A Letter to My Friends

Dear friends,

Recently, I have suffered a devastating loss. I am grieving, and I will probably need months and even years to recover from my mother's passing.

I wanted to let you know that I will cry from time to time. I don't apologize for my tears since they are not a sign of weakness or a lack of faith. My tears are a gift for me to express the extent of my loss.

At times, I may be angry, irritable, or withdrawn for no apparent reason. Sometimes I'm not sure why I feel the way I do. All I know is that my emotions are intense because of my grief. If I don't always make sense to you, please be forgiving and patient with me.

More than anything, I need your understanding and your presence. You don't always have to respond. Your presence and a touch or hug lets me know you care. Please don't wait for me to call you since sometimes I am too emotional to do so. I need you to reach out to me.

If you have experienced a similar type of loss, please feel free to share it with me. It will help rather than cause me to feel worse. And don't stop sharing if I begin to cry. It's all right, and any tears you express as we talk are all right, too.

This loss is so painful, and right now it feels like the worst thing that ever could happen to me. But I will survive. I cling to that knowledge even though I have times when I don't believe it. I know that I will not always feel as I do now.

Thank you for caring about me. Thank you for listening. Your concern comforts me and is a gift for which I am thankful.

Sincerely,

Dawn

Adapted from a letter from Hospice Austin.

I just love you

I attended a paint party at BlackFinn last Monday hosted by my friend Christiane Michaelis. She recently started her own business called the Dirty Easel. I took the opportunity to create a piece of art that would honor my relationship with my mother. The color scheme is half her favorites and half my own. Both the paint and the words are free flowing. I'm honestly not sure I even like it, but it came from my heart.

I've typed the poem below because it can be difficult to see since there are so many layers on the canvas itself.

This is my letter
for me and mama.

Maman; (Mommy)
la mère; (mother)
la reine. (queen)

I just love you
Time cannot erase the love I feel for you.
In spite of every selfish stupid thing I ever did
You alone are the largest part of me
The piece of me I cannot ignore

We are

This is not the end, mama.
I love you.

La mère se meure. (Mother is dying)

Vive la reine. (Long live the queen)

A Mother's Memories to Her Child: A Typical Day Growing Up

Joyce

Growing up, I usually spent my days
Helping out after I came home from my school. I loved school a lot. I was social there and made good grades. I had several best friends. Still have three to this day: Geri, Linda, and Barbara.

My chores included
Dishes
Cooking
Keeping my room clean
Watching siblings

On winter days, I would
Read books a lot.
Visit girlfriends and dance, play jacks, or talk and make up stories.

On bright summer days, I liked to
Be outside
Go to the beach
Jump rope
Sit in the shade
Visit with friends

During the day, my mother
Worked odd jobs and part time jobs a lot when she wasn't at a lull and "just a housewife."

During the day, my father
Slept until noonish as he worked nite hours and needed rest. When he was up, he would spend time with us kids and do his chores.

Dawn

Growing up, I usually spent my days
Playing in my room or, later, hiding out in my room.

Going to school, which I did not like. Don't get me wrong, I loved learning, especially English and reading, but a lot of the other kids did not like me. I had a few friends, but I spent most of my time alone. Some of my friends thought I was a little weird because I had ideas. For example, I once asked my friend if she ever wanted to be a boy. She looked at me funny. I just thought I would be happier if I were a boy because I'd be able to do more things and would be stronger. Because I preferred to draw and write on the playground instead of play, other kids made fun of me. I was a little nerdy and very shy.

My chores included
Doing the dishes
Dusting the furniture
Washing, drying, and folding the laundry
Vacuuming
Cleaning my room

On winter days, I would
Read books
Play board games with my sister
Draw and do arts and crafts
Write stories

On bright summer days, I liked to
Read books
Play in the sprinkler or the neighbor's pool
Play outside with the neighborhood kids

During the day, my mother
Took care of us kids when my sister and I were little. We did arts and crafts together, but mostly my sister and I played in our room. When we fought, mom had us kneel in opposite corners of the hallway until we apologized to each other.

Then, she started teaching special education at a local middle school. My mom worked with emotionally disabled kids during the school year and physically disabled during the summer.

During the day, my father
Worked in Quality Control at an international power and automation technology firm. He is an electrical engineer.

Behave

My head

a lightning rod that

signals impending rain

days before it 

back-lights the clouds. 

Without lightning,

there is only static,

a silence that thrums the

synapses of my brain.

If thoughts have mass,

then I weigh a ton, and

I am counting the pounds

as they collect -

under my chin

around my middle

between my legs; finally,

stacking themselves above my feet

pressing me further to the ground so that

every step becomes

a burden. 

I am immovable

Unmoved by the

daily data that drives us,

forces us to the cliff of extinction, and says,

"You, there! 

You behave, 

or else."

When I see the outline of clouds

in the flickering of the sky;

When I feel the lightning 

behind my eyes,

I wonder,

'Who will die 

if I misbehave?'