weeks I have been preparing for this year for a long time. Bits and pieces over my life then caring for our dog Kody for the 14 years we had him. Then in 2012 dealing with Brian's sister and her daughter and grand daughter's death and a few weeks later my cat of 21 years passed away and then a month later my grandmother. All those things taught me lots of things. How to take care of a sick dog is not the same as mom but it is not totally different. In the end I had spent 24 hours a day with him trying to get him to eat anything to get better. Going to Arizona to deal with Brian and his families tremendous loss taught me to express myself in ways other than panic. I learned to take the words in my head and put them to paper or write my blog. My grandmother's funeral preparations were very similar to mom's. Maybe they weren't as different as they thought they were.
Now I am left not alone but not the same. I do have times I want to call mom. I want to ask a question even though I may not have followed her advice at least I knew where she stood on the topic. I have just such issues now and I don't know what she would do. I don't know what I want to do. Part of me says nothing. Do nothing. Let things be the way they are and then there is the part that says that may not be fair to to everyone. Some may read this years or days from now and think they know the dilemma but I doubt they do. I am always looking out for the whole. In my book 5 will always =1.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)