brsarah

My mother was the only one I would really show my poems to. I use to write a lot. Short stories, Long poems, even began a novel. My mother's opinion is what always mattered. I would write something, print it out and give it to her to read. My writing, the stories i told were always drawn from my life. Many of them included my mother and in many ways i think my writing validated her experiences. I am trying to write about my mother now. It flows like never before. It comes easy without pushing. It captures, my memories of my life with her. It captures her. I've found, in many ways, the writing is helping me deal with the grief, acknowledge it, hold it, place it in front of me and look deeply into it. While I'm writing i feel fully, the pain. Not sobbing, or screaming, but feeling the pain, the loss and then amazingly, somehow, I feel the life again. The life with my mother. Sounds wierd but it works for me. Below is a small piece of a book i'm writing about my experience losing my mom...However, what i would like to do is have my experience help another through their experience. That is my hope. This part is from a section called "the mirror"..When i first entered the ER to find my mother, I first saw her reflection in a small mirror and I stood and stared at her reflection..she looked in one word..despaired. It was the most painful day of my life. The hospital felt like a maze. The curtain which separated us from the ER could not block the business, the rumbling of the world. I think one of the most painful things about crisis is that your world stops as the hills start crumbling and the world outside continues. You hear talking, laughter, plans being made, lunches being heated in the microwaves, a nurse going to get dunkin donut coffee, a doctor laughing, gum snapping and it goes on and on and on and slowly, drastically, painfully our world screeched, echoed in our hearts to a complete stop, a stillness, a sort of floating in mid air, wondering, just how we will get our feet back on the ground with the others, with the rest of the businesss. ..........................Sarah

Lori If your losing it...then I'm losing it too. I too call my mother's voice mail at work;I call to listen to her voice. Her boss never erased it. I call at night, when I know noone is in her office. I call and listen to her voice and imagine..if just for a moment..her here in front of me. I email her and funny enough..the emails never bounce back. I google search her name. I try and will her to appear in my dreams. I am amazed at how vacant my life feels without her in it. You are not going crazy, its just part of grieving. It hurts horribly. My heart goes out to you..I know how you feel. Sarah

Hi Teri I understand where your coming from. The weeks following my mother's death were a daze. I received sympothy cards in the mail everyday, and like you, I would read through them, sometimes, most times, just plain numb. It takes time to start to "feel" everything. I had and still have days where the loss is too overwhelming to think about. I touch the loss, hesitantly, because I know that the pain, the depth of the pain is endless. I feel for you. There is no normal way to grieve. I was unprepared for grief. Have compassion for yourself. Sarah

Hi Teri I have had a lot of dreams of my mother since her passing in jan 2007. One i remember being angry at her and in another i found her legs in my dressor drawers (i know, sounds gruesome). In anther one;she was crying so hard because she felt unloved. I just wish i could have a peaceful dream or a visit from her in a dream;these dreams, i know, reflect my inner torment and guilt. When my grandmother passed, i had a very vivid and peaceful dream of her. Sarah

Two nights ago as I tried to fall asleep i suddenly smelled flowers in my room, strong smell of gardenias. I don't know how I know it was gardenias but i do. It spread over my face. I suddenly felt it was my mother. I accepted it as a sign from her and thanked her. It has been a year since she first went to the emergency room with a collapsed lung. Its as though I am reliving in small ways each step of her illness. I miss he so much.

So many times, I have been called home. Home to my mother. Wrapped in her arms. Where ever my mom was, there was home. Cabinets and carpets, stair cases and windows, the items of homes, houses and buildings, but my home was in the elements of my mother’s very presence, her arms, her heart, her soul. When I moved back in with her, I moved in with my cats, boxes, my books, my grown up attitude of “this is just temporary until I’m on my feet again”. I almost felt the universe pulling me back, telling me to slow down, be quiet and just be, right here, right now with your mother. This is time you will need. There were nights, when my desire to be free and separate and back with my husband was so strong that I could not tolerate sitting on the couch with my mother, watching television. So simple, she wanted to watch a show with someone, her daughter. But you see, I was busy, doing the things a thirty year old does. I was finishing grad school, I was buying a house, I was displaying my independence right there in front of my mom while in contrast being so dependent upon her. So many mornings while at my mother’s that year she would give me a pair of pants, a jacket, stockings stuff she felt or thought I would like. Depending on my mood, my ability to allow myself to accept her love, I might take it or reject it with a snotty, “I don’t need that”. These are the thoughts, the memorys that threaten my peace right now. My normal day to day slights towards my mother. Our relationship was at times a painful one. So full of love it could be come frightnening. Right befor my mom became ill-I moved back in with her for a year..while i finished grad school and transitioned to a new home in another state. At the time, it felt so...unusual. What I wouldn't do now to zoom back to that time and realize the gift I was given. Sarah

Thank you so much for your kind words-it really means the world to me right now-Sometimes i feel as though i have no other place to grieve but on this board, it truly is the only place i can let it flow and have it be heard...it is..in one word validating to have others listen. There are so many days when I just feel like saying to someone..."I just lost my mom and I am lost now". It is so painful to keep it in. I had a dream of her the other night. She was holding a lotto ticket and she had her glasses down her nose and she was smiling as she said "this is a good ticket". In the dream I remember just staring at her and filling up with tears. But the dream felt like I was with her. Anyhow, enough of my going on and on. THank you so much for being there. Hopefully, someday, in my more stronger days to come, I can give some comforting words to others on this board. Sarah

I've been having a tough time. I ache for my mom. I miss her with every fiber of my being. I've been waiting for a sign from her and I haven't got one. The mother's day stuff right now is just too much. sarah

My prayers and thoughts go out to you and your family-I am so sorry- sarah

I am so sorry... my prayers and thoughts are with you. sarah

I'm with you on that. My mom passed too at 58 y/o. I can't stand when people say things like "it was for the best"....the best of what? I truly think people do not understand unless they have lost somebody. It amazes me now to meet people who have not had a significant loss of a loved one in their life. Sarah

My mom always said the song "Sara" by Fleetwood Mac reminded her of me. Whenever I heard the song I would be instantly drawn back to childhood, on my tire swing in my backyard with my mom planting marigolds in her rock garden, Fleetwood Mac playing on the turn table from the living room window. The other day I heard the song, barely, through poor reception, on my car radio, 25 years later, I feel so old. The part that gets me the most is the line "When you build your house...I'll come by". I just moved into a new house when she became sick, She never did get to see it...I'm still waiting. Sarah

Hi Don My thoughts and prayers go out to you. You honored your wife by sharing her special day with family and memories. Sarah

Today I shut off my mother's cell phone. I've kept it on since she passed on January 2nd. I paid the bill each month she had it with her in the hosptial. It was the only thing left from her life before the illness. She had lost her apartment, her car, her career, clothes, her beloved cats (who are now with me) and life as she knew it. She looked at me one day and said "I need this phone, its my life-line" . With it she could call anyone, no restrictions. I felt proud of that. I kept it to hear her voice on the voicemail. The silence since she has passed as been very painful. I talk, and no response. I long to call her and for a moment when I would pick up the phone and call her cell phone, I could imagine her, her voice crisp and clear, almost as though she had every intention to get back to me. "mom, its me Sarah, give me a call, I love you" my standard message to her. Something so small like a cell phone, a voicemail, a connection to my mother. I miss her with every ounce of my being. After I had the service shut off-I called the phone one last time, her voicemail picked up and I left a message-I love you mom-. I called again and of course its shut off for good now. This grief stuff is no fun. Sarah

I am so sorry for your loss. Peace be with you and your family. Sarah