Thanksgiving Storm

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