It's Been A While...

So first of all, Substack tells me via notifications that I may have a bunch of new followers, so…Hello to you New Followers! (waves hand). Also Hello to all other followers. Life has been jam-packed in many ways lately, both good and bad, thus leaving me little time to write anything beyond the usual work-related projects, but at least work has provided some creative opportunities for me…Just not as a “real” writer. LOL

OK, so many of you know, my mom-who-raised-me, AKA adoptive mom, AKA “My Mom”, passed away this past summer in mid-July. She had a three-year “battle” with the aftermath of a broken right femur bone which had left her unable to walk, get out of bed or use a bathroom independently ever again. I spent a lot of that time doing extra care for her. She lived in senior facilities, but in facility #1, the supervision over time became abysmal as their staffing quality diminished, meal offerings became sub-par, and don’t even get me started on the level of sanitation (or lack thereof). My brother and I had her moved to a newer facility where she received better nutrition, more therapies and increased options for social activities. When she did decline beyond the point of enjoying the improvements, she at least passed in cleanliness and consideration, whether I was in the room with my mother or not. They say that aging is not for sissies but neither is care-giving, no matter to what level of care-giving you do.

Also, one of my biological sisters died this past year. (If you smoke, please stop now. Lung cancer is a bitch.) She was only nine months younger than me. It’s weird; it’s too quiet, and it sucks to not have my mom and my sister in my earthly life anymore. I know they both exist in my spiritual life, but it is not the same thing. The phone doesn’t ring. No text messages come in. No funny memes about cats or margaritas. No social media posts. It’s like in a way they both women went *poof*… (Gives new meaning to being ‘ghosted’, doesn’t it?)

Before either of my loved ones had died, I began listening to Anderson Cooper’s podcast, All There Is. It’s beautiful and amazing., and if you haven’t heard of it, Cooper discusses bereavement situations with famous and semi-famous people. My favorite episodes so far are Will Reeve’s in season 2 and Ken Burns’ in Season 3. I began listening because, well, it’s Anderson Cooper, and his work is beyond excellent regardless, but I knew the ends were slowly coming for both of my family members, and I thought that listening to other prominent figures discuss their experiences would be insightful before I had to endure a probable “double-whammy” of loss and grief. Call it “pre-gaming”. Call it studying before the big test. All There Is with all of it’s realness, compassion and class was and still is what I needed to cope with loss before loss.

While the physical care for my sister was much less, the care for my mom was huge. (could have been more, but it was huge enough.) All I had to do for my sister was hang out, bring her Arby’s fish and a shake here and there plus Diet Mountain Dew, a soft drink we both enjoy(ed), even before we’d met one another.

“You like Diet Dew too! OMG! Same!” I knew what beverage to bring for every family get-together.

My sister just needed time and connection. It was a challenge for me considering I had my own job(s) plus my family obligations. She totally understood this. She had her own world too before cancer happened. All I could do was make a greater effort to get together while still treating her as a “normal” person. We could commiserate about how our local sports teams never seem to win enough, how our grandkids were everything, no matter how annoying Miss Rachael on TV is, or how seeing David Muir on ABC News made all the bad political stories seem more palatable because it was David firmly yet gently delivering those nuggets of knowledge while sporting a beautifully styled suit and tie with perfect hair, perfect posture, incredible biceps and a warm smile.

My mother, on the other hand, needed much more. She had no other siblings, friends, kids in town. I was it most of the time. I ran her errands, bought her snacks, relayed her concerns and criticisms to the senior care facility powers-that-be, shampooed her hair, coordinated her medical van rides to assorted doctor appointments and gave her lots of time and attention when no one else was available. It was exhausting for me and also my husband and kids, but I don’t regret doing it. I would want someone to care for me like that. My grandparents would have wanted their daughter cared for like that. I believe(d) it was what the Universe wanted me to do. If I didn’t do what I did, in my mind, she would have wasted and wallowed away in excrement, neglect, sensory deprivation and even starvation. She probably lived one-two years longer than expected because of my attention to her details, but she also still wanted to live. I gave her every opportunity to not give up until she truly began to give up.

I can logically explain everything, but in the end, I still have grief. I feel two voids. Both are significant yet different. I’d only known my sister for 23 years. She was a half sister on my birth father’s side, and we’d connected finally in 2002 after much searching and waiting for the best opportunity to reunite. On the other hand, my mom had been my mom for 63 years. I never knew a day without her. There was never a before time. With my sister (we never use the “half” word), there was a before, yet I can’t return to the before because of all of the birth family relationships I’ve formed and continue to love and keep in my life.

With Mom, I just feel empty.

I have been keeping her plants alive. I can’t tell her about how her Christmas cacti are now starting to bloom. I took a picture the other day of her flourishing plants, but I can’t share that pic with her. I can’t tell her about my new kitten or about how my grandkids are growing and achieving. I can’t tell her that one of my daughters got into grad school. She never got to meet my brother’s new grandbaby, but she knew he was going to be born. (She saw the sonogram pictures.) I can’t tell her about my work day or show her our Halloween costume pix. She would have loved how we dressed up as The Addams Family. I can’t call Mom on my way home from a longer drive to pass the time. I think I am going to avoid the greeting card aisle at the grocery this month since I cannot buy her a “Mom” Christmas card. She lived 95 big, bountiful and glorious years, yet I mourn the missed future opportunities. That feeling isn’t going to stop anytime soon.

Instead, I keep busy with work, my family, my home and garden, my friends and other family members. I read. I write. I binge-watch TV shows. I even disassociate to get through certain tasks in my day. Grief isn’t going to stop. The process isn’t fast, (unless maybe you’re sociopathic). It will blend at some point with all the other griefs and events of life, and eventually perspective will build something larger like a skyscraper that overshadows the smaller structures which still exist on the block.

Life before these two losses was soul-consuming and also gratifying in some ways. I wouldn’t change a thing but my challenge now is to figure out what is next. I need to stop neglecting my writing and the writing friends and communities in which I participate, both in real life and online. I need to check in with friends I haven’t heard from in a while and make sure they are okay. I need to fill my brain with learning and good books. I will continue to exercise. I will practice self-care and even self-indulgence, if I am being honest. I will continue with my career until I feel the time is right to retire from my day job, and I will never stop missing my mother and my sister.