The last time I posted was about ten days ago. Life has happened between now and then. A new anti-anxiety medication has happened between now and then, and thrown my life into a bit of a spiral. Which I do not enjoy. At all. I feel like I"m hanging on by a thread MOST of the time----don't need some freaky side effects to flush my consciousness down the toilet. So I told the doctor NO. And I was proud of that. It means, though, that I have to deal with this continuing anxiety sans medecin. Bummer. Big weekend coming up.
But since my last rant, which I am sure qualifies as one, I am finding that jumping back into life too quickly isn't working for me. Y'all know I volunteered to be a wedding planner for a friend as her wedding gift. My thinking was that taking on a loving project would help balance the inner sadness that's still just below the surface. I threw myself into the planning of this wedding, and I though I am on top of things, I am exhausted. Happiness has its price, too, when one is still grieving. What's up with that? Overall, this was a good idea, but my last few weeks of sabbatical are covered with layers of work--getting ready for school, which starts insanely early this academic year, preparing myself mentally to go back to school/work after a year no one should have to endure, and have a happy face on: Gee, my sabbatical was SUPER, thanks for asking! My sabbatical project was completed, and I"ll post it on our dept's email so I don't have to answer the same questions a thousand times to people who really don't care anyway. Seems like a waste of time and energy, doesn't it?
This weekend, K and I are flying to CT to clean out my father's attic and garage, and sell his remaining car. We will also be going to see the gravestone in place for the first time. I was brave enough to contact my father's dearest friends to come and help at the house. They had offered, on the day of the funeral, if I ever needed anything, to let them know. I cried when I got their emails today. They'd already conferred, gotten my dad's crew together, and said when they'd be there. A colleague of my father's had offered the same, and volunteered her husband as well. And they said yes, too. What a testament to my father, that they loved him so much that they'll come and help *me*. His goodness continues to resonate. My heart is so full. My beloved aunt and cousin are coming up for the weekend, too. My sister? Don't know. I don't want my brother in law to come "help" so he can go shopping through my dad's possessions.
In order to prepare for this weekend, all bank statements and check registers, executor log, all needed to be copied for the attorney; documents for the house, car and investments all needed to be pulled for the meetings I need to squeeze in while we're there. I hope I remember to pack underwear and contact lens solution.
I am continually surprised by the amount of grief I am experiencing on a daily basis. I'm out and about, doing life, but there will be a spike, something that unlocks the box in which I am keeping my grief at bay. It's good that as time as gone by I recover from these bursts more quickly. But they do still come. It is difficult to talk about my father without tears welling. I'm okay with that, now, and am less embarrassed, because I can move through them, into another conversation, and go on...
Looking back on life since Christmas, I see the enormous range of growth I have been gifted. I am transformed. I see priorities so much more quickly, clearly. I have enormous reserves of strength and I am brave beyond what I *ever* knew I could be. I am much more vulnerable to beauty, to sadness, to joy. Sounds like I"ve gotten my shit together, huh? Hell, no. I'm still sleeping on the couch because I cannot yet face my bedroom. My goal is to have it ready for the beginning of the school year; I think this weekend's journey will help toward that. Another piece of closure, another door opens for my own growth.
We will be seeing friends this time, too. Staying with our beloveds M and K and their kids. Hope to see Rita, my mother's childhood friend; hope to see V, the woman who loved my father like the father she wished she had, and whose generosity made me love her, too. Always, so much to do in so little time. And always, far from home. I am craving hugs from my niece and nephew and longing for the beach.
Send me the vibes to achieve what I need to, and what I want to....I hope the Universe finds me worthy!
Namaste.
About Me
- Catherine
- In this blog I have created a haven, a place I allow my deepest emotions to go and sit. I can write easily about what I’ve accomplished. This biography I can recite in my sleep. But I’ve always written poetry and in diaries since I was a teenager. I continued to write poetry in my journals, and not until 2006 did I show them to anyone. I generally write every day, at the present in memoir form. I haven’t written poetry since my mother died in January, 2007. I didn’t write at all between her death and the death of my father three years later in January, 2010. On my father’s birthday in March, 2010, I began this blog, to honor my father and to help me grieve. But I also desperately needed to write, and this stream of conscious style emerged. I needed to find my organic voice.
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