Stillness

Stillness. It is in the moments of stillness that it hurts the most. My mother’s death plagues me in the stillness of the night and day. No way to escape it. Stillness equals hurt.

Today the tears fell often, but not as hard. There were moments of numbness where I don’t even think I was crying, thinking…or breathing. Just physically taking up space, nothing more, nothing less.

When I close my eyes I see her…dying. When I close my eyes I see her…in the coffin. When I close my eyes I see her…laughing, smiling and loving me. When I open my eyes I don’t see her at all. I don’t want my eyes open ever again.

I am sure that to some this grief seems bizarre, not understandable, and strange. She was my mom, my best-friend, my partner in the world of theatre – I directed, she designed costumes. She was my cheerleader. She was my biggest supporter. She was my biggest fan. She was smart, witty and funny. She had great ideas and inspired me everyday. She and I connected. She and I understood each other fully. She and I depended on each other, counted on each other. She and I still had many great things to do. Not any more. She is gone and I am left in the aftermath of “moving on”. I don’t care who a person loses…a loss is a loss. If you loved them deeply, be it a parent, a child, a sibling, a spouse…the loss is deep, profound and scarring. I am scarred. They say when you lose a parent, you lose your past. Truth. The stories that I know of my youth are all that I have. The one person who was there for all of it is now gone. I am left with gaps and voids. I am the oldest child. I will be able to help my brother and sister some. But there is no one to help me. I feel basically orphaned even though my dad lives. Disconnected. Father and son are not same as mother and son.

I look at photos but it is hard. What I have is what I have. There will never again be new ones. When someone hates having their picture taken, they don’t leave many photos behind.

My mom’s obituary ran in the newspaper today. No photo was printed even though it was sent. I immediately thought it was my mom’s doing. She hated her picture being taken. She would have hated it to be in the paper. I could see her doing this from the other side. Well, I want to have it re-run with the picture this time…and I will. There were two mistakes in her memorial card. A sign from her. Two mistakes that also were inside jokes that no one else knew about. My mom is here. She is leaving signs for us.

Two random thoughts today…

1. What happened to the clothes my mom died in? I called the funeral home even though it was after hours. Spoke to the on-call funeral director. He was the one who removed my mom’s body from the house. He wasn’t sure what happened to her clothes. He thought they might have buried with her. They will get back to me on Monday when he talks to Trent, the director of my mom’s funeral. Monday is a long time to wait when you need to know.

2. What happened to my baby book? More of my past possibly gone for good. No one to ask for help on this one. The one person who knew where it was is now gone. I should have asked when I had the chance.

Last night after the funeral we went to the Old Bank Restaurant in Pierz. My mom’s favorite restaurant. First we had to go the cemetery in Pierz, where my grandparents are buried along with my great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents. Or something like that. I tried to pay attention, but really couldn’t. A few hours earlier I was in a different cemetery burying my mother. I had my fill of cemeteries for one day. Some people love to go to cemeteries I guess. I am not one of them. I will go to my mom’s and my grandparents. That is it. Some of my extended family love to visit graves. Night and day, me and them. At my grandparents grave I imagined my mom with her parents. Finally the reunion she had been waiting, longing for. 20 years in the making. Welcome home…finally.

It was too much sitting in the restaurant. It made me miss her even more. I only ever went there with her. Now I felt that I was replacing her by being there with someone else. Betraying her memory. This is something her and I did. Sometimes she and I went with my brother, my sister and her husband and their precious baby. The baby my mom loved so very dearly. The same baby that while I was holding her at the wake on Thursday night reached over to my mom in her coffin and made the gesture with her hand that means she wants you to hold her. My heart ripped out and tore into a million pieces. Another moment I will never forget. Isn’t there a limit on your brain as to how much you will never forget?

As it all overwhelmed me I called a friend I have known for over 15 years. A friend that I served time with in the trenches of theatre hell. Now those are true friendships. If a friendship survives theatre, it is carved in stone. Baptism by fire. Theatre is a strange, messed up little land filled with strange, messed up people. To find a sane one is rare. I called her because she knew my mom and loved her. We talked, I cried. Seems that all I do is cry. She said that I will carry on. She doesn’t know how I will do it, but she knows I will. I agree. I know that I have a lot to accomplish yet and things to do. Dreams to realize. I will do it because it is what my mom would want for me. The best way to honor my mom is to have my aspirations, goals and dreams come true. I just don’t know how to do it. I don’t even know how I am going to face tomorrow, much less years down the road. A lonely road to travel.

On the phone tonight, reconnecting with an old friend from high school. She lost her brother, now I lost my mother. She understands my loss and now I understand her’s. There is a club of sorts. Those who have lost a deeply loved one and those who have not. Up until 10:20 AM on Sunday, April 17, 2005 I was not a member. Now I have a membership card and dues to pay. Dues are paid in the currency of sorrow and grief. You do not want to join this club. I do not want to renew this membership ever again.

This morning my sister asked if I had any jeans that needed to be washed. I did. I went and got them and brought them into the laundry room. As I put my jeans in the washer I realized that I will never hear my mom say that she loves me ever again. I lost it. Crying so hard I could hardly see. Back to my makeshift bedroom in my sister’s basement. I glanced at the clock, trying to distract myself so I could get a grip and stop crying. 10:20 AM. The clock said 10:20 AM. I will forever be haunted by 10:20 AM.

My brother, basically still a kid at 23, said that he had a nightmare where my mom got out of the coffin and wanted to go get something to eat with him. She was tired of being at the funeral chapel and was very hungry. She told him “come on Jeremy, get me out of her and let’s get something to eat.” When he told my sister and me of his nightmare I was beyond horrified. It replays in my head like a broken record. How do I help him? How do I help my sister? I can hardly help myself.

Someone recently told me that I will never get over this loss. Finally the truth. And once you know the truth, you can start to accept it.