Dear Mamacita,
Oh my God... This is really going to happen, isn't it? Thanksgiving without you. I thought I was doing ok today. Sort of numb to all the things going on around me. Choosing to disengage on some level, I guess. But your babies are tipping the scales of my emotional balance (what there is of it). We were in the van going to Target (again) and Monster Max said "Momma, I miss Nana.. Where she?" And later that day Sam said "Hey mom, remember that Thanksgiving that nana came to our house? It was such a good day. I miss her.. You know that picture of her I have in my room? I was thinking that maybe we could put it on the table when we have Thanksgiving dinner and then it would kinda be like she was with us". I told him that was a great idea, and we are going to do that. Each time the kids ask about you it's like a dagger to my heart. My heart hurts for my own loss, and it hurts for their little hearts too. I get so angry that they have to grow up without you. I can tell them how much you love them, and remind them of all our favorite memories together, but you should be here to do it yourself and to love them.
Then I called Dayton tonight. The phone call went well, but it pushed me over the edge. He's having dinner with his new friend and her grown up kids and grandkids. I don't begrudge him that, but everything just feels wrong about it. I think it hit me that things really aren't ever going to be the same again. Last year we were all together and it was a perfect day. Now, you're not here, Dayton is going somewhere different and we are going to Dave's parents house. And I have no idea where Adam might be spending his Thanksgiving. Probably in some hell hole, thinking that nobody care about him anymore, now that you're gone. It just feels like our family is shattered and scattered. There's no sense of completeness, or peace, or safety.
I miss your excitement about Thanksgiving. You loved this holiday even more than Christmas. Thanksgiving is only about family and being thankful the things we have in this life. You loved all the cooking prep. It was always so much work when you would host, but everybody loved gathering at your house. The food was always perfect and abundant. Everyone always looked forward to the pies for dessert. And you took such pride and joy in making them. They were your favorite thing to make. You were everything that was Thanksgiving. When I picture thanksgivings with you I see your beautiful, shining face. You loved it. I remember coming up early to help you cook and get things ready. I loved setting the table so formally with all the best china and cloth napkins folded elegantly. I remember how wonderful and mouth-watering the house would smell with the turkey baking and the sides cooking. I always made the cranberry sauce and the real whipped cream. We worked together so well and so joyfully together. It was always exhausting but so satisfying and soul refreshing to have everyone there in your house together. Sharing a beautiful meal, the laughter all around, feeling at ease with each other and seeing the various clumps of family members talking in small groups around the house. Usually there was a new baby to hold and fight for, and small children always under foot. That's what made it perfect and complete.
Now what?
How do I go on tomorrow when my heart is broken and all I want is you? I want to hear your laugh and to hear you wish me and the kids and Dave happy thanksgiving. Dave's family loved you too, and now our hearts are broken again with the loss of Dave K. Too many people are missing from the table mom. I'm having trouble finding the right attitude to be thankful for anything. I know there are things I'm thankful for, such as my amazing husband, my fristers, Dave's mom and dad, my girlfriends, my kids, a warm house, blankets, a comfortable bed, enough food and money to pay the bills. But it all seems secondary to the pain I feel right now.
The pain I feel now and earlier tonight was as intense as when you first died. I've been really struggling in the last week or so. I've been under an onslaught of the intense images and feelings from the night/morning you died. All I can think of sometimes is the physicalness of your body as you laid there, stepping into your next life. The weight or you hand in mine, the feel of my head on your chest, as my tears soaked into your nightgown, my hand on your forehead, and the sight of the funeral home guy wheeling your body out of the house. I think of you laying in your casket. What was in there, what you looked like. I still can't stand the smell of mixed flowers. They make me nauseous now because it takes me back to the funeral home. I miss the physical feel of your hug. The way you would always touch me as you passed by me.. a touch on the head or shoulders or back.. enough to tell me without words how much you loved me.
So because my body was so racked with pain tonight I felt like I needed to "do" something, so I dusted off my nightstand all the things on our decorative shelves and then I moved on to the dresser. As I was sorting things, under a pile of papers, I found the last birthday card you ever gave me. October 5th, 2009. It was right after we just found out how bad the cancer was, and the slim chances of your survival. it was like you knew what might happen and wanted to send me love and encouragement. I think that you intended for me to find it again tonight, over a year later, on a day I was desperate for your love. Here's what you wrote to me:
"How I waited for you and loved you from the moment I knew you were coming. That love will never die Erika, but will bless you and comfort you always. All my love forever, Erika. Mom."
Mom, even typing this makes me cry again. Damn Damn Damn! I both love and hate this card. I want you! Not a card to get me through the next 50 years of my life. I miss you mamacita. All I can do is sit here and cry. My life will never be the same and it feels like the pain will never stop. I just want the pain to stop and I want you back. The despair and rage I feel tonight is so raw and so strong. It scares me. If I didn't have Dave, I don't know what I would do. I think I would have given up or ended up in an institution somewhere. I'm so tired mama. I feel like I could sleep for days. I wish I could sleep for days. I just want to be alone. I need my rocks in Grand Marais. I need an escape from the pain. I need to be able to go somewhere and process. I need to go somewhere where no one expects anything of me. Where I'm not a teacher, not a mom, not a friend who needs to give back, somewhere I can just be a grieving daughter. Somewhere that people understand that. I'm fairly sure that place doesn't exist. Maybe when the weather gets warmer again I can get away from everything and go be with you.
There's a quote from Winnie the Pooh that my friend Jen C.-M. posted in facebook that really meant a lot to me. I thought you might like to read it mom. It goes like this:
"How does one become a butterfly?" Pooh asked pensively.
"You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar," Piglet replied.
"You mean to die?" asked Pooh.
"Yes and no" he answered.
"What looks like you will die, but what's REALLY you will live on."
- A.A. Milne
I know you can't explain to me what it's like where you are or what you are like now. I just long to have the confirmation that you still remember me and feel my love wherever you are. I know that a love like ours doesn't just die. It echoes on into eternity. Just can't wait to be there with you.
I've been working on your quilt mama. I can't wait to get it done so that I can wrap myself up in you whenever I need to feel you. It's difficult to handle your clothing, but I know the end result will be worth the tears and anxiety I have while making it.
We are going up to Hinckley on Saturday. We are going out to your house. I asked Dayton if I could have a few things of yours to have around me. Even table cloths or some Christmas decorations. I'd really love to have all of your jewelry, but I'm afraid to ask Dayton, for fear that he may say no. Maybe it would help him let go of it if he knew I wasn't going to sell or destroy it. I want to keep your beautiful wedding ring for Sam or Max to one day give to their fiance. I just need some of your things to be in my life. I hope our visit with Dayton goes well and the kids enjoy seeing him again. We are going to stop out at your gravesite.
I love you so much mamacita. Please hold me tonight as I sleep and be with me tomorrow. Give me the Grace and Courage I'll need to get through the day. You were the light in my life and the shield to my past. In my next letter to you, I want to talk more about shields.
Good night Mamacita, Find me in my dreams.
Forever yours,
Erika
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
A Few of My Favorite Things
Dear Mamacita,
I felt you... There's a massage/Reiki place in the same building that I go to counseling in and as I walked past there it smelled so good. I knew it was somewhere I wanted to go. I wrote down the number of the place and called to make an appointment for a massage. Last Wednesday after my counseling session, I went there for the first time and got the best massage of my entire life. When I walked into the treatment room, it was like walking into Hawaii. It smelled so delicious, there was soft tropical music playing, the walls were all decorated in Hawaiian decor, and the therapist I saw was certified in lomi lomi massage. I told her about our connection to Hawaii and she told me hers. I found out that she has also lost her mother. She totally understood about the healing that comes from being in Hawaii, and while I was on that table, I could feel you in the room, taking care of me, and enjoying the fact that I was being taken care of. This was the first time that I knew with certainty that you were there with me. I love you so much Mom. Tessa, the massage therapist, told me that sometimes people can try too hard to "see" or "feel" the person they are missing. And like everyone who has lost someone very close to them has told me, I will find you in my soul, in my heart. Maybe the veil of the darkest, deepest depression is lifting, and so I can sense you better. I'm not sure. There are still times that the pain is so overwhelming that I can't breathe and feel like I'm falling apart. I know there will always be moments like that.
I've been trying to focus on the positive things in life. It's not easy, but there are many things I love, things that make me happy. So I decided to write them down. Here's the list Mamacita. Enjoy!
*my kids' giggles and belly laughs
*a hot bath by candlelight
*rum
*small jeans
*conquering fears
*going out to O'Donovan's with Dave
*feeling Dave's hug
*the "I love you" sign from Sam
*girlfriends!
*laughing till I cry
*watching a good movie
*the 1st drink of coffee in the morning
*how I feel *after* working out
*magical teaching moments
*holding my kids tight
*the smell of Hawaii
*oatmeal from Caribou
*holding hands
*texting ;-)
*pedicures
*music
*concerts
*bowling league
*lipstick
*reaching goals
*happy hour
*sunsets
*going home again
*family parties
*Vikings football
*quiet time when the kids are in bed
*a clean house
*getting things organized
*feeling the sun soaking into my skin
*grown-up retreats
*4-wheeling
*thunderstorms
*the smell of thanksgiving
*kissing
*sharing massages
*surprises
*looking at my scrapbooks
*climbing into our bed with fresh sheets
*romantic birthday dates
*musicals
*when Dave says "pump n munch"
*the first and last days of school
*decorating the Christmas tree
*making Christmas cookies with girlfriends
*watching the kids open presents
*finding the perfect gift for Dave
*getting cards
*my birthday
*the word "giggidy"
*frogs croaking at night
*falling asleep to the lull of familiar voices
*stars out in the country
*the full moon
*short skirts
*"are you even speaking English"?!
*coffee with girlfriends
*the "Barefoot Bar" in Waikiki
*developing great friendships
I'll add more later Momma... I need a shower and to get to bed. I love and miss you.
All my love and then some,
Erika
I felt you... There's a massage/Reiki place in the same building that I go to counseling in and as I walked past there it smelled so good. I knew it was somewhere I wanted to go. I wrote down the number of the place and called to make an appointment for a massage. Last Wednesday after my counseling session, I went there for the first time and got the best massage of my entire life. When I walked into the treatment room, it was like walking into Hawaii. It smelled so delicious, there was soft tropical music playing, the walls were all decorated in Hawaiian decor, and the therapist I saw was certified in lomi lomi massage. I told her about our connection to Hawaii and she told me hers. I found out that she has also lost her mother. She totally understood about the healing that comes from being in Hawaii, and while I was on that table, I could feel you in the room, taking care of me, and enjoying the fact that I was being taken care of. This was the first time that I knew with certainty that you were there with me. I love you so much Mom. Tessa, the massage therapist, told me that sometimes people can try too hard to "see" or "feel" the person they are missing. And like everyone who has lost someone very close to them has told me, I will find you in my soul, in my heart. Maybe the veil of the darkest, deepest depression is lifting, and so I can sense you better. I'm not sure. There are still times that the pain is so overwhelming that I can't breathe and feel like I'm falling apart. I know there will always be moments like that.
I've been trying to focus on the positive things in life. It's not easy, but there are many things I love, things that make me happy. So I decided to write them down. Here's the list Mamacita. Enjoy!
*my kids' giggles and belly laughs
*a hot bath by candlelight
*rum
*small jeans
*conquering fears
*going out to O'Donovan's with Dave
*feeling Dave's hug
*the "I love you" sign from Sam
*girlfriends!
*laughing till I cry
*watching a good movie
*the 1st drink of coffee in the morning
*how I feel *after* working out
*magical teaching moments
*holding my kids tight
*the smell of Hawaii
*oatmeal from Caribou
*holding hands
*texting ;-)
*pedicures
*music
*concerts
*bowling league
*lipstick
*reaching goals
*happy hour
*sunsets
*going home again
*family parties
*Vikings football
*quiet time when the kids are in bed
*a clean house
*getting things organized
*feeling the sun soaking into my skin
*grown-up retreats
*4-wheeling
*thunderstorms
*the smell of thanksgiving
*kissing
*sharing massages
*surprises
*looking at my scrapbooks
*climbing into our bed with fresh sheets
*romantic birthday dates
*musicals
*when Dave says "pump n munch"
*the first and last days of school
*decorating the Christmas tree
*making Christmas cookies with girlfriends
*watching the kids open presents
*finding the perfect gift for Dave
*getting cards
*my birthday
*the word "giggidy"
*frogs croaking at night
*falling asleep to the lull of familiar voices
*stars out in the country
*the full moon
*short skirts
*"are you even speaking English"?!
*coffee with girlfriends
*the "Barefoot Bar" in Waikiki
*developing great friendships
I'll add more later Momma... I need a shower and to get to bed. I love and miss you.
All my love and then some,
Erika
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Holes and Filters
Dear Mamacita,
This was supposed to be our weekend. Every hunting opener weekend, you would always come down and stay with me and the boys. We would go shopping, trying to keep the kids from fighting all day, and go out to a nice dinner in the evenings. Do you remember two years ago when we went to the Olive Garden for dinner with the boys? I thought it would be a huge mistake to take the boys out to eat there, but they ended up being as good as gold, and they both ate all their dinner! It was like a miracle! And you and I actually got to enjoy the meal and a glass of wine with it. It was one of those perfect nights together. I loved the quiet time we would have together after the kids were in bed. We'd have such great conversations. My favorite thing was getting up early with you (like 5:00) and having coffee and conversations together at the kitchen table or in the livingroom, or on the deck.. Mornings were always the best time for you, when you felt the best physically, and mentally. It was during these talks that I could tell you anything and everything. I could cry and laugh with you. You understood all I had been through and where I've come from. You knew what made me the way I am today, both good and bad. God, I miss those talks.
I'm really struggling, mom, to figure out how to fill the holes in my life that you have left. You were a filter for our family. Adam is in a bad situation right now, of his own doing, and I have to find out 2nd or 3rd hand what's happened, instead of from you. Too many family members are involved and facts get changed and no one really knows what's going on. I'm not sure I can do this without you. We always had each other to lean on when it came to Adam's issues. Now I feel like I'm left adrift to deal with the stress of it all without your love and understanding and guidance. I also miss your way of facilitating our relationships with Dayton. I'm not sure what he wants or how he feels about maintaining our relationships. I don't know what he really wants from me (us). I wish you were here to just set him straight and tell him what he really needs to hear.
Next weekend I am going to bring your cross up to your grave. I'm looking forward to giving you the respect that you deserve with having your name there, and maybe feeling some peace when it's all done. I need to be there again to talk to you, to be close to you, to know that a part of you is physically close to me. I hope that you like the cross. I do! Monica and Brian went beyond my expectations when they made it for me. I hope that it holds up through the winter.
The kids are fighting and making me crazy, so I'm going to go now mamacita. I'm gonna start some laundry and then get out and go to Target just to get out of the house with the kids for awhile. Next time I write I need to talk to you about Thanksgiving Mom... *sigh*
I love you mom. Please send me some patience. I'm going to need it today.
Missing our Chats,
Me
This was supposed to be our weekend. Every hunting opener weekend, you would always come down and stay with me and the boys. We would go shopping, trying to keep the kids from fighting all day, and go out to a nice dinner in the evenings. Do you remember two years ago when we went to the Olive Garden for dinner with the boys? I thought it would be a huge mistake to take the boys out to eat there, but they ended up being as good as gold, and they both ate all their dinner! It was like a miracle! And you and I actually got to enjoy the meal and a glass of wine with it. It was one of those perfect nights together. I loved the quiet time we would have together after the kids were in bed. We'd have such great conversations. My favorite thing was getting up early with you (like 5:00) and having coffee and conversations together at the kitchen table or in the livingroom, or on the deck.. Mornings were always the best time for you, when you felt the best physically, and mentally. It was during these talks that I could tell you anything and everything. I could cry and laugh with you. You understood all I had been through and where I've come from. You knew what made me the way I am today, both good and bad. God, I miss those talks.
I'm really struggling, mom, to figure out how to fill the holes in my life that you have left. You were a filter for our family. Adam is in a bad situation right now, of his own doing, and I have to find out 2nd or 3rd hand what's happened, instead of from you. Too many family members are involved and facts get changed and no one really knows what's going on. I'm not sure I can do this without you. We always had each other to lean on when it came to Adam's issues. Now I feel like I'm left adrift to deal with the stress of it all without your love and understanding and guidance. I also miss your way of facilitating our relationships with Dayton. I'm not sure what he wants or how he feels about maintaining our relationships. I don't know what he really wants from me (us). I wish you were here to just set him straight and tell him what he really needs to hear.
Next weekend I am going to bring your cross up to your grave. I'm looking forward to giving you the respect that you deserve with having your name there, and maybe feeling some peace when it's all done. I need to be there again to talk to you, to be close to you, to know that a part of you is physically close to me. I hope that you like the cross. I do! Monica and Brian went beyond my expectations when they made it for me. I hope that it holds up through the winter.
The kids are fighting and making me crazy, so I'm going to go now mamacita. I'm gonna start some laundry and then get out and go to Target just to get out of the house with the kids for awhile. Next time I write I need to talk to you about Thanksgiving Mom... *sigh*
I love you mom. Please send me some patience. I'm going to need it today.
Missing our Chats,
Me
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Pacies and Trust
Dear Mamacita,
It's been a difficult couple of days. Who am I kidding? It's been a difficult year. In the last two days I've had one obsessive thought that I can't get rid of. Let me back up a minute though. In my therapy sessions I've been talking to Sally about how to get rid of the painful, sad, icky images I have of you in my head. The images of you in pain, in the I.C.U., being intubated, wheelchair-bound, helpless, and finally in your casket. She told me that they only way to get through them is to not be afraid of them when they come, to actually think about them and draw them out if I need to, but to confront them. So two days ago I was thinking of you laying in your casket. I was driving so I couldn't draw it, but I imagined drawing it in my head. I was thinking about what you were wearing, how you were laying, the look on your face, and the things that were in your casket with you. There was Mrs. Jumbo, from your Sam Sam, the tiny picture of you holding Sam's hand when he was two years old, and your favorite picture of me and you. All of a sudden I realized that I didn't give you anything from Max.
All I can think about right now is that I should have put one of his pacies in your casket for you with you. Why didn't I do that, Mom? Will Max one day resent that I didn't give you something of him to have with you? I guess I just wasn't thinking clearly momma. I guess I was giving you what Sam and I needed you to have, because we were hurting so badly. Max was aware of our pain, but obviously didn't understand what was happening. Maybe I'm starting to realize all the things that Max is going to miss out on, not having you in his life. Sam has so many connections to you, and special memories of you. I will work hard to make sure Max knows how much you love him. I miss giving you the "Monster Max" updates everyday. It would make me laugh and relax from the stresses of mommyhood when you would ask me "Did Max get a spanking yet today?" Or you would say "What has my Monster Max gotten into today?" I miss those chats mom. I miss everything. I miss your sweet voice telling me that everything is going to be ok, and that I really do love Maxwell even though he's unrolled the entire roll of toilet paper, destroyed stacks of freshly laundered and folded clothes, fought with his brother, and peed on the floor.
I've also been struggling with things I can't control, things I couldn't or can't fix. Sally said to make a list of everything I can't fix. I'm kind of scared to open that box in my heart. I wondered how far back I should go, and immediately knew the answer to that. All the way as far back as I can remember. Wherever the hurts or problems started. I'm going to do that mama. I know that each step I take is a healing one. So, maybe to move forward I need to go back, back to where things started. I worry that if I share everything with Dave he'll see how screwed up my family really was. What if he is like "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" I'm not proud of how screwed up everything was for a long time mom, and I don't want to change how Dave looks at me. Part of my brain knows that he doesn't scare easily and he's already made up his mind about me, and isn't going anywhere, but there's a small part that still says "No one has ever proven they will stay in your life..." I know this is all about trust. I know I have "trust issues". I'm working on it Mom.
Mamacita, will you please visit me in my dreams and send me an unmistakable sign that you are still with me? I need something mom to know you are still all around me. When I said I couldn't feel you, someone I trust said she thinks I am filled with you, that we are always together. Maybe I need the fog to be lifted from my heart before I can totally "see" you here with me. I'll be thinking of you as I go to sleep tonight mom, and again when I wake up. I miss you. I love you. I need you. My life isn't the same without you in it. There is a huge void in my life and a huge hole in my chest. My chest still aches with the loss, my eyes won't stop crying, my arms ache to hold you. I long to smell you, to hug you, to talk for hours and hours...
Love and More Love,
Erika
It's been a difficult couple of days. Who am I kidding? It's been a difficult year. In the last two days I've had one obsessive thought that I can't get rid of. Let me back up a minute though. In my therapy sessions I've been talking to Sally about how to get rid of the painful, sad, icky images I have of you in my head. The images of you in pain, in the I.C.U., being intubated, wheelchair-bound, helpless, and finally in your casket. She told me that they only way to get through them is to not be afraid of them when they come, to actually think about them and draw them out if I need to, but to confront them. So two days ago I was thinking of you laying in your casket. I was driving so I couldn't draw it, but I imagined drawing it in my head. I was thinking about what you were wearing, how you were laying, the look on your face, and the things that were in your casket with you. There was Mrs. Jumbo, from your Sam Sam, the tiny picture of you holding Sam's hand when he was two years old, and your favorite picture of me and you. All of a sudden I realized that I didn't give you anything from Max.
All I can think about right now is that I should have put one of his pacies in your casket for you with you. Why didn't I do that, Mom? Will Max one day resent that I didn't give you something of him to have with you? I guess I just wasn't thinking clearly momma. I guess I was giving you what Sam and I needed you to have, because we were hurting so badly. Max was aware of our pain, but obviously didn't understand what was happening. Maybe I'm starting to realize all the things that Max is going to miss out on, not having you in his life. Sam has so many connections to you, and special memories of you. I will work hard to make sure Max knows how much you love him. I miss giving you the "Monster Max" updates everyday. It would make me laugh and relax from the stresses of mommyhood when you would ask me "Did Max get a spanking yet today?" Or you would say "What has my Monster Max gotten into today?" I miss those chats mom. I miss everything. I miss your sweet voice telling me that everything is going to be ok, and that I really do love Maxwell even though he's unrolled the entire roll of toilet paper, destroyed stacks of freshly laundered and folded clothes, fought with his brother, and peed on the floor.
I've also been struggling with things I can't control, things I couldn't or can't fix. Sally said to make a list of everything I can't fix. I'm kind of scared to open that box in my heart. I wondered how far back I should go, and immediately knew the answer to that. All the way as far back as I can remember. Wherever the hurts or problems started. I'm going to do that mama. I know that each step I take is a healing one. So, maybe to move forward I need to go back, back to where things started. I worry that if I share everything with Dave he'll see how screwed up my family really was. What if he is like "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" I'm not proud of how screwed up everything was for a long time mom, and I don't want to change how Dave looks at me. Part of my brain knows that he doesn't scare easily and he's already made up his mind about me, and isn't going anywhere, but there's a small part that still says "No one has ever proven they will stay in your life..." I know this is all about trust. I know I have "trust issues". I'm working on it Mom.
Mamacita, will you please visit me in my dreams and send me an unmistakable sign that you are still with me? I need something mom to know you are still all around me. When I said I couldn't feel you, someone I trust said she thinks I am filled with you, that we are always together. Maybe I need the fog to be lifted from my heart before I can totally "see" you here with me. I'll be thinking of you as I go to sleep tonight mom, and again when I wake up. I miss you. I love you. I need you. My life isn't the same without you in it. There is a huge void in my life and a huge hole in my chest. My chest still aches with the loss, my eyes won't stop crying, my arms ache to hold you. I long to smell you, to hug you, to talk for hours and hours...
Love and More Love,
Erika
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