No Worries!

I seem to be getting the message that my family is worried about me.   I understand why that might be so, but it does seem a little odd.  I do not need people worrying about me.. I take pretty good care of myself.

I have been crying, a fair amount indeed… it is the only way to heal.: crying and time.  It was my plan (yes Jeri.. I do plan things sometimes)  to cry.. to grieve my mother.  I planned to sit down in the middle of the house and cry for three days.  I realize now it isn’t quite that simple, I will miss my mom for the rest of my days, but that is ok.

I have the right to cry for at least three days without people getting worried.  My mother just died.  I sat in her bedroom, alone with just the cat and dog… My father died just a year and a half ago.  My sisters barely speak to me.  My brother is dealing as best he can but is also rather heart broken and dealing with the new reality in the best way he can.  My other brother talks to me and I am pretty sure is not too worried, I mean.. what would you worry about anyway? 

I don’t have a ‘regular’ job by any stretch of the imagination.  But really,  when have I done anything in the ‘regular’ way.  I don’t ‘do’ regular.  My biggest fear growing up was that one day I would be regular...  Well, I don’t think I have to worry.  I am just the way I want to be.. a little irregular.  Maybe it started with my hair..?  I am not settled and content, but instead living my life, a quite unsettled, discontented at times and loving it!

I don’t have a ‘regular’ guy.  I fall for men that adore me and are probably just plain wrong for me.  I adored both Mike and Vas.  I miss them both and am lonely at times.. but not regretting my choice to leave either one of them.  I have changed as I have aged.. my restlessness doesn’t make room for a settled and boring life., nor would I want it to.  I haven’t found ‘the perfect guy’ yet, but that just means I get to keep on looking. 

I have friends… people in my life that I know I can turn to when I need them. ..people that don’t ‘worry’ about me but instead understand, support and cry with me.   I have friends that have opened their homes to me, as well as their hearts.  They know that life can be tough,and sometimes you need to poke at the sores to clean them out.. even though it is painful.  They know it is just as important to talk about things and hold on to the good times. I know I need to cry as hard as I laugh.  It is ok.. it is good… it is what being alive is about. 

Eating and sleeping were hard at first... grief, then jet lag, then jet lag and grief...  they should be hard.  My mother deserved my grief… earned my grief.

I did what I could in her lifetime to let her know how much she was loved.  We went on a huge number of adventures together.  And during her last summer our adventure meant staying in Madeira park and letting the action come to us.  Many people came to visit.. including my children and their partners and children. We all shared stories and food and hugs.. they told her they loved her and said good-bye.  I shared an amazing summer with my mother, and yes, she drove me mad.. as she always did when we spent too much time together.  I could have stayed longer, but I didn't.  She wanted me to go..  It is what I always did when we butted heads and I am sure she expected nothing less from me. I had stayed almost ten months. 

I left her in the arms of her friends, and then in the hands of my sisters.. it really was their turn and I was happy to have her spend time with her other daughters.  She needed some space, and then she had two of her daughters at her bedside when it was time to say good-bye. Jeri was by her side and Jackie had her hand on her face.. calming her, when she passed on.   It was what she wanted.  I would have liked to have been there when she left this world, but I don't think she really wanted me there.. And she usually got what she wanted.

She never seemed to be willing to go when I was around.

Mom and I were together when I almost drove the VW Bug into an oncoming car.  All she said was I had the fastest reflexes she ever saw and I had saved our lives., then she got out and checked to see if he’d scratched the paint as he flew by at about 70 MPH.

Mom and I were together when she got caught up on those rocks in Mexico.  We held on to each other, literally for dear life, and made it back to the beach, our bathers full of sand, alive and laughing at how close we had been to dying. 

Mom and I were together when the doctor told her she did not have much longer to live.  We spent months together.. talking about life and death and what it is all about and what is important.  Then summer came and she was struggling to breath.. so we called the family together.. their last chance to say good-bye.  She rallied yet again, got strong and shared in the food and laughter of all the visiting family.  She worked in the garden.. cleaned out the shed.. painted.. played cards..  We had drinks with the girls.  We spent money and laughed.. and she started bossing me about.. and arguing..and insisting on being independent..

She wanted me to go and while it broke my heart I couldn't stay any longer.

She knew the summer had come to an end and this time she didn’t want anyone there who would mess up her plan to leave this world.   She wanted to go, it was her time. 

I have lost my best friend and I am grieving right now.. and will be for some time I imagine.  But really, what is this “so and so is worried about you” crap?

I have been reaching out to family.  Crying.  Talking with friends. Crying   Staying with friends.  Doing things I love to do.  Eating sushi.  Crying Spoiling myself.   I have been working on my stories and talking with my publisher.  I have been drinking beer, sleeping on the floor at Judy’s and eating sushi.  I have been planning a road trip with Mary.. . thinking about the job my boss has offered to give me back in January.  I have been wondering if I should work or go live in Mexico, just as I have always thought about all the choices I have and marveling at how lucky I am to have these as the big choices in my life.   And then yes.. I cry. 

But I am supposed to cry.  I have lost my best friend.   But I also smile through my tears at how lucky I was to have such a headstrong, beautiful mother who lived her life in such a way that all she had left on her bucket list was to ‘stay home and enjoy all the things her life had created.. the gardens, the art, the food, the people that came to visit, her family and friends..  She was a mother who loved to hear about all the things on my bucket list and almost pushed me out the door to keep ticking things off my list.  Hers was done.

The only time mom really worried about me was when she figured I was stuck in one place too long doing something I felt bound to do instead of something I loved to do.

SO people.. Just make sure you are living your life in a way that you can go out when you are ready, with nothing left on your bucket list to do..  and for heaven’s sake don’t waste time worrying about me!  I may cry for years over my mom.. it is what I do!  I loved her!  I will miss her!  In my books she is worth a good cry.. again and again.  And, I hope someone cries just as hard for me when I am gone! 

To struggle and stumble and rely on friends and family for support when your mother dies is healthy.. it is life.. and life is brilliant!