Mom saw this coming

My mom called herself an ostrich; she said she stuck her head in the sand at the first sign of trouble. In the months before she died, she expressed her fears about climate change and this election. I think she had an idea of how bad it was going to get, because she was intentional about her exit from this world.

She was done, so she allowed it when pneumonia took over.

I find myself grieving and mourning in fragments over different things; I feel overwhelmingly sad that she died alone, even though she was in her favorite place in her favorite chair. My niece made up her bed, because the unfinished business was disturbing. Before all this mom mourned the departure of her health, never quite right after COVD, her back causing her pain. When she came out to my car last December with a cane, my heart stopped. Mom was officially old, and the clock was ticking.

That’s the last time elder saw her, well, alive.

So I’m sitting here grieving a bit before getting down to business on my final projects for the semester. Part of me wonders what’s the point, and the other part of me tells me to get ready, there’s work to do.

Mom didn’t want to be here for it, but I am, and the only way is through.

Forty minutes

 It’s been a fraught little while.

There’s just a lot, lately. Today it all spilled over. As it will.

Elder’s been sick, and getting him the necessary care has been a little more complicated than it should have been. Nevertheless, he eventually got what he needed and is recovering.

We helped him with his medication and left for our respective destinations. He went back to sleep. I had left my personal phone in my purse while I attended a meeting. When I returned, it was time for elder to be at work.

Except…the usual notification from his service letting me know he was on his way was missing. I took my phone outside and started dialing. 

He usually picks up maybe the second or third go-round. Ten minutes had passed, and he still hadn’t picked up.

Trying to contain my mounting panic, I called hubby, who talked me off my ledge. Next I called his job and explained circumstances. His co-worker was calm and polite. Then I resumed dialing, alternating between his cell and our landline.

At some point the tears started again. What if he didn’t wake up? I kept dialing. Hanging up. Dialing. Hubby texted me he was headed home to check on him.

I finally gave up 40 minutes in. And less than a minute after my last attempt, elder finally returned my call.

I started sobbing all over again, this time with relief at hearing his voice. The irritation he had at being sick turned into concern. “Mom, I’m fine, I was just lying on my good ear.”

I called hubby back and told him he could go back to work; elder was up.

I pulled myself together and went back to my desk.

*******************

Coming home, tears welled up again. I remembered something I hadn’t thought about in decades. My dad was still alive, because we girls were still in the back bedroom. I was going through a cupboard in the basement, looking at Halloween costumes. For some reason, this was forbidden, because my younger sister saw what I was doing and said she was telling on me. 

I think I had been on a tear of bad behavior because getting told on AGAIN scared me enough to run up to my bedroom and hide under my bed. I heard my siblings running around looking for me, and at one point, feet passed inches from my face. I lay still, which was no mean feat for me. There was a toy under the bed; I played with it while I pondered whether or not I should come out from my hiding place. Eventually, I dozed off.

When I woke up, the shadows were long across the bedroom. It was quiet. I wondered where everyone went. I crawled out from under the bed and wandered through the house. I eventually found my mom in the basement, crouched low, looking through the cupboard that got me into trouble in the first place. I touched my mom’s shoulder. She spun around and grabbed me, sobbing, asking where I went.

I guess I felt a little like elder did earlier today.

I also felt relieved that I wasn’t going to get punished.

Lots of things running full circle.

Right Now is Good

 I’m painfully aware of the fact that nothing stays the same forever, but I just wanted to note for my own posterity that life was good. Right now, this moment in time, is a good one. I love my job and the people I work with; I love my class work and cohort and enjoy the process; I love my family, and that’s not news; I love my tribe, and that’s not news, either.

The fall colors are spectacular this year; I enjoy the companionship of my birds, and I love what I’m doing, all of it.

Grateful. Wouldn’t change a thing in this moment.

Adjusting my Sails

 So I am still hanging in there with the doctoral program; other things, not so much.

I’m running out of runway for the things that don’t choose me, so saying goodbye to that. 

And hello to challenges ahead.

My Why

I won’t lie: this doctoral thing is kicking my ass.

The 3-6 hours of work and reading is more like 15-20, and I don’t do anything nearly as quickly as I used to. Fortunately I have plenty of PTO left to flex around whatever I need to get done. Hubby has stepped in and is picking up my slack in an amazing way (the boys need to do better). The encouragement from, well, everyone, keeps me going.

Probably the single best thing about the huge demand this pursuit has on my time and attention is that I have much less time to fret about whatever Elder is or isn’t doing. And because I am (openly) fretting less, he’s more inclined to talk to me on our rides up and down 309.

So yesterday evening he asked why. Why am I knowingly torturing myself (if not his exact words, he’s got the spirit of it)? This after meeting someone from his past life, which summoned up all the memories of the single worst year of our lives (although he claims to have no memory of any of it—I know better).

I’m driving, signaling as I head to the off-ramp, tears streaming down my face. “I’ll tell you why. I want to burn shit to the ground for what happened to you. I’m channeling my divine rage so I can change the world.”

He sat there and blinked, nonplussed, my literal guy no doubt picturing me in war paint with a torch. “But what will you DO when you’re done?”

I shrugged. My whole life has been accidental and incidental; I just land wherever I need to be. What will I do, indeed?

“If I end up teaching, I can change minds,” I finally answered. “And if I can change minds, I can change futures.”

He was quiet. 

Later I listened him on a Zoom call with his classmates for a group project. His voice shook, but he assumed a leadership role, asking question, laying out responsibilities, and pretty much sounding like the rest of the group on the call.

I wonder how my words landed.

Maybe the mind shift begins at home.

The Work Never Ends

 So a month in to the doctoral program, there’s been no shortage of CTJ moments. My first presentation earned kudos, but I bankrupted my time allotment on it, so racing to catch up. Reading and connecting all the dots, I’m reminded again of my why, always present here at home, and all the required reading confirms everything in my current situation.

I don’t know if I will make it through, but I will show up and do the work and hope for the best.

I’m happy for the volume of work in a way because it’s a distraction from the sometimes overwhelming sadness I am feeling. The school bus no longer comes for us. I should be overjoyed. Instead the world seems to be folding in on itself into an increasingly smaller space for my boys.

I need to finish this assignment.

I need to finish this degree.

I need to disrupt this whole system.

This is the only place I know where to start.

Like a Boss

 It’s been a minute.

We’ve managed to get both guys registered for classes; the three of us are ready to press play in 9 days.

While my work wife is out of the country, I managed to keep both her and my plates spinning with nary a hiccup, although there were plenty of moments where I wanted to hide sobbing under my desk. (I didn’t)

Instead, I found myself as I increasingly find myself; in command, in charge, and not afraid to call the plays that need calling.

It was with enormous relief and gratitude and gratification that I snapped my laptop shut, changed gears, and downshifted into chill.

Finding grace in the spaces and solace in nature and the night air.