Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Stories

 I want you to see these words before you read mine...)

This is my story: I keep seeing my Mother's eyes. They are green and soft and it has become harder for her to keep them open. She looks at me and thanks me for being such a good daughter and occasionally  she says 'good sister' by mistake and I chide her that she'd best remember ME and then we laugh together. I can't say for sure that my Mother is slipping away and if I asked her she would say no. But I have become prepared for that possibility and I've found that the deepest kindest part of me is present with her in that small room of hers. I am pleasantly thrilled and also reassured that I know how to act in the presence of love when time may be short. There was a time a few years ago when  the love I felt for someone blew up and  flew wild and became sharp bitter pieces beyond hope or restoration. I don't think I will let that happen again in my life. It's not because I will hold back love, but because I know about good grief and necessary goodbyes and I know better how to live through that. I realized this week that I have finally, and I emphasize finally, learned how to stop my ever conscious emotions from overflow. Am I heartbroken that my Mother's body may soon carry her to another home? Yes, I am heartbroken. But not so much that I am not able, so willingly, to sit with her and be astonished by how absolutely and incredibly precious a human being she is. And by example, it seems, I too.

I would like to hear your story. Not about Mothers or love or heartbreak unless that is the story you want to tell, but about anything that moves you to appreciate your deepest truest self. Do you mind? Will you tell me?

love
kj

30 comments:

  1. I am deeply moved by what YOU have written here KJ. I'll have to think a while about "my story"...and can't promise I will have anything to tell you...but let me first sit with what you have witten and feel it...and things, experiences it reminds me of...and appreciate what you are doing and experiencing with YOUR mother right now. Thank you for sharing these experiences with us.

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    1. Thank you so much, Lynn. Maybe it's the writer in me, but 'this' story is a snippet of an important time. Someone else's story might be about the pushy ants in the picnic box on an August day in Maine

      Xoxo lynn

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  2. PS When I want to enlarge a photo here I click on the photo on the blog post page and blue words come up giving me options to enlarge it. I choose X-Large on my page. Hope this helps.

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    1. It's a new layout for me, not what I'm use to. Thanks for the easy peasy solution

      But Grrrrrr blogger anyway

      :-)

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  3. The story of self appreciation is still being written because every time I get to the point where I can honestly say I am very good doing this or that it seems as if I get taken out and have to remake myself.

    I come from a family full of initials after their names, you know PhD. or MS this or that while I wasn't even around to receive my HS diploma, life was waiting and I didn't keep it in such a sorry state for long.

    No one single event or tragedy or comedy gave me my peace of mind but everything, all of the good (which was very good) the bad, which was very bad-sometimes to the bone) and the ugly (still a daily sight)am I able to identify as that particular AHA moment.

    Was it learning to fight back?
    Enlisting at 17?
    Becoming a Road Dog at 21?
    Getting married, having two kids and then being left behind at 29?
    Finding a woman who could put up with my 17 year run of alcoholism and stay with me for almost 30 years now?
    Was it being my grandmother and mother's child rather than my fathers?
    Was it continuously taking that dare and breaking another bone?

    Or did everything just go into the pot and what you see today is what I am today because of the long cook time?

    *shrug* I have a story but it isn't anywhere near finished yet, ask me after the last page is written to tell it.

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    1. Mark, I had a lengthy run of alcoholism too...

      May I suggest that you post this on your own blog too? I am not selfish about the gift of your friendship: it's meant so much to me to know these 'facts' about you that I know everyone else who calls you friend or is inspired or shaken by your gutsy grit would love to read this too

      Love grows, mark. We are a good example.

      Thanks a million,

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  4. I'll have to think about it also...but agree that sitting by a dying loved ones bedside is an honor and brings out unknown strength.

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    1. Mim, yes.....

      I think at least some of your stories come while swaying in a canoe...

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  5. This is beautiful in a bittersweet way. I love what Walking Man had to say and how he said it. I'll come back with my story later, most of which I think you know. I'll have to see what moves me to my truest, deeper self.

    You can edit this post and that wonderful quote.
    Do what Lynn said. Click on the photo in the posting format and choose large or x-large. Then hit publish again.

    I'll call you later.

    Love you,
    Lo♥

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    1. Lo, I know so many moments we have shared but not one word of A moment that is your story at this time, this place

      One story from our ptown trip with Debra Kay--what would it be? Would it be my hilarious book reading? Or the bar at the news when little Mim drank with us? Or the way the sun set into a pink sky?

      Love, always, lo

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    2. Ah spellcheck ! I mean the Mews, not the news

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  6. beautiful words about your dear Mom. How lucky she is that you have the time and desire to sit by her side. sending prayers.

    my story? not sure what i would say. Maybe just life in all its ups and downs and ins and outs. life moves me to my truest self.

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    1. Suki, thank you. I know your story is rich in color and texture, through your hands and words. You are most talented. And you more than most can show one moment in time in full rapshody xoxo

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  7. Beautiful. I hope your mom rebounds, but if she does not I know you can handle it with grace. Giant hugs.
    My story is long and not so pretty until later in life like now.
    But the fact that my childhood was terrifying has made me strong and I learned solitude which has served me ever so well. Now my story is about spirit and art and love, so my story will end well :-).

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    1. Thank you Annie. Grace is a favorite word of mine and I appreciate that you've assigned it to me

      And your word once upon a time: terrifying.

      And now: spirit, art, love.

      How utterly awesome!

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  8. Ah, KJ....YOU know my story all too well - so I won't repeat it here. Love and Loss - in all forms - is the most difficult part of Life...

    You have grown in strength so much .....you have.

    Check your e-mails....


    I am sending Love and Strength to you and to your beautiful Mum...

    Kisses to both.

    Always,

    ♥ Robin ♥

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    1. I know one of your stories, robin: cupcake batter flying through the kitchen air, laughter unable to be contained. It is my story too :-)

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  9. I will but have to think first.
    For now warm hugs!
    and love
    M

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    1. Warm hugs to you too, Marianne

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  10. "It's not because I will hold back love, but because I know about good grief and necessary goodbyes and I know better how to live through that."

    I don't think you realise how much you have managed to convey in this single sentence KJ. Strength and grace just shines through your words. It's not an easy time KJ and you are still very much in my thoughts and prayers. You and your mom. In fact your whole family.

    I will think on this story bizzo. In the meantime I am so glad that you know you are precious. That is really something worth knowing in your heart of hearts. Much love xx Jos

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    1. Jos, you're keeping an eye on me, aren't you? I know you are, and I love and thank you for it.

      Please let me do the same for you anytime anywhere

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  11. I love that story - and I love moments like that when we get a glimpse at how precious we all really are.

    My story at this moment is so fascinating to me. As I get to be of an age when I remember my parents being that same age, back then I thought that they should have figured everything out, know how to be good parents, healthy beings. Now, I realize that they were just human beings trying to figure out life and trying to be parents with all the burdens they carried, with their childhood wounds, and their insecurities. They were clueless and trying to hold it all together.

    That makes me realize that that's what we all try to do. Figure out how to be, how to live and how to find and define our role and place. Some do it more gracefully than others and some are ruled by their fears and either go hide or lash out. I think what is happening is that I am developing a deep kindness toward myself, which allows me to see my humanness and that again allows me to see that in everyone else. Not sure if that makes sense...

    So grateful for you!! Love, Silke

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    1. Silke, this woman came to my house one day to to do a real estate appraisal. One side of her face was paralyzed and she wore ths floppy hat. She told me, for no reason, that every day she knew less, not more.

      I thought of her when I read your comment. Compassion, silke. That is what I think you understand and are saying.

      You make perfect sense. Thank you
      xoxo

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  12. your statement about sitting with someone who is ill and being astonished by their incredibly precious humanness.......oh yes. this touches a deep vein in me now.

    this is a sacred act, kj, and a sacred time for you and your dear mother. i wish you both many opportunities to continue to share in this way.

    with love,

    amanda

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    1. Ah Amanda, we love sacredly, don't we? I will tell you about my Father. It is a special club, we who have lost our parents. The line is thin. I do know that. I have been thinking of you, Amanda. And yes: be astonished by how deeply you love. I am not surprised one bit

      Xoxo

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  13. Awwww kj,,,,I often wonder who is the blesser and who is the bless-ee when reading your posts.

    I, like everyone else, contain many stories. But my "deepest, truest self"? I just don't know what that would be.

    What I do know is that you are so fortunate to be near your Mom at this time. I was the one who 'lived away' and couldn't sit with her like I'd loved to.Like I needed to. Not only for her, but for me also.
    I was there the weekend before she passed on Monday. She was completely non responsive, and had been for several days. As The Sisters and I were all gathered in her room, quietly visiting, out of the blue she became agitated and called my name.I took her hands and held them and she quieted. I know she knew I was there, and had waited for me. How this might or might not have affected my deepest, truest self, I don't know, but it's what I wanted to tell you, as it meant the entire world to me.

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    1. Oh babs...you live in my heart. What you share here I am so honored to know. I understand and you understand and anyone who has prepared to say goodbye understands. Thank you, my friend. Thank you so much. You ARE your deepest truest self .you are too real to be anything but

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  14. I pulled this up when I first read it and then didn't have time to write an answer, so I've come back. When was visiting my son at school yesterday, he was showing me around the campus and suggesting a restaurant he'd heard about and talking openly about his relationships and sex. He told me that his girlfriend, who I'd hoped to meet, had been picked up by her father to go home for the weekend because she's sick. I said that was good, she could sit on the couch and watch TV while someone her parents brought her food. He laughed and said he didn't think she had that kind of parents. I said, "Oh, then I wish she could have come home with me - I'd bring her something to eat while she sat on the couch and watched TV." He looked at me with his big liquid eyes and said, "Awww... I know you would." I make a LOT of mistakes and I feel like I am forever shaking my head at my own foolishness, but I know my kids know they are loved. That one thing I feel sure I did right.

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  15. Cs, I had to acknowledge this story. It is a classic on tenderness and you've told it so poignantly. Oh that son of yours

    I remember my care when I was sick too. Never to be forgotten, which I think is your point

    Xoxo my friend
    kj

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