So thankful for a mother that exposed me to the arts!!!!!! Because of her, I have a healthy appreciation for a wide range of music, theatre, and many other artistic expressions of culture and humanism. Because of her, I have a beautiful love affair with the pen. Because of her, I had a chance to be center stage with natural talent and cultivated confidence. Because of her, I have a beautiful memory of colors, shapes, and textures.
Thank you, Mama. You are the reason why I consider myself an artist.
And special thanks to Scroggins Elementary's fine arts department. In my other life, I had the opportunity to draw, paint, tile, sculpt, and weave. You made the first ten years of my life, rich with color!
P.S. A lot of people don't know this... I actually placed in a city wide contest when I was a kid. And if I have to say what I miss the most about seeing, it would be the beautiful art that God has painted and sculpted the world with.
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Sunday, June 12, 2016
Friday, November 20, 2015
If Only I knew
If I knew that I was going to miss Mama this much, I would've smothered her with my love and attention when she was here. She would've had to literally beat me off with a stick. Hind sight is always too late.
Monday, November 9, 2015
Dreaming
I’m very glad to report that I’ve been doing much better. The tears are showing up less and less. I haven’t cried in about three weeks.
However, the salty water has been replaced with dreams about Mama. I’m fine with that though. The dreams allow me a chance to hear Mama’s contagious laugh, take a look at her gorgeous smile, and have a quick talk with the woman I respect the most. I hope I never stop dreaming about her.
Although the grief is become less burdensome, I do find that I still think about Mama all the time. There’s very little that I can do in a run of a day that doesn’t somehow link to a memory of my mother. Shopping at Target, drinking lemonade, sitting outside on the porch, watching the Price is Right, picking out a new mattress, and getting dressed for work are just a few examples of the tasks I’ve done that cause me to think of her.
I’ve decided that I absolutely cannot stay at this house. Although I’m dedicated to holding my mother’s memory close to my heart, I do believe that the memory of Mama’s presence in this house is too much for me. I must find me a new home to create new memories. This house contains memories of Mama that are too painful to live in. While she didn’t die here, she did become deathly ill here. I cannot get those last moments here at the house out of my head.
And I’m still having issues with her room. I haven’t been in there to clean anything out since the last time I posted here.
Yeah, I know… I’m going to have to get better with that. All in time, my friends. All in time…
When I leap that hurdle with triumph, I’ll let you guys know.
However, the salty water has been replaced with dreams about Mama. I’m fine with that though. The dreams allow me a chance to hear Mama’s contagious laugh, take a look at her gorgeous smile, and have a quick talk with the woman I respect the most. I hope I never stop dreaming about her.
Although the grief is become less burdensome, I do find that I still think about Mama all the time. There’s very little that I can do in a run of a day that doesn’t somehow link to a memory of my mother. Shopping at Target, drinking lemonade, sitting outside on the porch, watching the Price is Right, picking out a new mattress, and getting dressed for work are just a few examples of the tasks I’ve done that cause me to think of her.
I’ve decided that I absolutely cannot stay at this house. Although I’m dedicated to holding my mother’s memory close to my heart, I do believe that the memory of Mama’s presence in this house is too much for me. I must find me a new home to create new memories. This house contains memories of Mama that are too painful to live in. While she didn’t die here, she did become deathly ill here. I cannot get those last moments here at the house out of my head.
And I’m still having issues with her room. I haven’t been in there to clean anything out since the last time I posted here.
Yeah, I know… I’m going to have to get better with that. All in time, my friends. All in time…
When I leap that hurdle with triumph, I’ll let you guys know.
Saturday, October 10, 2015
Always on my Mind
So, I’m running to the computer to stop myself from crying.
It appears that I get some kind of solace from writing about my grief and sorrow. I don’t know. Well, until I figure it out, I’ll be using this 2015 version of the pen and pad to help me cope.
I don’t know why Mama just crossed my mind all of the sudden. Heck… What am I talking about? She’s constantly on my mind. I don’t know how to get her off of it.
The truth is that it feels sort of like a betrayal to try to push her out of my head. How dare I try to not think of her?
I wonder how long will I feel like this? Will I ever get to a place when I can wash dishes, lie in my lover’s bed, enjoy a great dinner, listen to an emotionally driven gospel song, or fall asleep without thinking of Mama?
Do I even want to get to a place where I don’t think of her all the time? I’m not sure. I think so. But again, how can I let my thoughts of her escape me without feeling bad for leaving her behind?
I wish I knew I would have had all of these thoughts and feelings upon her death before she died. I would’ve certainly handled my time with her differently.
Oh, well… It is what it is. I can’t recapture the past and make it into something new or different. The only think I can do is remember it for what it was. And one thing I am glad of is that my memories of Mama are for the most part fond. The only memories that bring me pain are the ones that contain my and her physical health problems.
Good night, world. I’m going to read a new book. Interestingly enough, the book is called Memory Man. Isn’t it a bit ironic that I am now thinking about my memory right before I picked up this new book?
It appears that I get some kind of solace from writing about my grief and sorrow. I don’t know. Well, until I figure it out, I’ll be using this 2015 version of the pen and pad to help me cope.
I don’t know why Mama just crossed my mind all of the sudden. Heck… What am I talking about? She’s constantly on my mind. I don’t know how to get her off of it.
The truth is that it feels sort of like a betrayal to try to push her out of my head. How dare I try to not think of her?
I wonder how long will I feel like this? Will I ever get to a place when I can wash dishes, lie in my lover’s bed, enjoy a great dinner, listen to an emotionally driven gospel song, or fall asleep without thinking of Mama?
Do I even want to get to a place where I don’t think of her all the time? I’m not sure. I think so. But again, how can I let my thoughts of her escape me without feeling bad for leaving her behind?
I wish I knew I would have had all of these thoughts and feelings upon her death before she died. I would’ve certainly handled my time with her differently.
Oh, well… It is what it is. I can’t recapture the past and make it into something new or different. The only think I can do is remember it for what it was. And one thing I am glad of is that my memories of Mama are for the most part fond. The only memories that bring me pain are the ones that contain my and her physical health problems.
Good night, world. I’m going to read a new book. Interestingly enough, the book is called Memory Man. Isn’t it a bit ironic that I am now thinking about my memory right before I picked up this new book?
Sunday, September 27, 2015
My Undeniable Grief
One of my sisters accused me of not grieving over the death of my mother like she thought I should. I told her that I’m not the type to put my personal grief on display on a public stage for everyone to see or approve of. It’s my grief and it belongs to me. I’m not interested in getting others to validate my grief.
And the truth is that I certainly have no motivation to convince her, of all people, that I’m truly grief stricken about my mother’s final departure. All of my sisters should realize what a loss I’ve experienced in the death of my mother. For the last thirteen years, I put my life on hold to give my mother life. And the other day, all the life I have given her wasn’t enough. She slipped from my grip and life departed from her as she rested quietly in a hospital room on the 25th floor.
Knowing the professional challenges that I already had because of my disability, I chose to quit my job and care for my mother, who required 24-hours of care and supervision. I put my personal and professional dreams and aspirations on an indefinite layaway plan for thirteen years to be a full-time caregiver to my mother. And now that mom is gone, I do indeed have more free time. But now, I simply don’t know what to do with myself.
From 27 to 41, my life was on loan to the most important woman in my world. I now feel like a lost library book, looking for a shelf to rest on or someone to pick up and read to gain knowledge. Not only am I sad about Mama’s death, I feel void of direction.
I’m 41, with a significant disability (total blindness), no kids, no husband or significant other, no full-time job, no significant ownership in any property, and no Mama to take care of. I’m not only grieving for Mama, I’m grieving over what has been lost when she left me: my primary purpose for the last thirteen years.
But with all that being said, I’m still mostly sad for the loss of my mother’s life. I miss her and think incessantly about her. I wish so badly I could call her, touch her arm, hear her laugh, fix her some ice water, iron her clothes, give her a piece of candy, play a gospel song for her to enjoy, tell her a story about my college students, or give her a kiss on the cheek.
I’m I grieving the death of my mama? You damn straight I am.
I find myself grieving quietly and privately throughout the day while loading clothes in the washer, while washing dishes, while teaching my classes, and even while sitting on the sofa doing absolutely nothing.
Yesterday, I was chewing a piece of gum and enjoying the savory taste of the sugars in the gum. And without any warning, grief struck me in the belly. I was reminded how my mother was begging for water, ice chips, and a wet towel to put in her mouth as she was dying. She said her mouth was so so very dry. When the nurses weren’t looking, we put tiny drops of ice on her tongue to allow her some comfort in her dying moments.
When that thought entered my mind, I pulled that piece of gum out of my mouth, let down the passenger window of my sister’s car, and tossed the chewed up piece of gum out the window on to the freeway. My sister was like, “What’s wrong with you?” Before I knew it, I was blasting her and telling her how and why I was so offended when she accused me of not grieving. I told her that my grief pops up all the time and rather unexpectantly. And no one… And I mean no one has the right to tell me I’m not grieving the loss of my mother.
In the next few weeks, months, and perhaps years to come, I will continue to have memories of Mama that will haunt me rather than provide me comfort. My only prayer is that my grief is replaced with thanksgiving and joy as I heal and recover from the second greatest challenge of my life: the loss of my mom.
(I’ll give you one guess of what is the greatest challenge of my life.)
And the truth is that I certainly have no motivation to convince her, of all people, that I’m truly grief stricken about my mother’s final departure. All of my sisters should realize what a loss I’ve experienced in the death of my mother. For the last thirteen years, I put my life on hold to give my mother life. And the other day, all the life I have given her wasn’t enough. She slipped from my grip and life departed from her as she rested quietly in a hospital room on the 25th floor.
Knowing the professional challenges that I already had because of my disability, I chose to quit my job and care for my mother, who required 24-hours of care and supervision. I put my personal and professional dreams and aspirations on an indefinite layaway plan for thirteen years to be a full-time caregiver to my mother. And now that mom is gone, I do indeed have more free time. But now, I simply don’t know what to do with myself.
From 27 to 41, my life was on loan to the most important woman in my world. I now feel like a lost library book, looking for a shelf to rest on or someone to pick up and read to gain knowledge. Not only am I sad about Mama’s death, I feel void of direction.
I’m 41, with a significant disability (total blindness), no kids, no husband or significant other, no full-time job, no significant ownership in any property, and no Mama to take care of. I’m not only grieving for Mama, I’m grieving over what has been lost when she left me: my primary purpose for the last thirteen years.
But with all that being said, I’m still mostly sad for the loss of my mother’s life. I miss her and think incessantly about her. I wish so badly I could call her, touch her arm, hear her laugh, fix her some ice water, iron her clothes, give her a piece of candy, play a gospel song for her to enjoy, tell her a story about my college students, or give her a kiss on the cheek.
I’m I grieving the death of my mama? You damn straight I am.
I find myself grieving quietly and privately throughout the day while loading clothes in the washer, while washing dishes, while teaching my classes, and even while sitting on the sofa doing absolutely nothing.
Yesterday, I was chewing a piece of gum and enjoying the savory taste of the sugars in the gum. And without any warning, grief struck me in the belly. I was reminded how my mother was begging for water, ice chips, and a wet towel to put in her mouth as she was dying. She said her mouth was so so very dry. When the nurses weren’t looking, we put tiny drops of ice on her tongue to allow her some comfort in her dying moments.
When that thought entered my mind, I pulled that piece of gum out of my mouth, let down the passenger window of my sister’s car, and tossed the chewed up piece of gum out the window on to the freeway. My sister was like, “What’s wrong with you?” Before I knew it, I was blasting her and telling her how and why I was so offended when she accused me of not grieving. I told her that my grief pops up all the time and rather unexpectantly. And no one… And I mean no one has the right to tell me I’m not grieving the loss of my mother.
In the next few weeks, months, and perhaps years to come, I will continue to have memories of Mama that will haunt me rather than provide me comfort. My only prayer is that my grief is replaced with thanksgiving and joy as I heal and recover from the second greatest challenge of my life: the loss of my mom.
(I’ll give you one guess of what is the greatest challenge of my life.)
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