Category: Thoughts

On Loss: An Open Letter to My Mother

On Loss: An Open Letter to My Mother

by cindereulla ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Originally posted by this author to https://eusocrimsonthread.wixsite.com/crimson 

Mom,


        I thought I knew loss. I thought my divorces had made me tough. I really thought losing you would have prepared me for anything. I thought having to call 911 when we found you would have made me immune to anything. I thought having to raise my little brother and sister and caring for my elderly father when you left would have prepared me for anything. I was wrong. I thought enough time had passed. It’s been years now. Then 2020 happened, a year where I really needed a mother to turn to. My husband was amazing through everything, and frankly, still in the thick of it, is my rock. But there are times, no matter the wonderful people in your life, you just want your Mom. I thought I was on the easy side of mourning you. I was wrong.
        March 30, 2020. That’s when everything changed. That the last day before I had to wear a N95 every hour of the day of every one of my shifts. The biggest problem was my asthma and heart condition where my heart rate skyrocketed with the smallest of challenges. In nearly 15 years of nursing, I never knew this was an issue. In years past, if we had a patient that required we wear a N95, tuberculosis for example, we put the mask on, went in and cared for them, came out and threw it away. Not now. Now, 21 days. That is how long my mask had last. 21 days. They wanted to send me to the ICU, but they could not accommodate the breathing breaks I needed from the mask. I desperately wanted to go and help. I wanted to do my part. I felt like a draft dodger. I longed to sit with you and lament the situation, but you were not there.

        Instead, I was sent to assist with symptom tracking. They needed nurses to check on COVID patients that had contracted the disease. I called them daily and checked on their symptoms. Many traversed the rocky waters of COVID well enough. Others, however, did not. Many of those calls haunt me. It is likely I may have been the last person to hear some of their voices. That sits heavy in a heart. You would have known what to say to comfort me. I’ve lost patients before. I’ve witnessed tragic situations. This was different. There were mobile morgues.

        It was so hard to keep Dad home and safe. He is 81 now. His main social interaction, after you left, was going out to eat. He ended up lonely at home, staring at all the things that reminded him of you. We tried everything to keep him home. We would deliver meals and groceries. We got him an iPhone so he could FaceTime family. It helped a bit. Then his brother got COVID. My uncle. He died a few days after being admitted. I hated that you were not here. He needed you. I was angry, and I could not tell you any of this. You were not here while I was agonizing over how to get groceries for him when everyone was hoarding supplies. You were not here while I was spending hours in the car going from store to store trying to find distilled water for his sleep apnea machine and could not find any because all the stores were out. You were not here when my husband’s family lost their own family members to COVID. You would have comforted him. You would have loved him so much, and I hate that you never met him.
        I wanted to tell you all of this. I was mourning you all over again. All of these challenges stockpiled into one year, and all I wanted was to talk to you and I couldn’t. I thought I was on the easy side of mourning you. Turns out, you never really stop mourning someone. There are just times you miss them more than others.
        We have moved in with Dad to take better care of him. He is less lonely now. We are all vaccinated now, so the world is just a little less scary. My husband and I are going to school full time because, apparently, pandemic is not hard enough and we are gluttons for punishment. Dad will not say it, but I know he likes our dogs. You would have loved them. You would have loved my husband for how he loves my dad and takes care of him. You would have loved my husband for how he loves me. I think you would like the person I turned into. I think we would be better friends now than when I was in my twenties. I wish you could have known me now. I think you would be proud. I think you would be happy.
        I miss you more than ever. I wish I had done more for you. I wish I had more closure, and I do not wish this hurt on anyone. Of all the unimaginable hardships that we faced in 2020, and continue to face, mourning you all over again was the hardest. I needed an adult, and when I looked for one, you were not there.

On memories of the House That Built Me…

On memories of the House That Built Me…

by cindereulla ♥ 2 Comments

home

A few days ago, I found an old bottle of my dead mother’s perfume. It was one of those vintage types, with the stopper in the top. The kind that you would just dab on your neck or behind your ear.

I opened it, and brought it up to my nose.

I breathed in.

For the first time in nearly 8 years, I was smelling my mother. She was there. Her scent enveloped me, and it was more than I could bare. My heart stopped, and I choked on the raw emotion of it. The bizarre juxtaposition of her unanticipated presence, and jarring reminder of her very real absence.

~

“I know they say you can’t go home again, I just had to come back one last time. Ma’am I know you don’t know me from Adam, but these handprints on the front steps are mine.”

~

That night I dreamt.

I dreamt of my childhood home.

It was one of those surreal dreams that are unnerving in their vividness.

I stood on the concrete porch. My dad had laid it. My name remained carved into it where I had drawn it with a twig. Right next to it were my tiny hand prints.

I looked up at the front door. It still had the stained glass window, at the top, that my mother and father had created. The landscape that she had painted on the adjacent wall was there, though faded by the Sun and time. My mind had accounted for time. I suppose that must have mattered to my subconscious, for some reason.

I could see the pommagranet tree that my father had planted, so many years ago. My mother’s favourite cat, Sasha, was buried under it. She was part Siamese, and had the silliest meow. We had to put Sasha to sleep after she developed breast cancer.  It was the kind thing to do, but my mother wept for days. It was my first lesson in not being able to console someone.

~

“Up those stairs in that little back bedroom, is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar.  I bet you didn’t know under that live oak, my favorite dog is buried in the yard.”

~

Inside were the built-in bookshelves that my mother had designed, and my father had built. They stood there, imposing as ever. Floor to ceiling, and solid wood. My father was a skilled carpenter. I appreciate that much more now than I did then.

~

“I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here it’s like I’m someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself. If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave. Won’t take nothing but a memory, from the house that built me. You leave home and you move on and you do the best you can, I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am.”

~

I woke up confused about where I was. I struggled to get my bearings. I felt cold, and alone for a moment.

Mom’s gone.

The house is gone.

For a long time, I thought I was too.

But then I looked over, and saw my husband asleep. He is proof of my new life, and the new home I am building.

I smiled.

(Lyrics belong to “The House that Built Me: by Miranda Lambert”)

 

On missing something you never had…

On missing something you never had…

by cindereulla ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

cute-baby-shoes-dress-carpet-photography-hd-wallpaper-694x417I planned you. Oh, how I planned you. I dreamt about you everyday, for years. Your little face plastered the walls of my mind. You would have your father’s smile and my eyes, and eyelashes for days.

In my mind, I would hold you tight to me, and you would bury your face in the crook of my neck. I would kiss the top of your head. I imagined every facet of your personality and life. Your laugh filled my dreams.

Every month, I would dream and hope and pray. Every month I would wait. Wait for what I longed for. Some sign that I might meet you someday soon. My little love.

Then every month my body would say, “No, dear. Not just yet.” I would grieve. Oh, how I would grieve. My heart would break in a way I didn’t yet know it could. I thought I had known heartache until then, until I longed for you.

But then I learned a new grief. It’s happened three times now. My body ached and the pain mirrored the grief in my heart, and I knew you had almost made it. I had, for just a moment, had that glimmer of hope. Then you were gone. My little love, and it felt as if my heart had left with you.

My precious darling. Everyday my thoughts wander to you and I pray that I will see you soon. Some sweet day, my sweet love.

On days…

On days…

by cindereulla ♥ 2 Comments

grief

There are some days that are just so damn hard. Days that I miss my mother. Days that I am so angry about our relationship and how damaged and broken I will always be because of it. Days I’m so angry at my first husband for his choices. Days I am so angry at my second husband for being so careless with my heart. Days I grieve over my missed pregnancies. Days I hate myself for being thirty and having two ex husbands. Days I hate myself for getting married to get away from my mother. Days I’m so angry she died the way she did and left me to raise my little brother and sister and care for my elderly father. Days I am so resentful. Days I’m terrified that even though I and got good grades and didn’t do drugs and didn’t get pregnant young I won’t have a happy ending and I’ll always be alone. Days I’m angry that I’ve let myself become what I am. Days I feel so damn alone. Days I just don’t want to live, days I want to crawl into bed and never crawl out. But then there are days that are better but you never know which one it’s gonna be. So you lay in bed in the morning and try to gather the strength just to get up because what if it’s not one of the good days. What if it’s one of the shitty days? And that’s it. That’s my life.
 

On time…

On time…

by cindereulla ♥ 1 Comment

 

Time is cruel. Time steals away moments quietly and without notice. It sneaks in silently and slowly snuffs out the life of a moment and as you watch the fading light drift away from existence, you realize that it will never be the same again. Your heart breaks. It crumbles and you panic and try to collect the pieces so you can put it back together, but you know you will never be able to seamlessly repair it. It will never look the same. It will never function the same. It will never love the same way, ever again. You realize, as the embers fade and cease to glow, that reality as you know it is now forever changed. Your heart is so damaged, its unrecognizable. Foreign.
But time can also be kind. It can work tirelessly and discretely as it lays the foundation and the framework for what will someday be a brand new adventure. It can heal wounds in a way that no other remedy can. The scars remain but they give the roots of hope something to anchor onto and grow. It can feed it and create a dream that would have never grown in any other foundation.
Time can break you, it can burn you, but it can also heal you.

On one last time…

On one last time…

by cindereulla ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Image

“When the night has come and the land is dark and the moon is the only light we’ll see.”

This night, this last night. They both were trying their best to memorize every moment. They had had a last night before, but like most last nights, it was wasted. Like most last anything, they didn’t know just what it was, and like most lasts they let it slip through their hands. Unnoticed. Unappreciated. It was not until long after the moment had past, that either of them realized just what had gone. It was not until after that their mind’s eye had tried to reclaim it. Tonight though, the fates had been kind. The fates had decided to give them one more last and they knew it. They knew exactly what this was and they were going to treasure every moment. Tonight they would dance and love and laugh and hold and kiss with the moon as their spotlight and the summer night as their stage.

“No I won’t be afraid, no I won’t be afraid. Just as long as you stand, stand by me.”

They also knew what was to come. All of the lonely nights, all of the days not lived. All of the dreams not had, and all of the never mores and never wouldbe’s. They knew because they already had endured all the lasts and because of that there was an unspoken agreement that there was just now. No tomorrow. No what if. Just now. Because if they gave into the what if’s, the maybes this would be gone. They would be ripped from this gift.

“If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall and the mountains should crumble to the sea…”

Nothing mattered, but this. This moment. This gift. Nothing mattered but this last time they would ever feel their skin against one another’s. The world could end around them and nothing, not one thing could tear their eyes from one another’s or their hands away.

“ I won’t cry, I won’t cry, no I won’t shed a tear. Just as long as you stand, stand by me.”