It's the last day of 2017. Last few hours, actually. It's evening now and everyone is settling down. Dinner is in the oven, laundry is being washed. Toys have been left in the living room, where I sit with my heart aching.
2017 has not been kind to me, or to my family. I won't say I've had some of my highest highs, but I did have some good times this past year. But the lows....oh, the lows.
I've experienced more heartbreak than I can stand this year.
Personal family troubles, financial strain, illness, anxiety attacks, depression....all of those things (while at the time were so serious) seem so insignificant compared to the sudden death of my mom in September. After her loss, there was very little joy to be had. Even on the good days, they were just.... days without her. My 29th birthday was the first birthday spent without her, Aiden and Jaxon's birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and now New Year's Eve...
I'm dwelling so hard tonight. I can get through my days using distraction. It gets me by, I can function and do what I need to do. I take care of my kids, I go to work, I run errands, I pay bills, I go to bed and I wake up and do the same thing the next day. There's beauty in the monotony- maybe if I stay busy, stay on track, my mind won't wander.
Tonight, that isn't working. I know I should stay busy, fight the thoughts with chores that keep my hands busy. But the menial tasks I've started all day do nothing to quiet those thoughts, or soothe the pain in my chest.
God, I miss my mom. I close my eyes and I can see her. In the stillness of the night, I can hear her. When my dad was recently admitted to the hospital, she was the first person I thought to call. And I'm always left with the same hollow disbelief when I remember that she isn't here.
I'm still so bitter. I sound like a broken record and I hate it. Some days, I'm fine when I wake up. And some days, I don't want to get out of bed. The grief hasn't diminished in the least. It's unpredictable. It's not what I expected- I expected to feel morose all day every day, to eventually fade with the passing of time. I suppose I should be grateful that it's not like that. Instead, I am constantly exhausted from the back and forth. And when it is a bad day, like today, it's all encompassing. It hasn't faded, it comes back again and again with the same intensity and it still takes my breath away with it's force.
I guess I should remain hopefully that next year will be better. That maybe I can work on healing myself. I should strive to become healthier both mentally and physically.
It's just hard to be positive when I've been surrounded with negative for months.
I do know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, I will not be disappointed to see 2017 go. I will not cheer and clap. I will take a breath, and move on to the next day.
Sunday, December 31, 2017
Friday, December 8, 2017
Nights in White Satin
Bear with me during this post. It is going to be filled with rambling, but it's the start of something... I think.
My dad posted something today in my mom's tribute page on Facebook. Typically, I stay away from that page, as it is pretty painful to go through for me. But today he posted a video of a group performing a song, and titled it "The Last CD Cathy Gave Me."
The band was the Moody Blues, and the song was "Nights in White Satin". Keep that in mind.
Some back story-
A few months before my mom passed away, I remember being in her kitchen with her. I remember this so vividly, it could have happened yesterday. We were just...being together. If you saw how my mom and I operated together, then you understand what I mean. Bouncing back and forth, talking with each other, over each other, at each other. We stumbled onto the topic of the shows I had been attending.
Recently, I have discovered a passion for EDM. I realize how silly I sound. But, I don't particularly care. The atmosphere of these shows is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. The individuals that I have encountered (Or that have encountered ME) are some of the best, most kind hearted humans I have ever come across. The people there-shows, festivals- live their lives in a different way- and look at other people in a different way...It's hard to describe unless you are immersed in it. They make me want to be a better person. I found true joy among these people, with my friends, in the music, and in the message.
Because of this newfound passion, I started having ideas for my future. How can this become something that I keep in my life, and incorporate it with other things that I love? Things like photography- which is something I would like to do throughout my life, to express myself artistically. I toyed around with the idea of taking pictures at these types of shows- shots of people enjoying the music, interacting with each other, and at the same time promoting the things I feel important- like love, and kindness.
That day, in the kitchen with my mom, I remember rambling off these ideas. I remember feeling so genuinely excited and happy, and wanting so badly to share this with my mom. I remember the feeling of intense appreciation when my mom showed enthusiasm for this side of me. She always encouraged me, but I could always tell when she was legitimately happy...with anything really. When she saw how excited I was....it made her happy. I could see it. And I was so happy, that she was happy. "Go for it. You have to go for this. Absolutely."
Those words have been in my head, relentlessly. They give me drive. I will continue with this. This will not be one of the many things that I give up. My whole life has consisted of being content with mediocrity, because I didn't push myself hard enough. I envied the tenacity I saw in my peers and wondered when I would find something that gave me ambition. Something that got me out of the slump that depression had me in for most of my high school and college years. My children were the first to change that. I had to, and continue to, work hard to be the mom I want to be. They are the best things to ever happen to me. But, just for me, music and photography have been the things I turn to- happy, sad, angry...All of the feelings inside of me, I have always found comfort in music. And personal satisfaction in photography.
So, finding EDM and feeling so inspired on so many levels gave me ideas I shared with my mom. And while I spouted all of these random things, I told her I wanted to show her a song, and what it looks like live. That song was by a group, that I have now seen live, called Zeds Dead. It was titled "White Satin", a remix of Moody Blues; "Nights In White Satin". She was so excited to hear and recognize the song, and responded (of course) but showing me the original version.
I am certain that our talk prompted her gift of the Moody Blues CD to my dad. Just as I am certain that my mom would want to see me go to Electric Forest.
Our talks about everything eventually led to the music festival called Electric Forest, especially when my best friends attended in July of this year. I had wanted to go for several years, but it wasn't feasible while the twins were infants. This last July, though, I followed the festival so closely. I researched, I watched video after video, I clicked through hundreds of pictures- trying to "experience" the festival with my friends as best as I could from far away. The more I learned, the more I told my mom. And then, I was contacted by a brand representative for a company that embodies the style and culture of the festival goers. When I told my mom this, she was completely on board with getting me to the next festival. Electric Forest 2018. We planned it out. She offered to watch the boys. We joked about how my pictures will get me press passes for backstage events for HER. (I am laughing out loud as I type).
And then....the world stopped.
Everything went cold.
Dark.
I am still immersed in it, but there is a flame. A small ember of hope, deep inside of my heart.
She wanted this for me. She wanted me to continue with this. I am certain. I can feel it.
And because of this, I will be attending Electric Forest 2018. I will do it for my mom, and I will do it for myself. Even if nothing comes from it, but the healing of my heart.
Nothing is Coincidence.
Not anymore.
I leave you with the song I showed my mom, in a kitchen full of laughter, and warmth.
Zeds Dead-White Satin
My dad posted something today in my mom's tribute page on Facebook. Typically, I stay away from that page, as it is pretty painful to go through for me. But today he posted a video of a group performing a song, and titled it "The Last CD Cathy Gave Me."
The band was the Moody Blues, and the song was "Nights in White Satin". Keep that in mind.
Some back story-
A few months before my mom passed away, I remember being in her kitchen with her. I remember this so vividly, it could have happened yesterday. We were just...being together. If you saw how my mom and I operated together, then you understand what I mean. Bouncing back and forth, talking with each other, over each other, at each other. We stumbled onto the topic of the shows I had been attending.
Recently, I have discovered a passion for EDM. I realize how silly I sound. But, I don't particularly care. The atmosphere of these shows is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. The individuals that I have encountered (Or that have encountered ME) are some of the best, most kind hearted humans I have ever come across. The people there-shows, festivals- live their lives in a different way- and look at other people in a different way...It's hard to describe unless you are immersed in it. They make me want to be a better person. I found true joy among these people, with my friends, in the music, and in the message.
Because of this newfound passion, I started having ideas for my future. How can this become something that I keep in my life, and incorporate it with other things that I love? Things like photography- which is something I would like to do throughout my life, to express myself artistically. I toyed around with the idea of taking pictures at these types of shows- shots of people enjoying the music, interacting with each other, and at the same time promoting the things I feel important- like love, and kindness.
That day, in the kitchen with my mom, I remember rambling off these ideas. I remember feeling so genuinely excited and happy, and wanting so badly to share this with my mom. I remember the feeling of intense appreciation when my mom showed enthusiasm for this side of me. She always encouraged me, but I could always tell when she was legitimately happy...with anything really. When she saw how excited I was....it made her happy. I could see it. And I was so happy, that she was happy. "Go for it. You have to go for this. Absolutely."
Those words have been in my head, relentlessly. They give me drive. I will continue with this. This will not be one of the many things that I give up. My whole life has consisted of being content with mediocrity, because I didn't push myself hard enough. I envied the tenacity I saw in my peers and wondered when I would find something that gave me ambition. Something that got me out of the slump that depression had me in for most of my high school and college years. My children were the first to change that. I had to, and continue to, work hard to be the mom I want to be. They are the best things to ever happen to me. But, just for me, music and photography have been the things I turn to- happy, sad, angry...All of the feelings inside of me, I have always found comfort in music. And personal satisfaction in photography.
So, finding EDM and feeling so inspired on so many levels gave me ideas I shared with my mom. And while I spouted all of these random things, I told her I wanted to show her a song, and what it looks like live. That song was by a group, that I have now seen live, called Zeds Dead. It was titled "White Satin", a remix of Moody Blues; "Nights In White Satin". She was so excited to hear and recognize the song, and responded (of course) but showing me the original version.
I am certain that our talk prompted her gift of the Moody Blues CD to my dad. Just as I am certain that my mom would want to see me go to Electric Forest.
Our talks about everything eventually led to the music festival called Electric Forest, especially when my best friends attended in July of this year. I had wanted to go for several years, but it wasn't feasible while the twins were infants. This last July, though, I followed the festival so closely. I researched, I watched video after video, I clicked through hundreds of pictures- trying to "experience" the festival with my friends as best as I could from far away. The more I learned, the more I told my mom. And then, I was contacted by a brand representative for a company that embodies the style and culture of the festival goers. When I told my mom this, she was completely on board with getting me to the next festival. Electric Forest 2018. We planned it out. She offered to watch the boys. We joked about how my pictures will get me press passes for backstage events for HER. (I am laughing out loud as I type).
And then....the world stopped.
Everything went cold.
Dark.
I am still immersed in it, but there is a flame. A small ember of hope, deep inside of my heart.
She wanted this for me. She wanted me to continue with this. I am certain. I can feel it.
And because of this, I will be attending Electric Forest 2018. I will do it for my mom, and I will do it for myself. Even if nothing comes from it, but the healing of my heart.
Nothing is Coincidence.
Not anymore.
I leave you with the song I showed my mom, in a kitchen full of laughter, and warmth.
Zeds Dead-White Satin
Nights in white satin
Never reaching the end
Letters I've written
Never meaning to send
Never reaching the end
Letters I've written
Never meaning to send
Beauty I'd always missed
With these eyes before
Just what the truth is
I can't say any more
With these eyes before
Just what the truth is
I can't say any more
'Cause I love you
Yes I love you
Oh how I love you
Yes I love you
Oh how I love you
Gazing at people, some hand in hand
Just what I'm going through they can't understand
Some try to tell me, thoughts they cannot defend
Just what you want to be, you will be in the end
Just what I'm going through they can't understand
Some try to tell me, thoughts they cannot defend
Just what you want to be, you will be in the end
And I love you
Yes I love you
Oh how I love you
Oh how I love you
Yes I love you
Oh how I love you
Oh how I love you
Nights in white satin
Never reaching the end
Letters I've written
Never…
Never reaching the end
Letters I've written
Never…
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
I'm Not Okay, I Promise.
I have not been doing well the last few days.
You probably have not noticed, if you do not keep close contact with me.
Hell, even if you do talk with me regularly, it still might not have been apparent. I will shove back my feelings, and laugh-even as I am hollow inside. I want to hide from most people, so maybe it hasn't been apparent at all.
Who knows.
To me, it's obvious.
I don't like the way I'm feeling. I'm angry all the time. At everyone.
The people I'm closest to have been the ones I lash out at. I see myself doing it. And I can't stop it.
If the anger dies down, the hurt takes over.
And then I can't think. I can't breathe. I can't function.
At least when I'm angry, or numb, I can get through my day. Autopilot.
Right now, the anger has subsided some. I finally opened up to some people today, my dad included.
The problem is, I'm sick of talking about it.
I'm so sick of repeating the words.
My mom died.
She died.
That's my reality. It's my identity. I'm not Jessica. I'm the girl who's mom died.
I'm not me anymore.
I don't know if I will ever be me again. It doesn't feel like it. I am changing. I am different that I was.
A friend told me, "Of course this will change you. Everything will be different. And in the end, you won't want to be the old you."
Maybe one day, that will be true. Maybe I will come out of this stronger. Better.
But right now? No. I am not stronger. I am less of a mother. Less of a friend. Less than.
Nothing matters. Nothing is important. I dread the passage of time. I resent the seasons.
It has gotten to the point where the messages from people are fewer, less and less people check up on me. This is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, like I said, I am angry. So the messages that pop up, they aggravate me. How am I?? Ha. Have I found out how my mom died yet??? Seriously?? That's what you want to ask me?? As if you want to know any more than I do. As if you could possibly be more affected by this than I am. Get real.
I'm short with my answers, if I answer at all. That's not fair, I know these people care. But, I can't help it.
So the messages are fewer. Days stretch between people "checking in". And I'm not getting any better.
The façade that I have been putting up is cracking. I sat down to write this blog tonight, and I started bawling in the middle of it. My heart just hurts. I want to be better. I'm disappointed in myself. I feel like I'm letting everyone down, especially my kids. All they get is a mom, who goes through the motions but isn't present. Not like before. And my mom would be on me about keeping these boys happy and healthy. I can hear her voice, telling me to get off my ass and keep my head up for these babies.
But, her voice is far away. Only in memories now. And the enormity of that...it just hurts.
I've not been okay.
I don't know when I'll be okay again.
A song that reminds me of her.
You probably have not noticed, if you do not keep close contact with me.
Hell, even if you do talk with me regularly, it still might not have been apparent. I will shove back my feelings, and laugh-even as I am hollow inside. I want to hide from most people, so maybe it hasn't been apparent at all.
Who knows.
To me, it's obvious.
I don't like the way I'm feeling. I'm angry all the time. At everyone.
The people I'm closest to have been the ones I lash out at. I see myself doing it. And I can't stop it.
If the anger dies down, the hurt takes over.
And then I can't think. I can't breathe. I can't function.
At least when I'm angry, or numb, I can get through my day. Autopilot.
Right now, the anger has subsided some. I finally opened up to some people today, my dad included.
The problem is, I'm sick of talking about it.
I'm so sick of repeating the words.
My mom died.
She died.
That's my reality. It's my identity. I'm not Jessica. I'm the girl who's mom died.
I'm not me anymore.
I don't know if I will ever be me again. It doesn't feel like it. I am changing. I am different that I was.
A friend told me, "Of course this will change you. Everything will be different. And in the end, you won't want to be the old you."
Maybe one day, that will be true. Maybe I will come out of this stronger. Better.
But right now? No. I am not stronger. I am less of a mother. Less of a friend. Less than.
Nothing matters. Nothing is important. I dread the passage of time. I resent the seasons.
It has gotten to the point where the messages from people are fewer, less and less people check up on me. This is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, like I said, I am angry. So the messages that pop up, they aggravate me. How am I?? Ha. Have I found out how my mom died yet??? Seriously?? That's what you want to ask me?? As if you want to know any more than I do. As if you could possibly be more affected by this than I am. Get real.
I'm short with my answers, if I answer at all. That's not fair, I know these people care. But, I can't help it.
So the messages are fewer. Days stretch between people "checking in". And I'm not getting any better.
The façade that I have been putting up is cracking. I sat down to write this blog tonight, and I started bawling in the middle of it. My heart just hurts. I want to be better. I'm disappointed in myself. I feel like I'm letting everyone down, especially my kids. All they get is a mom, who goes through the motions but isn't present. Not like before. And my mom would be on me about keeping these boys happy and healthy. I can hear her voice, telling me to get off my ass and keep my head up for these babies.
But, her voice is far away. Only in memories now. And the enormity of that...it just hurts.
I've not been okay.
I don't know when I'll be okay again.
A song that reminds me of her.
Monday, September 25, 2017
Just Like A Crow Chasing The Butterfly
It's a cold and rainy morning. One I typically would love. I love fall; feeling the first cool days after summer wears itself out. My mom and I both loved cooler weather, even though we both grew up in California. It seems kind of silly, you would think we would be conditioned for hot weather, and sitting next to the ocean. But hot and sweaty just wasn't our thing. I daresay it was one of the things my mom enjoyed most about Nebraska- the changing of the seasons. Fall is nice here, we actually get the changing of the leaves as the temperature drops.
It's cold and rainy now, and because of that I feel like she's around.
So many people have said "She'll never leave."
"She's always watching out for you."
"You are never alone."
Token things you said to someone who is grieving. I don't mean that with disrespect. I, too, have said similar things to friends or family that has lost someone dear to them. It's supposed to be comforting, knowing that your loved one is still close, even if their physical body is no longer here.
I wanted to reject these comments. It made me bitter.
No, see- She DID leave. She's not here. I AM alone. I can't see her, or touch her, or hear her, or smell her any more. She's. Not. Here.
That's angry Jessica. On top of the immense sadness I feel, there is so much anger that I don't know what to do with. Oh, I'm angry at everyone. It's not fair, and it doesn't make sense. But, I'm angry at everyone.
The first few days after my mom passed, I would be at a stoplight, staring off into space. I would notice cars turning or passing by, some being driven by elderly individuals. I would feel the anger rise in my throat like bile. "Why not YOU? You are well passed my mom's age. You lived your life. WHY. NOT. YOU." Thinking terrible things. Shouting, screaming in my head. "Why take my mom? She had so much left to do. So many plans. She was so. fucking. young."
That's not fair, though. I can't be mad at a little old man driving his car. I can't wish for the sacrifice of someone else, to bring my mom back. That's morbid, and wrong. I know this, in the part of my brain that's still rational. That part, though, seems much smaller and far away than the rest of my brain that is still in shock. The rational part takes a back seat to all the other things I've been thinking and feeling.
I'm angry at everyone on social media. It's almost laughable. (In fact the one that would laugh the most about it is my mom)
I'll be scrolling through my Facebook news feed. People just posting about their daily lives, you know, using Facebook the way it's intended....and I hate them. Oh, good, I'm glad you're having an AWESOME time in Mexico. Oh wow, look at what you made for dinner. Gosh, so riveting. So many memes. So many happy freaking people. Or even worse, people that aren't happy, that are complaining about stupid, meaningless things...(which I am also, totally guilty of). I hate them all. I find myself scrolling faster and faster until the words are blurred, and really now it's just something to do with my hands. My mind isn't tracking. I don't really care. I'm just angry.
I know that will get better with time. But the anger scares me a bit. I don't like not feeling in control of my own emotions.
So angry Jessica is still around, hearing those comments about how "She'll never leave" me, even though she did.
But, I wanted to talk about some of the things that have happened since my mom's death, that make me believe that maybe there's something to that whole "She's always with you" line.
My mom died on a Tuesday morning (tomorrow will be exactly two weeks). That day was a blur. I don't want to go into what I felt when I found out. It's not pretty. It hurts. But that is the day that some thing started. Actually, Monday evening I had my best friend over and we were playing outside with the kids. Butterflies were EVERYWHERE. They were all over town, not just at my house, but regardless, my street was just covered with butterflies floating in the wind. It was crazy, and fun.
Tuesday happened. And one thing that stands out were those butterflies. Oh, there were everywhere. I have a small patch of Lavender in a planter by my front door. Every time I would walk out of the house, dozens of butterflies would flutter around me. I admit I didn't think too much of it, until I got to my parent's house and I was talking to my aunts. Those butterflies meant something. Talking about it made me sure, that they were meant for me. The butterfly thing will come full circle, but let's move on to Wednesday.
Wednesday my dad and I had to go to the funeral home. As you can imagine, it was a very hard day. My dad and I sat opposite each other with the funeral director at the head of the table. Early on in our appointment the director mentioned to us that he was the only one in the building, and that if the phone rang or someone came in, he would have to quickly take care of it and then he would be back with us. Totally fine. Our appointment went along, talking about terribly hard things, making terribly hard decisions. We had just gotten on to the topic of having a rabbi perform the service, something my dad and I were still undecided about. My mom was Jewish, and though she wasn't orthodox and she didn't attend Temple, we still wanted to honor her in the best way possible. So, as the three of us are discussing that, and if it's something we would like to look in to, the phone rang. The funeral director excused himself to go answer the phone, and at the point his chair was pointing towards me My dad looks at me and says something to the effect of "Well, what do you think, should we go for a rabbi?" And, before I can answer, out of the corner of my eye, I notice something moving. Both my dad and I turned our heads to look, and the funeral director's chair is turning, from facing me to pointing directly to my dad.
We don't say anything, we look at the chair and then back at each other, then back to the chair.
My dad says "So....we're getting a rabbi I guess."
And I reply with "Yep, that just happened."
Let me interject here, and tell you something about myself. I fully, 100% believe in spirits. My whole life I have gotten feelings, and seen things, things that I just can't explain. I don't know where all that falls in with faith, or heaven, or hell, or God. All I know is, I believe in the possibility of there still being certain presences here on Earth, after death. I always have. Typically, that frightens me. Some of the things I have encountered have not been pleasant. I believe that there can be just as many malevolent spirits that wish to scare and disturb us, as there are good spirits that are around to comfort us. This is just a personal belief. Take it for what you will. The point is, the idea scares me. The unknown scares me.
This being said, when my dad and I watched the chair move at the funeral home, I felt no fear. I wasn't scared, I was comforted and maybe a little amused, despite the situation.
Later that day, I went back home. I walked up to my door about was literally swarmed by butterflies. I felt each individual butterfly as they floated around me, I felt the brush of their wings against my face. And I thought out of nowhere, so clearly, "Hello, Momma." It didn't even feel like my own thought. It was an unconscious acknowledgement, that the butterflies were there for a reason, and that their presence was more than just insects hanging around flowers.
I went inside and discussed things with my husband and I started crying again. Continued crying for a while. I decided I wanted to get out of the house for a bit (something that I would need to do a lot), and clear my mind. I opened the door and stood outside, still talking about my mom. Still talking about things I didn't want to be talking about anymore. I said to my husband "Okay, I don't want to talk about this anymore." and turned away towards my car. As I did, a butterfly slapped right into my face. I laughed. Sorry, Mom.
Every time I got into the car on Wednesday, one of our songs was playing. I'm not kidding, every single time. It must have happened at least 4 or 5 times. In one day. It was either Bon Jovi, or Def Leppard, or Heart, or something that meant something to me, or to her. Songs that I hadn't heard on the radio for years started playing. And they would start right when I would start the car, or change the station. I have another example that I will talk about in a second.
Another day that week, at a particularly low point as I was driving to my parent's house, I said out loud, " Okay Momma. I'm drowning here. I need something from you. I need a really clear sign. Come to me in a dream. Something. I need you." (Seems a little silly now, as I type this all out. She was being pretty clear there for a while.) I went to bed that night thinking, "Okay, maybe she'll be in my dreams tonight, I'm sure she heard me."
She did not come to me in my dream. In fact, she still hasn't. But, that night I did not dream of my mom. I woke up sad. I received a text message from my best friend a little bit later that said "Listen, I don't want to freak you out, but your mom came to me last night." And after talking to that friend, I knew that without a shadow of a doubt, my mom was indeed with her that night. She described a situation that she saw in her dream, that really happened. And there was no way she could have known that it did. And she described my mom's presence, that I would later feel myself, and knew it to be true.
One evening, I needed to get away again. I needed to just drive. So I got into my car, expecting to hear one of mom's songs. I flipped through all of the channels and was disappointed to find none of our songs playing. I said out loud "Damnit Mom!", but before I could even finish saying those two words, "Vogue" by Madonna started playing. Let me explain. My mom always told this story of me as a baby. Before I could really walk well, my mom was playing Madonna's Hits (I believe on record!) and apparently, I pulled myself up on a table and started bopping to the beat. As I grew up, my mom and I listened to Madonna often, and my favorites to listen to with her were "Like a Prayer" and, you guessed it, "Vogue". My mom and I would dance in the car, and I would watch with total and complete adoration as my mom "vogued" and we would "strike a pose" together.
So, "Vogue" starts as I'm driving, and I start laugh/crying. And I feel jolts of electricity down my right side. The air in the car changes. I have goosebumps down my right arm and leg, my heart is beating like crazy. I can FEEL my mom. She's in the car with me. I FELT her, her big personality, this huge presence. It was like, if I reached out next to me, I would feel something solid. She is there, I know it. I have her in the car with me. Making me sing the song with her. I can hear her voice. I am not afraid. I'm not ashamed, (though I supposed maybe I should be. If anyone looked into my car that evening, they saw a crazy laugh/crying psycho blasting Madonna), It feels natural, and normal. Just driving with my mom. Something we had done thousands of times. I got that feeling of comfort again.
Coming home that same evening, as soon as I got into the car, Bon Jovi's "Blaze of Glory" came on, and I again knew it was her. I cranked it up and cried all the way home.
She was with me one morning, after I dropped the kids off at school. Clear as day I hear in my head "Call NPPD". I knew we were behind on our electricity payment, but I couldn't bring myself to care enough. I heard her voice say that, and I argued back in my head not really even thinking about it. "It can wait," I told myself. I turned the radio on....and it was a NPPD commercial.
I called NPPD when I got home.
I felt her with me on the day of her funeral. That whole day was hard, and a story for another time, but she cracked a joke to me during a certain time, and I came to find out later, at the same time my dad was getting his hand squeezed by her. We both had to bite our lips from laughing, during a situation that wasn't very funny. But, it would have been-to her.
Each one of these things has come with the same sense of peace, and comfort, and humor. That really how I know it's my mom. Nothing else could give me a sense of peace and security in this time, aside from her. When the anger rises back up, I think on the times that she's been around, even after she's gone. And I think, she wants me to chill out. She wants me to put my head up, push my shoulders back, and walk tall.
So, that's what I keep trying to do.
I'll have more to write soon. Thank you for caring enough about me, and about my mom, to read these.
Until next time,
Jessica.
It's cold and rainy now, and because of that I feel like she's around.
So many people have said "She'll never leave."
"She's always watching out for you."
"You are never alone."
Token things you said to someone who is grieving. I don't mean that with disrespect. I, too, have said similar things to friends or family that has lost someone dear to them. It's supposed to be comforting, knowing that your loved one is still close, even if their physical body is no longer here.
I wanted to reject these comments. It made me bitter.
No, see- She DID leave. She's not here. I AM alone. I can't see her, or touch her, or hear her, or smell her any more. She's. Not. Here.
That's angry Jessica. On top of the immense sadness I feel, there is so much anger that I don't know what to do with. Oh, I'm angry at everyone. It's not fair, and it doesn't make sense. But, I'm angry at everyone.
The first few days after my mom passed, I would be at a stoplight, staring off into space. I would notice cars turning or passing by, some being driven by elderly individuals. I would feel the anger rise in my throat like bile. "Why not YOU? You are well passed my mom's age. You lived your life. WHY. NOT. YOU." Thinking terrible things. Shouting, screaming in my head. "Why take my mom? She had so much left to do. So many plans. She was so. fucking. young."
That's not fair, though. I can't be mad at a little old man driving his car. I can't wish for the sacrifice of someone else, to bring my mom back. That's morbid, and wrong. I know this, in the part of my brain that's still rational. That part, though, seems much smaller and far away than the rest of my brain that is still in shock. The rational part takes a back seat to all the other things I've been thinking and feeling.
I'm angry at everyone on social media. It's almost laughable. (In fact the one that would laugh the most about it is my mom)
I'll be scrolling through my Facebook news feed. People just posting about their daily lives, you know, using Facebook the way it's intended....and I hate them. Oh, good, I'm glad you're having an AWESOME time in Mexico. Oh wow, look at what you made for dinner. Gosh, so riveting. So many memes. So many happy freaking people. Or even worse, people that aren't happy, that are complaining about stupid, meaningless things...(which I am also, totally guilty of). I hate them all. I find myself scrolling faster and faster until the words are blurred, and really now it's just something to do with my hands. My mind isn't tracking. I don't really care. I'm just angry.
I know that will get better with time. But the anger scares me a bit. I don't like not feeling in control of my own emotions.
So angry Jessica is still around, hearing those comments about how "She'll never leave" me, even though she did.
But, I wanted to talk about some of the things that have happened since my mom's death, that make me believe that maybe there's something to that whole "She's always with you" line.
My mom died on a Tuesday morning (tomorrow will be exactly two weeks). That day was a blur. I don't want to go into what I felt when I found out. It's not pretty. It hurts. But that is the day that some thing started. Actually, Monday evening I had my best friend over and we were playing outside with the kids. Butterflies were EVERYWHERE. They were all over town, not just at my house, but regardless, my street was just covered with butterflies floating in the wind. It was crazy, and fun.
Tuesday happened. And one thing that stands out were those butterflies. Oh, there were everywhere. I have a small patch of Lavender in a planter by my front door. Every time I would walk out of the house, dozens of butterflies would flutter around me. I admit I didn't think too much of it, until I got to my parent's house and I was talking to my aunts. Those butterflies meant something. Talking about it made me sure, that they were meant for me. The butterfly thing will come full circle, but let's move on to Wednesday.
Wednesday my dad and I had to go to the funeral home. As you can imagine, it was a very hard day. My dad and I sat opposite each other with the funeral director at the head of the table. Early on in our appointment the director mentioned to us that he was the only one in the building, and that if the phone rang or someone came in, he would have to quickly take care of it and then he would be back with us. Totally fine. Our appointment went along, talking about terribly hard things, making terribly hard decisions. We had just gotten on to the topic of having a rabbi perform the service, something my dad and I were still undecided about. My mom was Jewish, and though she wasn't orthodox and she didn't attend Temple, we still wanted to honor her in the best way possible. So, as the three of us are discussing that, and if it's something we would like to look in to, the phone rang. The funeral director excused himself to go answer the phone, and at the point his chair was pointing towards me My dad looks at me and says something to the effect of "Well, what do you think, should we go for a rabbi?" And, before I can answer, out of the corner of my eye, I notice something moving. Both my dad and I turned our heads to look, and the funeral director's chair is turning, from facing me to pointing directly to my dad.
We don't say anything, we look at the chair and then back at each other, then back to the chair.
My dad says "So....we're getting a rabbi I guess."
And I reply with "Yep, that just happened."
Let me interject here, and tell you something about myself. I fully, 100% believe in spirits. My whole life I have gotten feelings, and seen things, things that I just can't explain. I don't know where all that falls in with faith, or heaven, or hell, or God. All I know is, I believe in the possibility of there still being certain presences here on Earth, after death. I always have. Typically, that frightens me. Some of the things I have encountered have not been pleasant. I believe that there can be just as many malevolent spirits that wish to scare and disturb us, as there are good spirits that are around to comfort us. This is just a personal belief. Take it for what you will. The point is, the idea scares me. The unknown scares me.
This being said, when my dad and I watched the chair move at the funeral home, I felt no fear. I wasn't scared, I was comforted and maybe a little amused, despite the situation.
Later that day, I went back home. I walked up to my door about was literally swarmed by butterflies. I felt each individual butterfly as they floated around me, I felt the brush of their wings against my face. And I thought out of nowhere, so clearly, "Hello, Momma." It didn't even feel like my own thought. It was an unconscious acknowledgement, that the butterflies were there for a reason, and that their presence was more than just insects hanging around flowers.
I went inside and discussed things with my husband and I started crying again. Continued crying for a while. I decided I wanted to get out of the house for a bit (something that I would need to do a lot), and clear my mind. I opened the door and stood outside, still talking about my mom. Still talking about things I didn't want to be talking about anymore. I said to my husband "Okay, I don't want to talk about this anymore." and turned away towards my car. As I did, a butterfly slapped right into my face. I laughed. Sorry, Mom.
Every time I got into the car on Wednesday, one of our songs was playing. I'm not kidding, every single time. It must have happened at least 4 or 5 times. In one day. It was either Bon Jovi, or Def Leppard, or Heart, or something that meant something to me, or to her. Songs that I hadn't heard on the radio for years started playing. And they would start right when I would start the car, or change the station. I have another example that I will talk about in a second.
Another day that week, at a particularly low point as I was driving to my parent's house, I said out loud, " Okay Momma. I'm drowning here. I need something from you. I need a really clear sign. Come to me in a dream. Something. I need you." (Seems a little silly now, as I type this all out. She was being pretty clear there for a while.) I went to bed that night thinking, "Okay, maybe she'll be in my dreams tonight, I'm sure she heard me."
She did not come to me in my dream. In fact, she still hasn't. But, that night I did not dream of my mom. I woke up sad. I received a text message from my best friend a little bit later that said "Listen, I don't want to freak you out, but your mom came to me last night." And after talking to that friend, I knew that without a shadow of a doubt, my mom was indeed with her that night. She described a situation that she saw in her dream, that really happened. And there was no way she could have known that it did. And she described my mom's presence, that I would later feel myself, and knew it to be true.
One evening, I needed to get away again. I needed to just drive. So I got into my car, expecting to hear one of mom's songs. I flipped through all of the channels and was disappointed to find none of our songs playing. I said out loud "Damnit Mom!", but before I could even finish saying those two words, "Vogue" by Madonna started playing. Let me explain. My mom always told this story of me as a baby. Before I could really walk well, my mom was playing Madonna's Hits (I believe on record!) and apparently, I pulled myself up on a table and started bopping to the beat. As I grew up, my mom and I listened to Madonna often, and my favorites to listen to with her were "Like a Prayer" and, you guessed it, "Vogue". My mom and I would dance in the car, and I would watch with total and complete adoration as my mom "vogued" and we would "strike a pose" together.
So, "Vogue" starts as I'm driving, and I start laugh/crying. And I feel jolts of electricity down my right side. The air in the car changes. I have goosebumps down my right arm and leg, my heart is beating like crazy. I can FEEL my mom. She's in the car with me. I FELT her, her big personality, this huge presence. It was like, if I reached out next to me, I would feel something solid. She is there, I know it. I have her in the car with me. Making me sing the song with her. I can hear her voice. I am not afraid. I'm not ashamed, (though I supposed maybe I should be. If anyone looked into my car that evening, they saw a crazy laugh/crying psycho blasting Madonna), It feels natural, and normal. Just driving with my mom. Something we had done thousands of times. I got that feeling of comfort again.
Coming home that same evening, as soon as I got into the car, Bon Jovi's "Blaze of Glory" came on, and I again knew it was her. I cranked it up and cried all the way home.
She was with me one morning, after I dropped the kids off at school. Clear as day I hear in my head "Call NPPD". I knew we were behind on our electricity payment, but I couldn't bring myself to care enough. I heard her voice say that, and I argued back in my head not really even thinking about it. "It can wait," I told myself. I turned the radio on....and it was a NPPD commercial.
I called NPPD when I got home.
I felt her with me on the day of her funeral. That whole day was hard, and a story for another time, but she cracked a joke to me during a certain time, and I came to find out later, at the same time my dad was getting his hand squeezed by her. We both had to bite our lips from laughing, during a situation that wasn't very funny. But, it would have been-to her.
Each one of these things has come with the same sense of peace, and comfort, and humor. That really how I know it's my mom. Nothing else could give me a sense of peace and security in this time, aside from her. When the anger rises back up, I think on the times that she's been around, even after she's gone. And I think, she wants me to chill out. She wants me to put my head up, push my shoulders back, and walk tall.
So, that's what I keep trying to do.
I'll have more to write soon. Thank you for caring enough about me, and about my mom, to read these.
Until next time,
Jessica.
The new tattoo I got for my mom. I think you know why.
Saturday, September 23, 2017
In One Second, Everything Changes.
When I went through tough things in the past, writing it all seemed to help me. I am hoping that maybe it will have the same therapeutic effects for me now.
My life has changed so drastically since my last blog post. But, this month...my world stopped.
On Tuesday, September 12th, 2017, my mom died.
Without warning, without illness, without answers.
There's so much I want to say, but my mind is still so scrambled and nothing makes sense.
Right now, it still feels very surreal. Like she's on vacation, and she'll come home any minute. Like she'll walk through the door, laughing, and wrap her arms around me in press a big smacking kiss on my cheek, literally saying "MMMMMWAAHHHH" as she does it.
I can hear her so clearly that it seems almost possible that she's just in the other room.
But she isn't.
Damnit, I had all these things I wanted to say. All these "otherworldly" experiences I wanted to share. I wanted to talk about what it was like to speak at my mom's funeral, with a crippling case of stage fright. I wanted to recount the last day I had with my mom. I wanted to open up and get all of these feelings out.
But I just can't get it out.
Today was my first day back to work and it was so hard to pretend like everything is okay.
It isn't. It feels like it won't ever be okay.
I miss my mom. I miss her so much I can't breathe. I can't think right. I'm terrified for my dad. I'm terrified for ME. I'm not ready to be without her.
I'm 28. I'm an adult. I have children of my own. I've been living on my own for years. But I am not ready to be without my mommy. This is not how it was supposed to be.
My heart is broken. It HURTS. Everything aches. Even as I smile and try to get through my day.
I want my mom back. I cannot do this alone.
I'm sorry. I wanted to write more. I just can't yet.
Maybe next time.
Until then, if you know me personally, maybe just check in on me. Stop and make sure I am not wallowing. That's all I want to do, is run and hide. If you know me, maybe just...help me not do that.
I don't like asking for help. The person who knew that most is gone now. But I know she would want me to reach out for support.
My life has changed so drastically since my last blog post. But, this month...my world stopped.
On Tuesday, September 12th, 2017, my mom died.
Without warning, without illness, without answers.
There's so much I want to say, but my mind is still so scrambled and nothing makes sense.
Right now, it still feels very surreal. Like she's on vacation, and she'll come home any minute. Like she'll walk through the door, laughing, and wrap her arms around me in press a big smacking kiss on my cheek, literally saying "MMMMMWAAHHHH" as she does it.
I can hear her so clearly that it seems almost possible that she's just in the other room.
But she isn't.
Damnit, I had all these things I wanted to say. All these "otherworldly" experiences I wanted to share. I wanted to talk about what it was like to speak at my mom's funeral, with a crippling case of stage fright. I wanted to recount the last day I had with my mom. I wanted to open up and get all of these feelings out.
But I just can't get it out.
Today was my first day back to work and it was so hard to pretend like everything is okay.
It isn't. It feels like it won't ever be okay.
I miss my mom. I miss her so much I can't breathe. I can't think right. I'm terrified for my dad. I'm terrified for ME. I'm not ready to be without her.
I'm 28. I'm an adult. I have children of my own. I've been living on my own for years. But I am not ready to be without my mommy. This is not how it was supposed to be.
My heart is broken. It HURTS. Everything aches. Even as I smile and try to get through my day.
I want my mom back. I cannot do this alone.
I'm sorry. I wanted to write more. I just can't yet.
Maybe next time.
Until then, if you know me personally, maybe just check in on me. Stop and make sure I am not wallowing. That's all I want to do, is run and hide. If you know me, maybe just...help me not do that.
I don't like asking for help. The person who knew that most is gone now. But I know she would want me to reach out for support.
Cathy Henderson
April 23, 1964 - September 12, 2017
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