[unedited please don’t judge- will review again in the future. Just wanted to get some thoughts out] I think one of the best things I can do in times of pain and sorrow is to share. It felt way too personal to do that in any sort of a blogging or public way when my marriage was in shambles but sharing what I loved about my mom feels right. It’s a relatable sentiment and doesn’t deaminize another human in the way that talking about how Kris hurt me would have.
It has been ten days since mom died. I cried that day and maybe a little bit the next day, but it hadn’t happened since, or much. I did got emotional when dozens of friends and family left messages on our social media posts with memories and what they loved and expressing their deepest condolences. It is not as though I feel like my feelings or things in my life shouldn’t matter to others, I do. But there was still something so incredible moving and deeply touching about people who didn’t even know my mom, expressing so much sympathy and care for what Katie and I are going through.
Mom was 67 and far too young to be taken from us. I don’t think I have fully grasped the void. Never again on July 10th will I wake up to a text from her bc aside from some European friends who send a facebook or Instagram bday message, Mom was always the first birthday message I received, every year. Before texting, it was a phone call. She was always so excited to celebrate me, even when I would roll my eyes at her enthusiasm I always felt her love and knew I was lucky.
One of the things that I’ve learned this week was that I get my note taking from her. I have a box of notebooks, so many notes she wrote about all sorts of things. Many were just nothing. To do items like “reschedule blablabla appointment” or “call vet about Rosie” but she also seemed to leave herself notes like she thought she was going to forget. I know she said she thought her memory was failing so I think maybe she was leaving herself notes. Or like me, wanting to get important thoughts out. It’s why I have journals and scattered notes all over the place.
A good friend got me a book called the invisible string and the kids and I sat down to read it on the couch together. I knew it would deal with “dealing with death” for kids and wasn’t sure what to expect but hadn’t done a pre read so here we went. It was a really cute book and the kids new exactly why I was reading it, and noticed immediately when I got emotional. At one point Hugo said “Mom are you crying?” and I said yes and kept reading. When it got to the part about having an invisible string with someone in heaven Esme said “Can we have an invisible string to grandma JoJo?” and it was just so hard. I said yes and kept it mostly together. But my heart was breaking all over.
The love and support from women in my life who never even met my mom or were close with her still baffles me. Again, I know I am worthy of love, I know people care about me. But I continue to be so incredibly moved and touched by the people who give such a selfish demonstration of love for me. Whether it is an offer of help in the form of labor around my home, meals, hugs, whatever. I fall apart every time.
There are many women who were friends with my mom when she was a young mom. She was the kind of person who maintained her relationships. Another characteristic I have from her. I don’t lose friendships unless they no longer serve me. Even if there are people I don’t speak to often and we just see social media posts, my connections and relationships are my most valued asset in life. She never stopped wanting to build and grow her network. Even one day at my house while decorating for Christmas, the next day she asked me for my friends phone number because the two of them had been chatting and mom wanted to share a recipe with her. Belen had met her on other occasions but this time they connected. And I feel like mom would have continued to stay connected with her, even if randomly to simply share a recipe or for them to exchange a thought or memory about their mutual connection (me!). She was just, like that. Even when she didn’t have space for new friends she would always let someone in that she was interested in.
It has been suggested that Hugo learn cursive because he is having trouble with writing. Mom’s penmanship was something I would obsess over. Looking at notebook pages of her words, her doodles and her entries on things like calendars, addressbooks and of course her day planner. Another one of those traits I have from her…. The inability to go entirely digital with my planner. I continue to purchase fully personalized planners and live and die by what is recorded. Unlike her though, I didn’t save my prior years as archives! She was something of a saver, a packrack, a “I might need this” or “it’s important to save this” kind of person.
Mom loved music. Some of my earliest memories of life in June Lake involve weekends at home listening to music very loud from speakers that were taller than me. She loved to sing, dance, and clap while she sang and danced. I really can see it now. She loved Madonna and Wilson Phillips as far as popular music from that era, but she really loved so much. She loved music in film, music from her childhood or adolescence and was of course a talented guitar player. She played in church, she played for friends, and I honestly wish I would have asked her to play more. I loved when she did but was never grateful enough of her talent. My love of music comes from both my parents equally, and I am as thankful as ever for that.
That’s it for now. I’ll edit this again. Just wanted to put some thoughts out there. More will come, and I’ll take more care in editing. 😉
Jill Up the hill 