June Has 30 Days

Two weeks ago I wrenched my back. I have strained my back a handful of times in the past 35 years. I have never so seriously twisted it. I have seen my osteopath twice in the last week, which is another first. I am still moving slowly but I think I am on the right track to recovery.

When I saw the DO for the second time on Tuesday she said she hadn't seen me in such bad shape before. We reviewed what had been going on in the last month. The first week of May I drove 1200 miles to Philadelphia and back with my granddaughter and daughter, for her job. I walked and walked  all over University City with Maggie while my daughter worked. Then the two of them had a day at Hershey Park as we headed north, while I had a lovely visit with a dear friend. It was a wonderful week, beginning and ending with stop-overs near Boston to visit with my sons and their families.

When I got home I started taking things out of my bedroom to prepare for fresh paint on the walls and trim. I left just the bed. I took my time so it took a week to prepare the room and several days to paint. Through the whole project I was careful not to twist and lift, careful to secure my footing on the ladder, sure to take regular breaks to rest and eat, and I didn't push myself to finish. All went well until the last evening, when I put non-skid coasters under the bed...and on the lift of the second corner I felt the pop. Uh oh. I thought I had strained my back and it would take a few days of taking it easy to feel better. I already had an appointment scheduled with my osteopath six days out and surely by then I would be in better shape.

No such luck. She worked and worked and everything hurt. She did all she could in one treatment and told me to call for another appointment if I didn't feel better in three days. It was a holiday weekend so I left a message Monday evening and I went in again Tuesday. She could tell right away that things were still twisted. That's when she went back through all that I had done in May. Then she asked if there had been any additional stress.

It took me a moment to gather myself. I answered that last year these were the days when I was with my mom in the hospital in West Virginia. I have been reading through the notes I took during that time in a journal filled with dates, times, phone numbers, conversations, doctors' reports, tests done, mom's condition, questions to ask, and next steps. There is very little about how I was feeling. There was no time to process all that was happening ~ I needed to stay present to be there for mom. That's when my doctor reminded me how busy the rest of the summer was. She asked me if I have taken time to process the feelings. I told her I had been trying to reframe that experience; and as I have gone through decades of photos I have also been trying to reframe how I think about my mom's life. She said she could feel a shift in my body as I talked. Ah ha. There's something else to think about and process.

When I left the doctor's office on Tuesday I did feel a bit better. Today, June 1, I am moving more freely and with less pain. That's true for my feelings as well. The best way I know to work things through is to write.

June has 30 days. That gives me thirty opportunities to write.

Let me end with a poem by Lemn Sissay, shared by Anna on my last post:

"How do you do it?" said night
"How do you wake and shine?"
"I keep it simple." said light

"One day at a time."     

Almost May

Tomorrow is the first day of May. It's a rainy windy end to April here. There are intentional daffodils blooming in the yard for the first time ~ I planted bulbs last fall.

Fifteen years ago I started this blog. Officially I started it in March with a brief post. My idea was to connect with family and friends who live elsewhere. That worked to some extent. An unexpected benefit was the connection with other bloggers, some of whom I still keep in touch with, although not all through blogging these days. 

I am not ready to give up blogging. I just want to figure out how to write about what I am thinking about now. 

It has been a rough couple of months ~ lots of feelings around the loss of my mom and how to reframe how I think about that. I haven't yet celebrated her life. Next weekend there will be time with my children and grandchildren to remember her, a simple informal gathering to share whatever comes to mind. I have gathered a few photos. I want to keep things open and easy.

There is more to write about. There is more to come.

The journey continues.... 

  

Begin

For weeks I have been mulling over what my word of the year would be. Today a word I hadn't even considered settled in my consciousness and wouldn't leave.

My word for 2023 is begin.

So much has happened in the last three months ~ bronchitis, the holidays, covid again, work drama. 

I get caught up in the day to day. Then a week has gone by. Then it's a month later. I'm where I was and not where I want to be. 

Leave the "have-to's" and "shoulds" behind. Put aside the worry and self-doubt. 

Just begin.

Arrange photos in albums. Create memory books. Send notes. Try recipes. Knit new patterns. Design quilts. Make clothes with patterns new to me. Envision flower gardens. Write poetry.

It's all right there. It's all possible.

Begin.

Two Months Later...

 I had plans. As often happens, life had other ideas.

I was looking forward to house/pet-sitting for my daughter the weekend before Thanksgiving. I had some projects to do for her, and I was going to write and catch up on correspondence. By Saturday the annoying, hacking cough and runny nose I'd had since Tuesday morphed into fatigue and shortness of breath. I managed to keep moving, albeit slowly and with frequent resting, and got some things done with the help of my husband. By Sunday I was all-in and home in bed before noon. I saw the doctor Monday and had a chest x-ray Tuesday: the good news was my lungs were clear; the bad news was that it was a virus that had to run its course. The week was cancelled. My daughter brought groceries on Wednesday and courses from the dinner she had made for Thursday. My husband started fighting a cold, so we were quarantined for the duration. By Tuesday this week, two weeks since the start, I felt well enough to go back to work.

Yes, I have a part-time job, started the first week in October. Three afternoons a week I work at my granddaughter's after-school-care program. I love it. I get to be with 25-30 kids from kindergarten to elementary school age, and I get to talk to adults I enjoy working alongside. We are a creative group, thinking of crafts we can do and always ready to change things to improve the program.

In September I started helping my daughter organize rooms at her house. I love that sort of thing, and it has meant that I get to spend time with her. We work and talk and have lunch and work some more. She passed me her fabric for safe keeping and told me to use what I want, setting aside the solids for her future projects. I have had so much fun sorting and organizing and dreaming of all the things I can do! This set me on the path to take a hard look at my sewing room, what works and what doesn't. In August I brought my mom's wooden kitchen table home to replace the computer table I had been using, and I wanted the room to be more functional...which led to completely rearranging the furniture. I didn't even have everything put away yet, and I just had to sit down and start sewing! The biggest change, and the most necessary move to make the room work for me, is that there is no longer room for the twin-bed trundle to become a king-size bed. The room still works for little guests but no longer for adults. There is a double-size futon downstairs and various other sleeping options for individuals. I was holding a space for once-or-twice-a-year visits, which was a surprising realization...

which seems to be the theme for this fall. Ideas and feelings have bubbled to the surface, and I have accepted them all. No anxiety. No fear. No denial.

The river continues to flow. There is a lot going on underneath the surface....

Like A River

When I traveled to West Virginia in August, I took two books with me. One I never opened. The other was Mark Nepo's The Book of Awakening,  a year of meditations that I have opened countless times over the course of many years. As fate would have it, the entry for August 7 was exactly what I needed to read:

What We Bring Along

A river doesn't hold all the water that passes through it.

In our journey through time, we all struggle constantly with what to bring along and what to leave behind. It feels so hard to throw anything away, but if we don't, we will drown underneath a weight of our own making.

The river is a good model. It doesn't own the water that rushes by, yet it couldn't be in more intimate relationship to it, as the force of what moves through shapes it. It is the same with everything we love. In truth, there is no point to holding on to the deepest things that matter, for they have already shaped us.

The purpose of sentiment, then, is to release the powerful feelings that sleep in us. Sometimes books and cards and shells and dried flowers do this. But often we carry more than we need, seldom trusting that what these small treasures represent is already living within us. Often the most useful gift we can give ourselves is to lay our lives open like a river. 

My perspective has shifted. I see everything differently. I am not dragging possessions or ideas or relationships along with me just because I am used to them being in my life. It is not only a useful gift, but it is essential at this point. 

I imagine my life as a river, letting myself go with the flow, holding onto only what serves me well.

As I went to bed the night before last I realized that I was feeling happy. I don't remember the last time I felt that content and at ease. 

Flowing like a river is working for me. 

The Final Chapter

The book is almost closed on what needs to happen to settle my mom's affairs. Last week we accepted an offer on the sale of her trailer, which was not a given. My mom owned the trailer but not the property on which it sits; a neighbor wanted to buy it but the property owner refused to allow him to leave it where it sits, and the location is why he wanted to buy it for his mother-in-law. Yet after several attempts the property owner wouldn't give me a clear answer about what he wanted to do...until the day before the deadline when he texted an offer, which we accepted the same day. Next week my brother will transfer the title and the final chapter will be complete.

I made the two-day trip to West Virginia with two important pieces of advice in mind: Jacqueline's comment to accept that things had served my mother well and it was time to let them go; and Helen's advice to set up zones for keep/donate/throw and to touch things only once. I would not have been able to do the job in ten days without those things in mind.

I was not prepared for what I would find. My mother's trailer was exactly as she had left it and the large storage unit was almost full. The only thing to do was to begin, somewhere, anywhere. As I went through boxes, bins, closets, drawers and shelves, I set aside items for my brother to go through and things that I knew I wanted. I was able to sell the best pieces of furniture. I donated books, magazines, and puzzles to the nursing home and medical equipment to the Commission on Aging. I made one trip to a Goodwill store 40 miles away with a carload of electronics, dishes, utensils, pans, and blankets. My brother and sister-in-law each filled a vehicle, and I came home with a carload of items I will enjoy and use to share family history with my children and grandchildren. Everything else was discarded. As hard as it was, it was what had to happen. 

Ten days, 18 hours a day, and I was done. It was emotional and cathartic at the same time. I was able to stay present the entire time, which was essential for the tasks as hand. It was hot and humid so the afternoon thunderstorms were a welcome relief. I drank copious amounts of water. I talked to the neighbor's dog, Daisy, who made regular visits for pets and treats. I shared progress with family and my closest friend, whose encouragement and humor kept me going.

Through it all I felt my mom's energy and approval. I never doubted that we would find the help we needed or that we would finish the job at hand. I am grateful that I had the time and energy to do the work, and that my brother and I had time to work things through together. I think we did mom proud. 

Hello August

The support of friends and family has meant the world to me. That so many have walked this path before is a great comfort.

July held lots of conversations with my brother about all the things that need to happen to settle our mom's affairs. She lived in a small town in eastern West Virginia and the small-town connections have been helpful. The lawyer who is handling probate has an office around the corner from the courthouse; the manager of the storage facility knew a used furniture dealer to recommend; the home health aid has continued to take in the mail and water the plants on her own time; again and again one phone call has led to another phone call that has led to the person I need to talk to. I have been amazed with the information I have been able to collect from 700 miles away.

Distance communication has limitations, and my brother and I have done all we can without being in the same place at the same time. We need to figure out what to do with possessions as well as the small trailer she lived in. There isn't a thrift store or Goodwill in the town and any place to donate household items is an hour away, so there will be some hard decisions to make. We come from a long line of "Don't throw that out! Someone could use that!" It will be a challenge to overcome those voices....

But the time has come. Tomorrow I am heading to a place I never called home but where my mom lived for nineteen years. I will work with my brother and his family to sort, cull, re-home, and clean out what remains of 86 years of living. My hope is to stay present and attentive. If I do that, I will know what's right.