Remembering

I haven’t been very good lately about keeping up with these blogs.  Probably because it is getting close to the holidays, and I begin remembering long ago losses.  For many people, sadness abounds amid the supposed joy of the holiday season.  Losses become more poignant, more easily recognized each year as the “season” builds after Thanksgiving.  No, I don’t become clinically depressed, but I remember, and miss those people and those things that are no longer here.

My mother died early morning on December 3, 1964, in a hospital, alone.  That’s 46 years ago, but I still remember the phone ringing at 6:30 am, hearing my Dad begin to cry, coming to wake me up (I was already awake of course), and us falling apart for a while.  That was the last time I cried for a very long time.  I sucked it in, and didn’t let anything loose – I still don’t cry easily, but when I do let go I cry for so many things.  My father’s birthday was only a few days later – happy birthday Dad, want to plan a funeral?  What an awful time.  Less than two weeks later I answered the phone on a late Thursday afternoon, before my father was home from work, and was told that my grandmother had died suddenly at her “old folks” home.  She was walking down a hall, fell over, and was dead.  I couldn’t deal with it – I wrote a note for my father, and drove to my friend’s house.  He wasn’t very happy to find out about her death that way, but then neither was I.  Another funeral to plan and attend.  My last in a very very long time.  I was still sucking it in, couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t do anything but lean on my best friend.  I was falling apart inside and no one could see (they were hurting too much too) – just the stoic exterior, “she’s doing so well” etc., etc.  24+ years later, with the help of several great counselors, I finally dealt with those losses.  What else did we lose?  The extended family holiday celebrations.  In less than a year, we moved 600 miles away – away from my best friend, my then boy friend (which, in hindsight, was probably a good thing), and our extended family.  We drove back for the holidays, but it wasn’t the same, staying at my Aunt’s house.  Couldn’t get away from the chaos, the fake happiness.  Then when my father remarried, there was no way I wanted to be there.  So, I would be alone for the holidays, now 2000 miles away.  But then healing, and my own family, and my own traditions were able to supplant much of the sadness, and remember again with fondness.

Other remembering….  My mother was never told about her cancer.  They didn’t do that then – worried that the patient would “give up” and just die.  So what?  She was dying anyway.  Now they know better.  But back then, my mother’s doctor told my father - he kept it all inside except for other “adults” in his family who also were sworn to secrecy.  I remember being home with a bad cold one day, my propped up in my father’s twin bed, next to my mother propped up in her twin bed, and she said “I couldn’t have cancer, your father couldn’t keep something that serious from me.”  The final secret, and a huge one, in an otherwise very good marriage.  My mother felt that something was being kept from her, and the closeness that could have come from that sharing was taken from them by the secrecy.  But, that was how they did it then.  I hope no one still thinks that is ok anymore, (although 20 years ago my ex-father-in-law’s family did the same thing to him – how appalling!!)   

More remembering….  My son climbing into the sofa bed with my ex-mother-in-law very early each Christmas morning, and the non-stop whispering and giggling until we finally got up.  His bouncing around in his pajamas as he discovered the bicycle, or the keyboard, or one of the other special gifts he received over the years.  How much we missed, but with fondness and fun stories, his grandma for the holidays after she passed away in 1993.  How much we missed him for the holidays when he was overseas in the Peace Corps.  And now he has is own family, and they will be down here for Christmas.  Creating new memories to write about in future years.