Friday, August 26, 2011

Oh, good grief

This has been one of those sneaky weeks. The kind that are busy and full of good stuff. Moments to celebrate. Schedules to nail down. Routines to establish. A busy kind of week that doesn't afford much contemplation time. (Wait a minute, my current life doesn't afford me much contemplation time, but that's another post.)

Because of that, I was a bit surprised when a wave of emotion hit me the other day. A smack of grief that I wasn't planning on. Then again, that is the nature of grief. It's unpredictable and unplanned.

This is a week that my mom and I would have been on the phone about five times a day. With so much going on and so much new and exciting. She would have wanted every detail of Olivia's first day of Kindergarten. She would have wanted to know about her class room, what she wore, what her new friends are like, what her stories were. My mom would have wanted details even I don't care about. She would have been seething with anger about the bus situation. She would have felt my pain and my anxiety. Then she and I would have laughed and laughed.

She wouldn't believe what a confident girl our Olivia has turned into. The last she knew, Olivia was struggling with fear and anxiety at school. She would never believe that yesterday, Olivia read a book to the class. The last my mom knew, O had an adorable short hair cut. She would be surprised that her hair is now able to be put into an *up* pony tail. (And she would definitely have an opinion on that... she loved O's hair short.)

My mom would have wanted to know about the notes that I write on her napkin at lunch everyday. She would want to know what I packed- a hard boiled egg, fruit, pretzels and a juice box, fyi. She would laugh at the fact that O didn't eat breakfast at school the other day because they "served unhealthy muffins with chocolate chips in them." (She certainly did not get that from me... or my mom! We live(d) for unhealthy muffins.)

There's not time nor room to mention all that we would be discussing about the brothers getting ready for their first day of school. Oh sweet mercy the time I would log in on phone calls with her this year. Then there would be the topics of my hair coming in, my return to spinning class after 8 months off, my addiction to Pinterest and the 20+ recipes I've tried and my recent attempts (again) at organizing my life.

All things that only a mother, in specific, my mother would care about. Sigh.

I've started accepting and adapting to life with out my best listener. My best question asker. (Shoot, it's been over a year, I should be adapting.) But those sneaky weeks really take me by surprise. So, on behalf of myself, and my mom, thanks for listening!


Kris said...

I will listen anytime!

Cindy Q said...

E, Your mom was great. We all miss her. On my computer, when it goes into "energy saver Mode" (dont know what it's called), pictures will randomly come up on my screen. Yesterday a pic of your mom holding Carin came up and I smiled. Your mom had a great smile. Love you, Cindy
PS You are such a journalist... building up the suspense for an update on your hair. You've mentioned it in two blogs, but haven't given US the details.

Stacie@HobbitDoor said...

Praying for today. Grief is very sneaky.

KTC said...

We all want to know what Olivia had for lunch!! Gives us good ideas! :)

The Halters said...

this is sooooo normal. i, too, never know when flash backs of memories, emotions, laughs....of my dad and my brother will slide in or hit me like a ton of bricks. it's helpful to hear from others who really know what the experience is like...and aren't afraid to share it.

you are a brave and wonderful creation of God....i thank him AND your mom :)

Heather Ruetschle said...

My mom would have been 60 yesterday. My middle son started kindergarten this week and she'd have loved it! Receiving mail addressed to her still gets me...happens when I least expect it. Hang in there!

Lisa E. said...

I know you don't know me, but I've been reading your blog for quite some time now; I have admired your strength and courage, your gutsiness, your sense of humor, and your "human-ness". I felt led to write to you today because I lost my mom 25 years ago to breast cancer - she was 43 when she died; I am now 47. She lived for a year after I got married, but didn't live to see her 4 grandchildren. It still hits me at random times-the overwhelming desire to pick up the phone and call her, a memory will surface unexpectedly. So I know kind of what you're feeling and I want you to know I'll be praying for you. Hugs!!