With the BFH {Big Friendly Husband} off work since Wednesday with a horribly nasty bug and the two squidlets at home, I must admit it's been really nice to have some family time. We are currently working opposite shifts, which means half-and-half parenting. It's not fun. I'm up early and in bed late. So is BFH. And by the time Friday comes, our grumpy pants are well and truly worn in for the week.
This weekend, we had planned a very special surprise for Mr 5. A trip to Santa's Magical Kingdom. He loved it and has stated he will return next week {although my bank account has denied his demands}. Christmas brings out the warm and fuzzies in me. The sparkles, the decorations, Christmas carols, Santa's crazy hair and beard, the arduous yet exciting task of wrapping presents. I've been very prepared with gifts this year, making and sticking to lists and budgets. It'll be sad when Santa has left the building!
Can't bloody wait. Christmas is that little bit more special this year. It's my daughter's first, and the last during which my son won't be a school boy. But that brings up many feelings which will, I'm sure, be published by me another day. The one other issue is that this will be the first Christmas without my Mum, and obviously yet another beautiful occasion without the Main Man {Dad}.
I'm determined to not let the heart-wrenching moments of this year put a dampener on my Christmas Cheer. The kids {as well as the BFH and myself} deserve a happy holiday. Part of the reason why I think I've been able to cope with the loss of my Mum is that I clearly can't forget that in the year that we lost her, I gave birth to my girl. Blessing is an understatement.
We visited Mum's empty house on Friday night. I was fine until BFH asked if I was fine. Then suddenly I realized I wasn't. Staring at her car sitting uselessly in the driveway, the bare garden and seeing the weeds waist height in the backyard was enough to break me.
Something about seeing my childhood home empty and lifeless takes my breath away. Makes me feel a bit speechless, like all of a sudden my childhood has been wiped as the man and woman who made it so wonderful just aren't there anymore. I, at times, I admit, can be quite materialistic. But I can explain. I place a lot of meaning on little things. Especially when they are tied to very important memories of times in my life.
I have my mum's hair brush and old glasses put away in a special box. I have my dad's old slippers. I have flyers from my first play. I have the ball from my first hockey goal tucked away. I have kept a lot of little trinkets and treasures from my children's first moments {and years in Mr 5's case}. My sister said something quite poignant to me this weekend, as we discussed how we were feeling. She said of Mum's things "It's just stuff now that she isn't here Lauren, you have the memories of her". I guess I keep hanging on to this stuff because I don't want to forget one thing about her. I'm not ready to let go and feel the full brunt of the pain because I understand how much it'll hurt. Plus, I can't afford to spend weeks not wanting to get out of bed, no matter how much I sometimes want to.
I want to tell my children the truth about her, not made-up stories because I've forgotten parts of her. So that's why I have kept a lot of little seemingly useless junky items along the way, triggers of memories that made me angry, happy, smile, cry or laugh.
For me, it's not about having lots of stuff or the best stuff, it's about what that stuff meant to me and continues to mean. With Mum, it's me finding it hard to let her go and wanting to hold onto her memory SO BADLY that I'm scared to throw anything out, especially if I know when she had it last. I know, I'm creepy but it's me and it's honest. I didn't want to throw out an old shopping list because it was her handwriting. And I loved her neat handwriting.
With Dad's, it's holding onto things because it's been so long since I saw him and it's only going to get worse. I miss him so much.
The compounding heartache of losing one parent then the other in tragic circumstances means a few things to me. It means I'm grieving and I won't stop. I forgive myself in the moments where it feels like my world is ending and I need to stop and have a cry. I'm kind to myself at times where I let people treat me like rubbish and all I want to do is kick them in the kid {violent response, I know}.
My sister and her family are not considered my immediate family, they are my family. We are one. The heartache means family, life, memories, special occasions and milestones and the way in which I see the world, treat others and expect to be treated myself has changed. I wouldn't be human if they hadn't.
I have noticed in the last few weeks that things can wait and I've let worries and stressors slide. I rest and don't feel guilty. I listen more and talk less. I dream more vividly and enjoy my sleep. I enjoy silence. I'm more frightened of the new feelings of grief that have arisen but I know I'm equipped to deal with them, or get help from someone who can really help, at the very least.
It's been a rocky year, not like any other. I keep this in mind, no matter where I am, who I'm with or what I'm doing- "Life: come at me".
Surely 2014 will be a great year for my family, we've really, truly earned it.
No comments:
Post a Comment