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THE FREEDOM OF TOUCH
To feel
His fingertips on my skin
Tingling my senses
Slipping his fingers up my neck
Into my hair
I feel his delicate caress
His body heat
I touch his shoulder
His chest
He trembles as my nails tickle him
I clutch gently at the small of his strong back
We are close
His scent is teasing my imagination
He is pressing against me
I am pressing against him
We embrace
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You were supposed to care
Supposed to care for me
Supposed to stay.
Instead you left
Left me broken
Left me alone
Left me helpless
I am strong
I am fine
But I hate you
Hate your very existence
I hope you die
Alone
Forgotten
Like you left me
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You make me miserable
Every day
You hurt me constantly
Every day
Mean words
Accusations
Or worse
No words at all
All day
Every day
I hurt
I cry
Tell me again
Why do I stay
I don’t know how
I still love you
If all I get is pain
All I do is suffer
What’s the point
Of us?
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Ever
Ever feel always needed
Never wanted
Ever feel deeply lonely
Never alone
A well of deep darkness
Pulls me under
I stand alone
I am alone
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I will not grow old
I will not grow old
With you
You are leaving me
Now
Not all at once
In tiny stolen pieces
Robbed by a darkness
Where even the best
And brightest moments
Fade away
All I knew of you will go
Disappear
I will care for the shell
Of the person I knew
Who I loved
I will not grow old with you
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We are born tethered
Tied to our past
Bound by blood
Held fast by unconditional love
At least, we all should be
We are not all so lucky
Not all have a mother like mine
I am so fortunate
My mother and I
Have been bound as nature made us
Through blood, through life
With love with laughter
Wit and sarcasm
Jokes and adventures
Arguments and conversations
Debates and discussions
She made me who I am today
She made me
From my very beginning
And forever more - I am my mother’s daughter
Now I face her inevitable departure
As she wages a war of losing battles
She fights against time for time
Trying to remain a part of this world
Our lives are a series of cutting cords
Detaching from one another
From birth to walking to rites of passage
We separate under the guise of maturing
Yet, no matter how mature I am
I will always be her baby
She will always be my mom
And I will always wish we never had to say good bye
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Eulogy for Mom
Author Jamie Anderson said:
“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
My mom was love. A kind of love that is difficult to describe and totally unique. A mother’s love without falter.
So when my mom told me in October last year how sick she was I wept. I knew. She knew. We cried over the phone together.
Her illness and treatment was not fair, or kind, or easy. She endured it though, to try and steal time from death, to try and slow the plow. She wanted only more time with her kids, her husband - all of us.
Her family was cobbled together over a lifetime, like her many collections of copper cookware, hair accessories, trinket boxes, and blue and white dinner plates; she collected her family members in many ways and loved them all. Even the difficult ones, especially the difficult ones.
My mother worried she was never a good enough mother, she worried about Mickey’s health and about the well being of her friends. She worried about others because of her deeply rooted compassion and empathy. She worked at the local Senior Center in Escondido as a way to pay back life for her fortunate outcome, and to serve others and her faith in a direct and positive way. She was not a saint, she’d complain about all manner of office politics to me when we’d chat, we’d laugh at most of it, even the most irksome things. But she went every day she was needed and often even when she wasn’t just to be there.
My mom gave so much. She wasn’t always perfect, but she never stopped trying to be better. She raised her three kids and then gained three more kids whom she loved and tried to be there for and we all gave her in-laws and grand kids and eventually great grand kids. She was mom, Nancy, Gigi and Grandma, and she was strong, stubborn, funny and smart.
Two short years ago I moved with my husband and kids and cats from North Carolina to Oregon. We decided driving the car from coast to coast was the most cost effective way to get it there. So, not wanting her baby to drive alone, mom insisted on coming with me.
I took the opportunity to make it a road trip to remember. Finding things to do and try and see that made it more than a perfunctory transport of our car, and instead made it a cross-country adventure. We had a fancy steak dinner in West Virginia coal country, we went on a zip-line tour of the Mega Cavern in Louisville, Kentucky.
We stopped at roadside shops and attractions in Virginia and Indiana.
We visited family and friends in Chicago and stopped at a museum in Iowa and stumbled upon one of mom’s favorite places, the origin store for American Picker’s.
We had an odd night in Sioux City Iowa at a Howard Johnson that seemed run by the inept and apathetic and then a wonderful breakfast with one of my friends in Vermillion South Dakota. Then we went antique-ing, because why not?
We saw the badlands, Wall Drug, Mt. Rushmore, Bison, Custer State Park, the Black Hills, and the most extraordinary sunset. I took her up in a helicopter and down a 2000 ft slide.
We visited friends in Denver and Utah and she made the trip more interesting by forgetting small bits of her diabetic supplies in a few different states. We took a drive out onto the Bonneville salt flats and did a few donuts just because we could.
In Reno we relaxed at a spa and stopped in Tahoe to reminisce about my wedding before rendezvousing with family in San Francisco for sushi and shopping in Little Tokyo.
Lastly, before we headed to Portland to finally see my new house, we had a night in Ashland and saw a performance of the Odyssey by the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. She had done a paper on it her senior year in high school and had a love for the story and deep understanding of all the parts. I had no idea. She truly loved the show and it made her so happy.
She was my first house guest in my first house. She was my friend, my hero, my champion, my partner-in-crime. She was mom, and the best one I could have hoped for.
I would like to end with a poem I wrote:
You’re still here
In my heart and mind
My thoughts and words
My actions and memories
You’re still here
In all I do and think
With my kids and friends
At home and while I work
You’re still here
Keeping me safe
Laughing with me
Smiling with me
You no longer wipe away my tears
Because I cry for you
You no longer hug away my fears
Because I miss you
Yet when I feel loved
When I see the silly we used to enjoy
As I wander a garage sale
You’re still here
With me in songs we loved
In times we shared
In memories we made
You’ll always be right here
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When You are with me
In moments of solitude I think of you most when I see things you love I miss you most your voice still rings
your laughter still warms
even though I hear neither anymore
In moments of silence I feel your presence
when I notice things you would enjoy
I hear you breathing
your comment in my ear
even though you are not with me anymore
In moments of great joy I know you rejoice
when the love fills our hearts
I feel your embrace
your pride in me washes over
even though you can not say it anymore
I know you love me, in all the moments,
Through all the times of my life you will not see
I know you hold me, encourage me, guide me
I am strong because of you
- for my mom
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