This is my house not on Pinterest!


This is my house not on Pinterest!

Living room window. I love the late afternoon sun and how it makes the room light up with a soft pink glow.

Do you use Pinterest? Frankly, it annoys me. It is like a collection of what people like. I feel frustrated most of the time when I am on it. It makes me feel like I need to get busy cleaning or crafting or being inspirational.

My friend and I have thought about doing a Pinterest board of our messy homes. We are both moms to young children. At best, after my house has been thoroughly cleaned, it looks nothing like a Pinterest photo.

I guess I don’t like Pinterest because it induces so many feels of inadequacy in me. No thanks. I already am way too hard on myself as it is.
Anyway, it is a great place to get ideas. I always wonder who these people are that live the Pinterest life. Like who does their cleaning? Is it a maid? Housekeeper? Husband? And what motivates them to be so crafty? Are they distracting themselves from a real problem? Then I realize there is no way to really find out who is behind the pin that has me thinking all these deep thoughts because it is repinned so many times.

Anyway, sorry for the rant. I am distracting myself from grief. I recently had a birthday and instead of being happy on my birthday, I was incredibly sad. It took me the whole day to pinpoint exactly why. It was because this past birthday was the first birthday without my mother. She passed away on Christmas Eve. The reality of her death and the fact that she is really gone has hit me hard this month.

We shared a birthday (her a birth day) for almost four decades. I miss her so much and there is so much I want to know about her. So many stories I kick myself for not recording or writing down that she told over and over and I barely listened to them because she told them to me so many times.

This photo was taken in 2003 on Christmas Eve. My father passed away in December of 2003. This photo was taken at my best friend's house.

This photo was taken in 2003 on Christmas Eve. My father passed away in December of 2003. This photo was taken at my best friend’s house.

I’ve been looking out my windows a lot lately wondering where she is. Where can I access her? People are so kind to me about my grief. Sypathetic. Some empathetic. I know in my mind I am not the only woman who has lost her mother. But I feel very isolated in my pain.

I am thinking about starting a Pinterest board on death. Yes, seriously. I often post my blog posts to StumbleUpon and I always wonder why there is isn’t a topic for grief or death. I guess it is something people don’t classify easily. I still can not classify what I am feeling.

I am reading books with the theme of loss and death in them. They give me comfort. I recently read “Still Point of the Turning World” by Emily Rapp. This is what I wrote on Good Reads about it:

I was fortunate to read an ARC of this book. This book was beautiful. The author is a Wyoming native so I enjoyed reading about references to my home state. Her son, Rowan had Tay-Sachs disease. He recently passed away. She has a popular blog (Little Seal) about her journey with her son.This book came into my hands shortly before my mother passed away. It was a serendipitous gift. It provided me such comfort as I often read it under the covers with a flashlight in my own cocoon of grief. Emily Rapp is a talented writer who is able to immerse the reader into her story without being overly sentimental or completely grief stricken. I recommend it highly. It is not just a book about loss, in fact, it is quite the opposite; it is a book about love and life.

I also just finished “The Long Goodbye: A Memoir” by Meghan O’Rourke.  I enjoyed this book. The author’s name is Meghan and my name is Megan; her mother died on Christmas day and my mother died Christmas Eve. I would recommend this book as well.

I am currently reading “Wild” by Cheryl Strayed.  I love this line in the book: “Just as I’d seemed to be doing okay after my mom died. Grief doesn’t have a face.”
I love this memoir. Cheryl Strayed makes writing a memoir look effortless. As a writer, I know it is not effortless, but a skill and a craft.

View from my living room of my porch

View from my living room of my porch

Advertisements

Bloom


Bloom

“People deal too much with the negative, with what is wrong. Why not try and see positive things, to just touch those things and make them bloom?”
– Nhat Hanh

“If your heart is a volcano, how shall you expect flowers to bloom?”
– Khalil Gibran

“I hope you will go out and let stories happen to you, and that you will work them, water them with your blood and tears and you laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom.”
– Clarissa Pinkola Estes

“May my soul bloom in love for all existence.” -Rudolf Steiner

I had a difficult day today. I was very sad about my mother. Her death has become very real. It is very real I can not call her. I was sick for the past week with a horrible cold that got progressively worse. I spent the weekend in bed feeling like I had strep throat, bronchitis, and the flu. I rarely get sick, but I could not escape this cold. I got through it and am feeling better.

I feel so vulnerable when I am sick. My mom used to make me hot tea with lemon and sugar. To this day, I still can not make hot tea as perfect as she did. It must have been her secret ingredient: mother’s love. She also made me cinnamon toast with sugar, perfectly buttered. I thought of these two comfort foods this weekend while I was sick in bed, curled into my comforter. I thought of my mom bringing me the hot tea and toast so many times as a child. She always knew how to console me, comfort me — with her words, with her silence, with her smile.

I have to believe that my feelings of sadness and loss will pass or bloom into something better. For now, I am deep in the soil of loss. I go about my daily rituals of mothering my own son, working, and writing, being a wife. But I feel like I am just circling the outside of the world, not completely centered. It gives me comfort to know I am not alone. There are others deep in the soil of grief, of longing for that person they miss the most.

Perhaps my sorrow will bloom into a beautiful flower someday. For now, I tend to my own soil, fertilizing it with tears.


Happy St. Patrick’s Day

MemoMuse

“Irishmen are dreamers, musicians, and stubborn people…”  That is the lead for the newspaper article that was written about my father.  That is what he said.  He was a dreamer and a true musician of the mind.  Although he did not play an instrument, his hard working spirit and his decency as a person make me honored to call him my father.

For some reason I am not really feeling the wordy stuff today.  I do feel I want to honor my mom and dad by posting pictures.

So many people are getting ready to eat their corn beef and cabbage and drink their green beer.  For me, this holiday is about the roots that are deep like the crevices in the Emerald Aisle’s shoreline.  These crevices go back to Ireland, as my great-grandfather immigrated to the United States from Ireland.  I have his immigration papers.  I don’t know if…

View original post 700 more words