Missing Mom

I am trying not to think about how I won't hear from my mother on my birthday this year and I am not being very successful.

I have stubbornly fought the gray, sad this week but right now, alone at home while in between doctor appointments, I can cry a little.

Two weeks ago the second anniversary of her death passed with little fanfare.

Part of me feels a little offended that there is no national holiday or parades with floats that support the Let's Eradicate Dumb, Stupid Gall Bladder Cancer Association. 

Most of me wants to be at the beach listening to the waves whisper and the birds answer.

When I get a little richer I will make a pilgrimage each year to her favorite beach. I will sit alone on the sand and look for the dolphins that often play there. I will dig in the sand underneath the shells and flip them over with my big toe. Like she taught me.

I will watch each wave and remember that life goes on just like they do and I will cry a little and feel God's perfect peace.

My birthday will forever be missing something. The tabernacle choir that called me each year on Cinco de Mayo will never be the same and while I don't feel much like celebrating a friend reminded me that Mom loved my birthday so I plan to pull up my big girl britches and have a great day with most of the people I love the best. 

I do not write about sad times or scary times for sympathy or attention.

I write about them for me.

I really despise the kid glove treatment and have an almost uncontrollable urge to throw something pointy at well intentioned people who tiptoe around me.

I much prefer some inappropriate humor or the way my boss-friend punches me in the shoulder and says-It'll be okay. Except the sore shoulder part. She hits hard!

I like how my gang knows to say things like-
I think you are sad and having a hard time. Do you want to talk about it or would you rather hit Mrs. Fabulous?

I don't know why she always flinches when they say that.

Just sayin'..................................

Uncle Fermor

On April 6, 2012
my father's beloved older brother
Fermor Robinson Hargrove, Jr.
slipped away from this earth and flew
to heaven where he joined his sweet wife Mattie Beall, his baby boy Robbie and his daughter Sue.

Uncle Fermor was one of those people that others loved to be around. No one is happy all the time but I cannot recall a time when I saw my Uncle frown.

He wore a string tie everyday, drove up until a few months ago
and had an amazing memory. In fact, he had a better memory
than most people I know!  

While Uncle Fermor certainly had his share of life's tragedies
you were guaranteed a smile and a hug anytime you were in his
presence.

He buried a baby boy and a daughter.
Both taken suddenly and far, far too soon.
He also buried a wife he loved very much.

In the eulogy my daddy gave this afternoon he said that
he had seen his brother beat up by life a few times but
he had never ever seen him bitter.

That is a trait we should all aspire to emulate.
This afternoon my daddy stood in one of many pulpits
he has stood in and spoke as he has so many times before.
We southerners call it preaching a funeral.

This must have been one of the hardest funerals he has
taken part in but he paid great homage to his brother.

I know that all of my daddy's children were proud of the
strength and courage he exhibited today.

Daddy spoke of love and loss and hope.
He spoke of the peace and the eternal life we
are promised.

He spoke of the love and friendship
shared by two brothers.

He spoke of a man who will be missed by so many.


Just sayin'......................

About the Dream I Dreamed Last Night

Last week a student asked me if I had a mama.

Yes, I do, I answered. But she lives in heaven now.

Oh, and you're sad?

Yeah. When I miss her, I'm sad.

Oh, she said.

And when she leaned her head against mine
it was as soothing as cool water on a burn.

We stayed that way, her head against mine and her little
hands patting my back in silent sympathy until
she darted off to finish an activity.

I think my mom sent her to love on me.

I dreamt of my mother last night.
She came to me in my dream but I left
before finding out why she was there.

She walked in as I was changing clothes
in a room that was dim and crowded.

I was glad to see her but admonished her
for carrying a heavy laundry basket.

Mama, give me that, I ordered. You know
I dont want you carrying anything that heavy.
Sit here. How are you? I asked.

I'm okay, she answered.
But her voice was tired and in my dream
I was worried.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

Then I woke.
Gasping. Sweating.
Immediately sorry.
Sorry for leaving
my dream too soon

I miss her so.
I am still not ready to be a child without a mama.
Sort of a half orphan.

With her, I could be a child again if I needed to.

Her child.

She would listen to me alot, advise me just a little 
and then she would pat me on the butt
and send me back out into the world again
a little stronger.

That's what mamas do, you see.
They help us grow up.

Sometimes with kind words.
Sometimes with a swat on our rear ends.
But in their hearts
we remain their babies.

I just miss being her baby.


Just sayin'...............................

Just To Hear Her Voice

I have tried to avoid writing
yet another sad post.

I don't want to make
my family feel
sad.

Today though,
I am afraid
if I don't write it
the tears won't
stop.

Again today,
I reached for
the phone that
lay on the seat next
to me.

My hand hovered just above
before I remembered....

I detest that moment....
when I remember
she isn't there.

I call anyway sometimes.
Just to hear her voice.

You've reached the Hargrove residence......

If I close my eyes
and quiet my soul

I can still hear her voice.

I hear it say, "My precious angel".

You are never done with
the ones you love.

Time moves too
quickly.

No matter how
I cursed it.

No matter
how many
hours
I sat,
awake,
on watch,
time, like ocean waves,
crashed and tumbled on.

I breathed when she
breathed.

And when she stopped
My heart broke.

She wasn't perfect.

But she was mine.

And I still miss her.

I wasn't done yet.


Just sayin'.................

I just can't pretend that today isn't a sad day for me.

My heart's desire was to be somewhere else today.

A place we both loved.

A place where waves roll in time to the beat of

my heart and the sand waits to catch the tears.

A place made of salt, sand, breezes and

the occasional dolphin dancing in the water.

A place where storms are as welcome as the sun.

Maybe even more so.

A place where seashells and smiles live.

Where family became family again.

Where food tasted better and had no calories.

I think it would have been easier there.

The infuriating thing about grief is that I am unable

to schedule it's attacks on my composure.

When I most want to cry...

to release some pent up

sorrow and anger...

stubborn tears refuse to come.

Other times when all I want to do is

get through.....

Survive it all

without a scene

the tears fall effortlessly and uncontrollably.

One short, endless, year ago today,

I held her hand for the last time

as her soul took flight.

It was at once the most painful

moment of my life and the most

joyful.

Not good-bye.

Just.....

See you later, Mama.

Dance with Jesus for me.

Just sayin'.............

Missing Mom

We are all missing her this week.

I guess he is most of all.

I just know my heart hurts.

Just sayin'............

Storms Likely

The sky matches my mood this evening.

Cloudy with patches of blue.

Intermittent showers possible.

In the words of Ms. Fabulous

through violently gritted teeth........

I HATE this!

I miss her, I miss her, I miss her.

I didn't have enough time.

Forty seven years, eleven months

and sixteen days

were not enough.

So afraid for her to suffer,

I prayed for mercy.

For my compassionate God

to welcome her soon.

He did.

And I am grateful.

But I am still

a child without her mother.

And it hurts.

So much.

Just sayin'....................

Trial by Fire?



News photo of my brother at the scene of the first fire.
If this photo does not fracture your heart then
you have none.

 I was his first playmate.
He was my roommate and best buddy.

We kept each other entertained.
We argued.
Made up.
Argued some more.

But we always, always took care of each other.

He is the only person I will ever be a big sister to.

He heard my first secrets.
And I cried over a few of his.

He was brave when I was shy and I was good when he was bad.  Smile.

Why is this happening?  Again?

One fire doubles you over with grief
for a cherished pet trapped inside
and memories left charred.

A second?  That's just downright
ridiculous. Uncalled for.

Unfair.

How does it happen that what has
become his worst nightmare
repeats itself?

This is beyond irony.
It is sickening.
And heartbreaking.

My little brother lies in a burn unit
in Atlanta, Ga.

His legs, right arm and head are burned.
A machine breathes for him and he is
burning up with a fever of unknown
origin.

He is very sick.

His sweet Doctor Sarah looks hard
at me when she says "Your brother
is very sick. I'm worried."

I don't know what the next few days
will hold but my God does.

I don't know why this happened.
Again.
But my God does.
And He promised that He would never
leave us.

I find myself struggling to pray.
Overwhelmed. Frustrated.
I just want my brother to be okay.

Right now, we need
your prayers.

And for you to claim this promise with us.

Romans 8:26-28 (The Message)Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans.
He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our condition, and keeps us present before God. That's why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.

With my head instead of
my heart,
I choose faith.

In the end, it is all any of us have
and it is the best that we have.

Please pray for my brother.

I was his first playmate
and he was my best buddy.

Just sayin'.............


 

She Loved Knowing That He Loved Her

When I called to wish him a happy birthday,
he reminded me that this would be the first
New Year's Eve in over 60 years that he didn't
have a sweet heart to kiss.

She often seemed impatient
when he was silly
or sentimental
but she loved knowing
that he loved her.

Those private smiles they shared at sentimental
moments are among the most beautiful things
I have ever seen.

It was more than difficult to say
good bye
to him that night
and even though I tried to stay busy
all I could think about was
how I was about to began a
new year
without a mother.

As New Year's Eve wound down
the sorrow rose higher and higher in my throat.

And I grew quieter.

When my husband mentioned running up to the
neighbors for the last few moments of 2010
I shook my head and said that I was feeling
emotional.

(I can write about my grief but sharing it in
person is not something I have ever done easily.)

The sorrow took over and I was incapable of
speaking at all.  Physically incapable of
explaining my sorrow for my father and for
myself.

There are times when I don't dare open my
mouth to give voice to my grief because
I am afraid that I will lose all control and
give way to heaving sobs.

There are times when I am impatient with
the rest of the world because it does not
remember that each 'first' is a painful
reminder of what I no longer have.

Logical? No.
But then again, I have never promised
to be logical.

The old year died and a new one was born.

And I felt empty.

The Color of Grief is Gray

I know, I know. It's been a month since my last post.

I had to take a break. I blame the holidays...because it's
convenient.

Truthfully, the real reason is the Gray.

The Gray is often at the edge of my vision.

Sometimes I pretend not to see it.
Sometimes I turn and face it belligerently.
Sometimes I run from it.

The Gray can be bad for me.
It has packed on more than a few pounds
of fat and it sucks the productivity out
my free time. The Gray has left me more
distracted and absent minded than usual.

And that's pretty dang distracted.
Tonight I pulled up to a red light,
stopped, looked both ways and
ran it.

The Gray is not my enemy but it can never be my
friend.

To be friends with the Gray would leave me in
the bed all day. Detatched from all those I love.
Withdrawn to a place where all colors and
feelings are muted because loss is less
painful that way. 

I know this because I have been friends with
the Gray before and I had to fight hard to
break up with it.

I made it through my first Thanksgiving as the
Mom in charge. It was pretty awful. For many
different reasons my extended family was very
scattered and for the first time I can remember
we weren't together.  Only four of us gathered
around our table that day but we were thankful
to be together and it was okay.
I kept the Gray pushed away because I was
worried about my oldest who was very sick.
AND I was busy trying to figure out a way to convince
her and her husband that they were still my little 
chicks and would be better off moving into my basement.
That would make it so much easier for me to take care
of them when they are sick.

Just sayin'......

Christmas night I said, somewhat pridefully,
that sometimes the anticipation of a painful
event is worse than
the actual event.

Then I woke up this morning to the Gray.

My little piece of the world seems to be filled
with pain for so many of the people I care about.
I am so tired of feeling helpless against their pain.
I have spent the day teary eyed for my father, my
friend, my brothers and my sister.

What I know is this.
Ignoring pain makes it stronger.
When the pain comes...
it is best to face it and feel it.

Just don't make friends with it.


Just sayin'.........

Trash to Treasure?

My next project is this primitive pie safe that has been waiting for me in my parent's basement.

I have been looking for something to display my Lu-ray dishes, McCoy vases and some other old bowls and things I have acquired over the years. 

I like it. Tony isn't so sure. I can tell by the quick intake of breath followed by a just as quick 'Nevermind'. 
His acceptance of my love for things with 'hidden potential' is one way I know he loves me so I just pretend not to notice. 
Smile. 

 The drawer is original but the shelves have been replaced at some point.  Even so, they were pretty dirty.  This picture was taken after I washed them off in the kitchen sink.  My motto has always been: Why work outside in the weather when you can work inside?  With a nice t.v. show in the background.

Heh.

I love the remnants of screen left clinging to the doors and the way the latch has worn a groove in the wood.  I'm not going to replace the screen and I won't repaint it a shiny white. At the most I may give it a wash of blue. I like it just the way it is now.

This is the last thing my mother gave me. My mom was always generous and loved giving. We shared a fascination for all things old and she loved to tell me the history of the treasures she came across.

I grew up surrounded by antique furniture and as a result I find it difficult to purchase something that doesn't have a story.

Each piece of furniture from my childhood had a name...Mamaw's dresser, Nan's spool chest, Uncle So and So's whatchamacallit...I didn't have time to hear the story of this old pie safe.  Mom was already sick when she gave it to me.

I guess it will known as Grandmother's pie safe from the basement.

I miss her so.

Just sayin'.................

Dear Judy

I do not pretend to understand why you
have suffered so.

So much of life on this earth
is a mystery.

Thank you for such a brilliant
example of quiet
faith.

Watching you love the hardest of
all to love taught me to look for
the good in all children.

It taught me that a soft answer
speaks louder than the scolding
voice I too often use.

Judy, for ever more, when I hear
the words grace, genteel or lady
it is your face, your smile and
your example that will come
to mind.

You have fought a beast we
all fear and loathe.

You have fought hard and well
with a courage that has bolstered
those around you.

On behalf of all the children and
parents you have blessed and the family,
friends and co-workers you have loved....

Thank you and we love you, Judy!

We will keep praying for you.
We will pray for peace
and for a miracle.

Just sayin'........................

To My Friend-Because So Many Love You and Yours

Sore at Heart.  Broken.  Broken Hearted.  Heart Sore.

Grief.

It wears like a suit of armor.

It is stiff, unwieldy. Alternately cold and hot.

It rebuffs the sun and repels happiness.  

Grief requires……..no, it demands death. 

Death of one we love, death of a dream, death of a promise, death of an ideal or death of a perception.

Death of any of these leaves you empty, broken and heart sore.

The fact that none of them must remain permanent is of no comfort at first.

My friend and her family are grieving.
If you are here you probably know who I am talking about.
If you do not know her then I apologize for the lack of details.
I will only tell the stories that are mine to tell and this one belongs to my friend and her family.

This friend, like many of us, is human. Smile.
She has made many mistakes in life-just exactly like you and I have.
She has faults. As do I.

I suppose that I want you to understand that underneath the surface that we show to the world we are all the same.
We all rejoice.
We all love.
And we all hurt.

I suppose that I want my friend to know that over the twenty something years of our friendship I have seen the good and the bad.
The funny and the sad.

What I want you to know, my friend, is that I know the steel that lies beneath the surface. 

I want others to know about the times you chose the rocky road, the uphill battle or the way less traveled.

You had a choice early in life that many of your peers wouldn’t have thought twice about.
But you?
You chose the road of sacrifice.

When I confided my struggle with panic attacks…….you put your child in my classroom.
You will never know how your confidence in me gave me the strength to keep my head above the water and to keep on dog paddling through those waters filled with anxiety and heart pounding fear.

Your complete acceptance of something none of us really understood is a gift I will be forever grateful for.

I watched you raise that boy alone for a time. You did it with little monetary support and you let him love ALL his family. Even the ones who didn’t really deserve it at the time.

You had a baby with a pretty foot.  Where others might have seen it as something to cry about…..you simply called it his pretty foot.

You have calmly weathered multiple stitches, broken bones, emergency appendectomies and freak accidents with your children and rightfully earned the right to be my medical colleague. Smile.

I was there when you helped give a gift that broke your heart.  I know the cost.

You said the words I have never forgotten.
You said them when I called with grief and pain of my own.
You said,
Hang in there. We’re gonna circle the wagons around you and it’s gonna be okay.

Well, my friend.
Hang in there. 
We are circling the wagons right now and it IS gonna be okay. 

If you have read this far then you must love my friend too.

PLEASE leave her a comment. 
PLEASE write words of love and encouragement for her and her family.
I want to show them that they are loved by soooooo many.

If you have trouble leaving a comment In-box me on Facebook and I’ll add it for you.

It is time to circle the wagons.


Just sayin'.....................................

Just Breathe-(Sorry Angie)

I tried all week to write a lighter post, Ms. Fabulous.
Really I did!
I just wasn't feeling it.

Funny things have happened. They do everyday in my line of work.
I just didn't feel driven to find those words.

Friday, Oct 22 marked six months since mom died...
And I remembered her with a smile.

The date holds no power for me.
It is other things that take my breath.

Things I never would have guessed.
The book she took with her that last time in the hospital.

A bookmark still waiting for her to find her place again.
The aprons she wore and the brand new dish towels she
refused to use because she didn't want them to get dirty.
Her hairbrush and tooth brush.
Her nightstand.
Her chair.

Incredibly, I find myself unable unwilling to face
My Sanctuary.
My Church.
The sweet familiar voice of my pastor.

I spent most of the last service I attended there
Struggling to keep a sob inside.
Struggling to catch the tears before anyone else saw them.
Struggling to breathe through the pain.
The cords that once bound me there seemed missing.
I know I own my emotions. Still, I felt unimportant. 

So now...well, now I avoid.  It's something I am a master of....

Years ago, for very different reasons,
I chose the words
Just Breathe
as a reminder that many times in life all you can do is
Just Breathe. 
And when that is all you can do, well,
then you have done all you can.

This afternoon I ventured into a beautiful old church
in Milledgeville. I went in support of my father and in
honor of my mother.

The stately old house of worship smelled that musty
old wood smell that exists only in buildings of history
and days gone by.

The Hospice organization that helped us take care of
Mom in those last few, much too short, days had invited
the families and loved ones of the patients they have served
over the last year to join them in a service of
Remembrance.

Maybe it was the easy chatter on the drive over or maybe
it was my old friend Denial.  At any rate, I was blindsided
by raw emotion when they asked me to write something
about my mother for the chaplain to read.

I froze. I panicked. And then I cried.

I didn't know what words were big enough, sincere enough, 
significant enough or lovely enough for her.

I struggled for composure for the next forty minutes.
The wails threatened to erupt from my throat as the
tears flowed. And flowed.I don't mind tears.

It is the heaving, choking
loud wails that I am afraid of.

The service was beautiful.

Each family member present lit candles and the
flickering light they gave was peaceful.

Finally, we gathered outside where the last of four white doves
was handed to my father.

He kissed her head and gently threw her skyward.

Where the previous three doves had flown to the right...

Ours chose the left.

Flying towards the house, a block away, where I grew up
The dove disappeared into the sunlight.

She is gone from us now.

But she is only a breath away.
Only a heartbeat away.

It is our job to continue on-

Even if all we can do is

Just Breathe.




Just Sayin'..................................

An Empty Place

The
empty place
in my heart
is shaped like
her.

I miss her
voice
and
her smile.

I miss the way my
name
said
in her voice
sounded like
love.

I miss

her

hands.

I miss her

khaki

culottes

and

her

S.A.S.

shoes.

I miss

hearing

her say

Hello, my precious angel.

I want her back.

Just sayin'.........................





If You Can Read This-Then Please Pray With Us

Our school family has lost a much loved member. We have lost one of our own. Words cannot express the depth of our shock and our grief.  

I have taught at this school for 27 years now and it has always felt like a family. We take care of our own whether it be faculty or student. We don't always agree with each other and we can be as petty as anyone else can but we always, always take care of each other.

Because in the end....that's what families do.

Each time I closed my eyes last night I saw the beautiful face of our friend. Amy had a smile that not only seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face but it could light up a room. As great as her smile was it didn't compare to her laugh. When Amy laughed-you laughed. She was smart and funny and good at her job. She made it clear that she loved her husband and her boys! In fact, some teased her about how much she loved her husband. She just laughed and told them that they were just jealous. If you knew Amy, then you knew that she loved, loved, loved those boys of hers.

I have heard from many others that they too were unable to sleep. On our minds and in our prayers were her husband who lay critically injured in a hospital and her children. Her babies. One thought ran through my mind over and over....Oh, God her boys...please don't take their daddy. 

Today the news about Amy's husband Brian was more encouraging and we know more about how this unnecessary, horrible tragedy happened.

Grief mixed with anger can be a lethal combination. At times, I find myself completely overwhelmed with anger that someones irresponsible, illegal, selfish decision cost a husband his wife, two precious boys their mother and countless others a piece of their hearts.

Sometimes it is downright inconvenient to be the adult. Personally, I'd like to lay down on the floor and scream and kick my feet. Hearts this broken feel every emotion as keenly as the sharpest knife and it will be hard for us to rise above the pain and anger but guess what?     

We will.

We will because we are family and family takes care of it's own.  We will love those little children entrusted to us each day and we will help them to make some kind of sense out of this mess.  We will comfort them and grieve with them as they began to realize that an adult they have come to know and love will not be coming back to school.

We will rise above this pain and anger because our school family answers to a higher authority than any school administrator or superintendent.  We teach because we are called. We will do what we always do. We will take care of our kids first and then....

well then,

we'll take care of each other.

Because that's what we do at RES.

Just sayin'..........................

So Glad You are Mine

It's been a rough day today.

The tears have fallen more than once.

Every other August 8th I have gotten a 

phone call early in the morning. I tried for

years to be the one to call them but my mother

always beat me to it. Smile. She and Dad always

said, "I'm so glad you are mine." And I always said, "Me too!"

My father has

dreaded this month.

They would have celebrated

their wedding anniversary next weekend.

The

anticipation

of that painful day

must be awful for him. I

called my father as soon

as I was sure he would be

out of church. It broke my

heart to realize that he dreaded

August 14 so much that he forgot August 8.

It's okay though.

That's the kind of

thing that grief does

to you. It is like trying

to find your way through

a dense fog.  It blurs your

eyesight so that it is all you

can do to keep your feet on the

pathway of life. I know that Mom

would want me to make my daddy's

world as okay as I can. So that is what

I tried to do. Hopefully, my voice was just

as happy and as cheerful as I wanted it to be.

As many of us as are

able will gather together

August 8, 1962
The day I found my family

at the restaurant that Mom

always chose for their anniversary

dinner. We have gathered there many

times before to celebrate one thing or another.

I hope that

it helps us all.

Tonight, when all the

kids are in bed and I finally

stop working on lesson plans

I will whisper to my Mom.

I'm so glad you chose me.

Just sayin'.............