I stood in the hallway asking what was next. I had just talked to Fred about the death of his father. Two major deaths in our worlds so close together. I realized while speaking to him about his own loss...I hadn't even BEGUN to deal with my own. The hallway is outside of my mother's room. The room I would run into a dozen times a day for a million reasons. I've been avoiding it. If I HAD to enter at all it was out of necessity and was done so at a speedy pace. Today...I was pulled in. I breathed it all in for a moment and was led to the top drawer of her dresser. As a child it was like a treasure chest that I felt lucky to dig through. I don't know the last time I was in it. I opened it and found a notebook that I have never laid my eyes upon. It is a marble composition book, the kind you had in elementary school. Only a few pages have writing. The first entry is a poem with four parts. Each one is dedicated to a season and the view and sounds from her porch. Her writing is similar to mine or I should say mine is to hers. Ironically, this past year I was writing seasonal poems myself. The first time I was dipping back into poetry since childhood. I figured out the timing of it all from a few clues in the last paragraph. It was 1993. My mother had been committed to the hospital for a period of time for an overdose. This poem was part of her therapy.
My mother had broken down. It wasn't the first time. I believe my mother took on the weight of the world. She absorbed emotions and fears and feelings from those around her. She took them and carried them in the hopes that it would make the person lighter. She held onto them and would crumble as the burden got too big for her weakened state. I say I understand because I believe I do the same thing. She would come back stronger each time. She would be charged and ready for life and the next chapter. I understand the breakdowns so much more now. I see the patterns and numbness that are followed by some enlightenment and new attitudes. I see how she grew wiser and calmer with each one. How much she had truly released for the better. This year has been a whirlwind of emotions concerning my mother. I am seeing so many things differently. I am realizing the selfless woman she could be, the selfish woman she tried not to be and the lapses in between where the two would collide.
I also understand the breaking down. The numbness to mask the pain. The "crazy" to feel something again. The need to start anew and make clean and fresh habits for a life that HAD to change. It is hard for a woman for we change within our own lives so often. We go from daughters to women to wives to mothers. In the dedication to each new role we lose ourselves. Cliche or not...it's the truth. Somewhere at the end of it we find solace in being all of the roles at once. It doesn't come easy though and looking back at so many women I see that this breaking down is quite common. But like the tree you prune in the fall...it will grow back more lush and healthier than ever.
I will keep a page with her writing nearby as an inspiration because something tells me that she whispered to me today in the hallway to find it...
Wishing you time
to enjoy the little treasure each day holds.
Wishing you quiet
to be able to hear the stirrings of your inner self.
Wishing you laughter
to help surmount life's heartaches and disappointments.
Wishing you calm
to free you from problems and stress.
Wishing you dreams
to keep you going.
Wishing you friends
to bring you joy,
to warm your heart
and to make you feel at home in the world.
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