I know I promised Canada, and will deliver on said promise, but today the Front Range was so lovely, I just had to share. I worked late last night, not getting home until 1:00 a.m., and only falling into a fitful sleep between 4:15 and 7:15. Throughout the night, I heard rain, which was a becalming sound. Being a woman who takes short 45-second private tropical vacations because of my internal magma, I continue to have the bedroom window open a few inches, even in the sub-zero nights, so last night, I listened to the comfort of rain falling on the dead leaves of the evil Chinese elm tree, and the long slow soothe of a freight train whistle a few miles up the road. I tried to remember what the whistle signals meant, as my father gave me a document long ago that explained the whistle “morse code” that engineers used. The grey of the morning wore off, MKL arrived, we bought a lovely little Christmas tree, saw some llamas, sheep, goats, and BMWs, braved the weirdness of WalMart, went out for coffee and listened to the bluegrass jam session at the East Simpson Coffee Shop.
I changed the sheets, cleaned the bathroom (not enough), watched an episode of “Sherlock” on PBS. I had a baked potato, having decided (in a rather numb-nut fashion) to stop eating sugar and flour now, just before Christmas celebrations. After all, it’s 10 weeks to Costa Rica.
Now, I am cuddled with Mr. Man, trying to adjust to how my body has been today, how my spirit has been today, on the 10th anniversary of my Mother’s death. As I have said before, I can instantly place myself back in each moment of the nine days that I was with her up to her passing – and the terrible days afterwards. I physically hurt, and have shed tears a few times when talking to MKL, who is extra adorable, because he never fails to have a handkerchief handy for me to dry my tears.
While I only occasionally have visitation dreams from people who have passed on, it is clear when they occur. I would love to have my Mother visit me, and it has happened only twice in all these years, except for this year, when she stopped by every night for about four days, as she was poised to assist a friend to the next place. No matter how much I want her to come to me in my dreams, she doesn’t. It’s a hard thing for me to understand, but I know it’s in both of our best interests. Still, it adds a caul to the sadness that I feel for the loss of her, which is there daily, but more potent on anniversaries. I cried through the parent/child dance at the wedding I catered last night. I haven’t done that in many years.
But today was a good day, a beautiful day, and I know that would make her happy, as it made me happy, even with the ache throbbing in my heart to the beat of the bluegrass.
Boulder, Colorado.
Quote of the day: “There is something about losing your mother that is permanent and inexpressable – a wound that will never quite heal.” — Susan Wiggs
Daily gratitude:
The smell of the little Christmas tree lot
Today’s clouds
Siting a bald eagle in flight
Clean sheets
The seasonal reappearance of the Santa Hat
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December 12, 2016 at 7:38 am
So Does That Mean I'm Southern
Seasweetie You really touched my heart as my Mother passed away ten years ago on November 21. I feel your pain and sadness and I am glad you had a beautiful day and could move on. Hugs SSS.
December 14, 2016 at 8:32 pm
Seasweetie
Another connection for us, SSS, and a poignant one. Hugs to you, dear.
December 12, 2016 at 8:14 am
lucindalines
Lovely remarks about a painful experience. I and my daughters often have visits from my mother in our dreams. Of all things she speaks to my daughter, who was never her favorite, and to me she is often present off in the distance, but we never speak. Such a thing it is and hard to share with those who don’t have the same experiences. Good to know there is a fellow soul out in the world.
December 14, 2016 at 8:33 pm
Seasweetie
I am indeed, a fellow soul, Lucinda. On the rare occasions I have seen my Mother in my dreams, she has been focused on my daughter. And one night, when I slept in my daughter’s bed, I felt my Mother’s presence all night. I think she’s watching over her, and I love that.
December 14, 2016 at 9:35 pm
lucindalines
O how wonderful .