Life Without Mom

The house is blissfully quiet and still. An airplane buzzes overhead. My first thought is to call mom and talk, about anything and everything or perhaps nothing in particular.

That’s not an option anymore.

It’s been a busy week, with my aunt’s funeral in Florida and getting my youngest daughter back to college. A lot of moving around, so being still and quiet has its appeal. I start thinking of how life has already changed in the past 5 weeks:

--I talk to mom in absentia

--My siblings and I have a weekly call

--I check in with my dad daily

--There are acknowledgment notes to write

--I've started to get hot flashes!

The last is an interesting phenomenon, and not welcome especially in the heat of the summer. Something must have been triggered in my body’s chemistry (undoubtedly due to stress). I’ve not had time to focus on possible remedies, but I’m going to get busy and see if I can’t “re-balance” things. It’s obvious something is “off-kilter.” Amazing my body presents a living illustration.

The Jewish holidays are approaching, when mom and I would cook together. She and dad starting coming up to our temple years ago to attend services, and it was a time of being together to start a new year. As much as I have been trying to take one day at a time, I am keenly aware these days are almost upon us, and I know we will all feel the loss, the hole, the empty place that mom would have occupied.

I am told that getting through the first of everything over the next year is a process in itself, and after that, it will get easier. Just allowing time to pass is healing. When I’m busy, and I’ve seen this with my father too, it is easier, with other activities to occupy and distract us. It’s the quiet times when my thoughts drift to mom. And for my dad, the evenings and weekends alone are the hardest.

Being in my body keeps me rooted here on earth, and so yoga, exercise, meditation, spending time with friends and family, and work all help to keep me grounded. I still remind myself it will take time tofeel as if life is normal. Or maybe it will just be a new-normal.

Seeing Through The Haze

There are times in life when our focus gets so narrowed, the rest of the world slips away. We bring all our attention, energy and emotions to bear on the event, and often, it is over fairly quickly. Studying for final exams comes to mind, or getting ready for a big presentation or performance.

When a loved one is critically ill, like my mother is now, the rest of the world falls away. So many of my waking hours are focused on her that I feel detached from the rest of my life. I know it's a beautiful day outside: I see it and have actually walked outside to get from my car to the hospital. And yet, I find myself not experiencing it. To maintain my sense of self and stay grounded, I have to force through that cocoon-like haze and do some things that bring me back to the natural world. Yesterday, I went for a walk for the first time in my new neighborhood. This morning, when I opened the door to get the paper, I opened it wider and stood there listening to the birds singing their hearts out welcoming the day.

It's true I am taking part in almost no outside activities these days, and I'm not sure how the near future will unfold. As in all things, there is a balance and I will work on finding it. Meditation, yoga, journaling, spending time with friends and connection with nature are some ways I'm holding on to myself and my world.