I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

Today is day to wrap up a couple of loose ends. (Song complements of Matchbox 20.)

One of the more helpful books I have read lately is by Nancy and David Guthrie, "When Your Family's Lost a Loved One." Nancy is writing a letter to her daughter Hope a few months after she died. "But you are so far away and becoming even more distant in my memory and it is so painful. And I feel weak. I used to fell strong - when you where here and in the months after you left-I hurt but felt strong spiritually, emotionally. Now I just feel numb and weak and lacking purpose. I don't know how to let you go and hold onto you at the same time. I don't know how to feel pain and embrace joy at the same time. Forgive me for going on with life without you. Forgive me for forgetting what you sound like and what you looked like and what it felt like. "

I spent the day at Wendy's. I have started the boxes of stuff for you. For the bulk of the stuff boxes, I know how to get in touch with you but not everyone. So we will play Clue for the people I don't have a current address.

If you are reading this, and you ate dinner with Mom and I at Olive Garden in Cary a few years ago for my birthday, I have the letters you wrote Mom. She made me promise to get these if something happened. [Or if you know who this is and can let them know, that would be great.] If you would like to have these, please send me an email.

If you watched OJ and the white bronco at Mom's house with me, I also have letters for you.

There were a couple of good finds today. Ron - I found a chalk drawing of you and Mom. Will send your way. You guys were very cute. There were also a bunch of Mom cartoons. If these have meaning to you, please let me know and I will send them your way.

Wendy and I also found our adoption papers along with Mom's today. Did you know, Mom's middle name before she was adopted was Earline. How good is that? Can you not just see the look on her face I would get over that.

Secret Night

I am not the person who can tell you about what I dreamed the night before. I have a friend who has the most incredible and busy dream life, I wonder how she is able to get out of bed some days. Even during the nightmare weeks, I would never remember the what of the dream, only the terror. I know I dream but I can only count a handful of dreams that I remember past the morning.

Last night was my first night home alone since Mom. Zach was at the beach and Stan was at work. And in this secret night, I wished for a dream with Mom. But instead, I lay awake, listening to the sounds of my house until morning.

The Spirituality of Imperfection

More books. This one was given to me a few years back by a friend. I loaned it to Mom for a while but it set on the shelf and ended up back on the nightstand. Clark read a passage from this during Mom's Eulogy.

During the days and weeks after Mom, my internal voice was very loud. "Why didn't she call? Why aren't they here? Why did he say that? How could you? How could they? How could she? Doesn't she know? Don't they know?" It was a running, incredibly draining dialogue in my head all during this time. The anger was so vivid, I thought I would burst into flames. [On a random note, I guess that explains the endless crying. It was to keep me too moist to combust.]

And in my anger, I decided that I would be the best person ever when this happened to someone else that I knew. I would know the right things to say, the right things to do, and whenever anyone mentioned my name, the memory of how much comfort and compassion I showed to them during their time would overshadow anything they had ever known before.

And then life intruded. I went to a funeral and could barely speak. I met friends in similar situations and my fear kept me away. I did not speak because I did not know how to give them comfort. My wish to give comfort was consumed by my awkwardness.

And in my awkwardness, my anger turned to understanding. How hard this is for everyone. When you see me, you see what you can lose. When I see you, I see what I have lost. And somehow, we imperfectly move on together to fill the spaces in my heart my anger once held.

The Sugar Queen

I just finished a couple of books by Sarah Addison Allen. I started with the Sugar Queen and wrapped up with Garden Spells. Both of her books were most wonderful. It made me wish I had an apple tree in my back yard and Chloe's gift with books. My most wonderful librarian is 3 for 3. [On a side note, without my library card, I would always be broke. How wonderful is it to be able to walk into a place and borrow as many books as you can possibly read as many times as you can possibly imagine. To make it even worse, I have a library card that fits on my key chain. ]

It is almost time for my oil change and check up. I have appointments next month with everybody. I usually try and schedule everything around my birthday to keep track. I think the one I dread the most is with Dr. Clark. She has been my GYN for at least 10 years. She never fails to ask about Mom. She told me once after she had met Mom, that she would know she was my Mom without being introduced.

With Dr's visits, there is just the added level of terror at this point. Not being able to provide any type of history except Mom's kicks me right over the edge. I guess this is what happens when you watch too many shows on Discovery.

GA 218

Mom and I are both Presbyterians. We have both served on Session. I came back on Session this year. Last night, we began trying to reconcile the events of GA during our session meeting. Like the news releases, these actions have the potential to tear our denomination apart.

I have spent a good deal of time on the PCUSA site, and it will take days/weeks for me to understand the implications of what took place this year. But as I read and wander the web, one thought stands out in my head. "God doesn't call us to a denomination, he calls us to unity."