Thursday, June 26, 2008

mother and child

Two days before he died, Mama came into my old room where I was preparing to change my son's clothes. She quietly approached the bed where Nicholas was sitting and she instinctively put Nicholas' small hands in hers and playfully lifted them up over his head so I could slip his shirt off. She even made that "Whoop" sound and it made Nicholas giggle as he was momentarily hidden inside the dark world of soft cotton cloth. Mama greeted her grandson with a wide smile as he emerged bare chested from his solitary, dark world. I plopped down on the other twin bed and watched my mother's hands take over weaving and threading the two year old's body parts in and out of sleeves, pant legs and shoes until he was expertly and happily dressed.

Nicholas turned on his belly and slid down the side of the bed, shaking his feet until they found solid ground. He turned flashing a big grin with squinting eyes and declared, "Bye Bye!" and ran straight legged with arms pumping out of the lavender colored bedroom from my childhood. Mama watched him disappear beyond the door and listened to his quick, small footsteps knocking on the hardwood floor. He wasted no time searching for his brother and sisters who were playing int he kitchen.

Slowly, almost thoughtfully, her knees bent. She eased herself onto the floor. I fought the urge to scoop her up in my arms. My hands began twisting so I grabbed fists of the pretty bedspread to keep them steady. There were no words to say. No comfort to offer. There was no way I could promise everything would be OK even though I wanted to say it any way.

Mama cried a little bit. Not for long. Just a few tears and a few stumbling noises from her throat. She cleared them away. As her hand swept across her mouth, she firmly said,

"I would like for you not to stay very long today."

I had been waiting for Daddy to wake up from his nap so I could have a one on one conversation with him. I had been waiting so long. There were always other people in the way. Friends, family, phone calls, work, even my own children. my hands let go of the bedspread and I pleaded with my mother.

"I have shared Daddy with the whole world for my whole life. I want to stay."

Her cool, steel blue eyes searched mine until they hooked in understanding. It is the same way I do with my children before I tell them something important so they will realize it's for their own good even if I know they will be mad or disappointed. The language between a mother and her child is only half spoken in words. The words that followed stung me, but the hook from her eyes...the soft pleading for understanding was all I needed.

"Abigail, when your father dies, you will still have your husband and your children. I will be alone. I need this time to me mine."

Tears burst through the wall at the back of my mouth and I fell more deeply in love with the frail, beautiful, crumbled woman on the floor. As if instructed, I nodded my head and offered my hand to her as I eased myself off the bed. She looked at the floor and brought her knees to her chin. She placed her hands on either side of her and gracefully rose to her feet. Either years of ballet or her more recent study of yoga made her able to move to easily from the floor. She is deceptively strong from such a tiny woman. She did not need my hand so I let it fall to my side.
We didn't speak but went straight into action gathering up all the things a mother must bring for her five children when visiting grandparents. Mama and I hurried about dropping diapers, clothes, toys and snacks into the bottomless pit of a bag.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Clearing the name of the man I so love

Adrian was recently accused of bringing a poisonous snake to the little zoo on our porch for the kids. After more careful research, we found the snake was harmless after all. I want everyone to know this, just in case anyone doubted his capabilities of being the expert of the outdoors. Adrian, your name is now clear and please forgive me for my mistake! I am lifting your restriction of bringing weird and strange creatures to Cutchshaw show and tell!

Thanks for being such a wonderful father. You not only teach our children important lessons in fishing, camping, climbing, boating, swimming, diving, exercise, prayer, faith, spirituality, story telling, and joke telling, you also teach them a very important lesson in appreciation. You teach them to appreciate all the marvelous blessings in their lives and to have gratitude for all of nature.....yucky snakes, bugs and all.

You are one of a kind. xoxo

Thursday, June 5, 2008

One last trip to the office

His office is being cleaned out this week and his belongings will be moved home. While Sydney and I were in town, I decided to stop by and sit in his office for a few minutes. I walked down the hall. I stepped through the door and shut it behind me. I carefully sat in his chair. I looked up and saw pictures of my family. All kinds. Capturing all different stages in our lives. I looked to the right and saw more pictures on his book shelves. And below, all sorts of medical books. Some spiritual books. Some addiction books. I twirled around and saw on the coffee table the latest issue of an Autism Journal.

I looked out the window and imagined him looking through the window checking the sunshine. I spun around to the cabinet. My eyes wondered over all the quirky little collectible things he had stored in there over the years. And then I looked at the wall. I saw the picture of him with J.F.K. and a picture of him when he was 18 years old with his science fair project. I saw all his degrees and some awards, a picture with Jane Fonda. I turned back to face the desk. It was left just the way it was the last time he used it. He calendar hasn't been turned forward. He had lots of notes about "call so and so..."

And as I curiously looked in all the nooks and crannies, I saw love notes from us...his children....wishing him a good day.

I used to leave him a love note on his desk every time I was in his office. Sometimes I would leave him one under his pillow at home. Just to say, "Hey, Daddy! I love you!"

I decided to leave him one last note. I wrote it on his calendar on the day he passed away. I told him how much I miss him. I know he'll see it. I felt he was watching me. As I laid my head on his desk and cried, I felt his presence. And then I smelled him. That really fine and handsome father smell of soap, fabric softener and gourmet coffee.

I couldn't help but feeling I was stepping out of a holy place when I left the office and headed back home. I wonder how long it will take for our broken hearts to heal. We all miss him so much.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

shattered into a million pieces

The funeral was a little over a month ago. I didn't get to grieve at the funeral because one has to be "on" at a funeral. One must be strong and carry others through the process. Family members must play hostess to all the mourners. And that's fine. It really helps carry a person through a very difficult and shocking time. But it's all surreal. You know it's real, but your body and your mind cannot wrap around it all. It's impossible to really understand what has happened. It is impossible to understand that the person who has left the earth won't be coming back. It is why you try to call them on the phone. It's why you drive in your car looking for them and then realize you are going a little bit crazy and should turn around and go home. It's why you jump up at their house when you imagine that they are at the door.

So, I floated around in that surreal experience for a while, catching glimpses here and there at random times of the depth of my sorrow. But my tears were coming from some place just on the surface.....until this weekend.

We celebrated at Relay for Life. My mother, sisters, brothers in law, my niece and nephew, my husband and children were on my father's office's team. We were there raising money to fight cancer in such a unique and creative way. It's cool to see a whole community gather together to be able to participate on so many levels to fight cancer. It's something special to see all those cancer survivors wearing their purple shirts having a really good time dancing, walking, socializing, laughing.... I certainly remember last year watching Daddy in his purple shirt carry the banner for cancer survivors and having a really good time celebrating life!

And then, at 10:00 pm, silence is called. It is amazing and powerful to be in the presence of 12,000 people falling reverently silent. The luminaries are lit.....thousands of luminaries. Some in honor of someone who is fighting cancer and others in memory of someone who passed away. Lights are shut off and the whole field, track, and stadium is twinkling.

Then I see Mama, holding Daddy's torch so proudly. She has entered the track along with another person and a bag piper. The bag piper begins to play a solemn song and Mama, fragile and small, walks a lap in silence around the entire track. Then, over head, there is a huge screen. Names are shown on the screen one by one in alphabetical to honor the memory of those who have lost their lives to cancer. After seeing Mama pass by me, and hearing the heartbreaking song of the bag pipes slowly move away, I see my father's name on the screen.

It was at that very moment in time that it all became real to me. It was more defining for me than the funeral or the ceremony in the garden.

My heart then shattered into a million pieces. I miss him so much.