Pastimes of My Poorer Self

We wandered over to South Carolina yesterday, in search of Jack in the Box (found) and something to do (also found). We ended up at the botanical gardens on Clemson's campus. We decided that with nothing better to do that blistering hot day, we'd go for a stroll.

As usual, this turned into a mushroom hunt.

I am always a little amused by hunting mushrooms for photos, as though I'm on some photo-safari of fungi. I suppose I am. But they're strange little things, with their shapes and colors and I'll admit, I'm always going to be entertained by this, at least a little.

If I happen to be observing the flowers, or the trees, and miss a fungal family I'll hear calls of "MOM! Mushroom!" and I bend down, getting low to meet the mushrooms on their level. After all, that's where they keep their secrets and I usually see the best stuff down there.

I wonder if my oldest even remembers from where this tradition arose. When we left Florida and moved to what I then considered hell and now find to be home, we were so in debt we could barely function. Months without income had taken it's toll. With three small boys to keep entertained the local parks were our frequent destination, and taking strolls through the new, alien landscapes ended up with Louis amazed at the quantity and variety of mushrooms.

We didn't have anything LIKE that in Florida. I am sure there are mushrooms. But they are Florida mushrooms and probably transient, sexual predators or in a rock band. Regardless, it was new and so taking pictures of mushrooms became a form of cheap entertainment that's now assigned to me every time we step into a woods.

I kind of like it. The mushrooms are kind of attention whores, they like it too.

Pastimes of My Poorer Self

We wandered over to South Carolina yesterday, in search of Jack in the Box (found) and something to do (also found). We ended up at the botanical gardens on Clemson's campus. We decided that with nothing better to do that blistering hot day, we'd go for a stroll.

As usual, this turned into a mushroom hunt.

I am always a little amused by hunting mushrooms for photos, as though I'm on some photo-safari of fungi. I suppose I am. But they're strange little things, with their shapes and colors and I'll admit, I'm always going to be entertained by this, at least a little.

If I happen to be observing the flowers, or the trees, and miss a fungal family I'll hear calls of "MOM! Mushroom!" and I bend down, getting low to meet the mushrooms on their level. After all, that's where they keep their secrets and I usually see the best stuff down there.

I wonder if my oldest even remembers from where this tradition arose. When we left Florida and moved to what I then considered hell and now find to be home, we were so in debt we could barely function. Months without income had taken it's toll. With three small boys to keep entertained the local parks were our frequent destination, and taking strolls through the new, alien landscapes ended up with Louis amazed at the quantity and variety of mushrooms.

We didn't have anything LIKE that in Florida. I am sure there are mushrooms. But they are Florida mushrooms and probably transient, sexual predators or in a rock band. Regardless, it was new and so taking pictures of mushrooms became a form of cheap entertainment that's now assigned to me every time we step into a woods.

I kind of like it. The mushrooms are kind of attention whores, they like it too.

This Time Thing

So it's been a lot of days since I made time to sit down here and put my thoughts together. I think part of that was because I began to felt like over thinking was driving my depression. But the other part was I decided maybe I just needed to BE for awhile and not worry about some things. I got through a birthday and a lot of other days and I seem to have fallen into normalcy.

It's not that I'm all better and I've moved on and time has healed etc yadda yadda. It's just that every motion, every thought no longer resonates the words MOM IS DEAD into my brain. I've slowly moved into a place where I can function again and resemble a person not grieving, at least to the outside world.

I've realized over the past few days how much I did every day was for mom. Snapping pics of the kids and putting them on FACEBOOK or emailing them over to her. Sometimes maybe even what I wrote. My mom being apart from my kids is my greatest regret, because they won't ever know a fraction of how amazing she was. Their version of her is diminished because distance. I know I did my best, with phone calls every day and visits when we could get her here or we could go home, but that's my biggest regret. 

I had the luxury of being able to go to MY grandparents every day. I wish my kids had that. They aren't scarred or damaged because they didn't, but they missed something and now it's over.

Julia had soccer on Sunday and after her game we all went up to the lake for a hike. Everyone needed to stretch their legs and get some fresh air. I found myself again taking pictures for mom, only to realize she won't ever see them. I've got to stop doing that.

I've read a lot about grief over the past month. Basically what I've read has shown me that I'm not unusual, that what I'm struggling with is completely normal. Society puts too harsh of an expectation on us all to just get over it and move on. I feel some better realizing I'm not completely out of whack with how I feel.

I feel better, and I'm not going to push myself to pretend to be ok. I'm not ever going to be OK on this subject, but at least I'm not completely crippled emotionally. I'm tired of talking about it with my friends, and with my family. I'm tired of explaining sudden sobbing, or why the Polar Express broke my heart the other night, or why driving down the road and thinking of anything brings me to tears. It's a short answer, "Because Mom died."

It's a longer answer. "Because my best friend, the one person in the world who knew me inside and out, the one person I could always count on, the deepest love I ever knew, the first person I ever wanted to tell everything my entire life, the person I trusted infinitely, the best friend I will ever have, my PERSON....died."

I can't explain to anyone who died, not accurately. Saying "Because Mom died" is the shortest wrongest answer despite how right & concise it is. It does not even remotely cover my loss.

So I'll do life things with my four children and find my mom in each of them, and remember how she always told me that your children are your immortality.

That makes my children HER immortality. That's a pretty good thing, in my opinion.

We made our hike another opportunity to do my kids favorite activity - hunting mushrooms. Our finds this time were pretty good.

Time doesn't heal all, but distance seems to be building a barrier. I'll take it.
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This Time Thing

So it's been a lot of days since I made time to sit down here and put my thoughts together. I think part of that was because I began to felt like over thinking was driving my depression. But the other part was I decided maybe I just needed to BE for awhile and not worry about some things. I got through a birthday and a lot of other days and I seem to have fallen into normalcy.

It's not that I'm all better and I've moved on and time has healed etc yadda yadda. It's just that every motion, every thought no longer resonates the words MOM IS DEAD into my brain. I've slowly moved into a place where I can function again and resemble a person not grieving, at least to the outside world.

I've realized over the past few days how much I did every day was for mom. Snapping pics of the kids and putting them on FACEBOOK or emailing them over to her. Sometimes maybe even what I wrote. My mom being apart from my kids is my greatest regret, because they won't ever know a fraction of how amazing she was. Their version of her is diminished because distance. I know I did my best, with phone calls every day and visits when we could get her here or we could go home, but that's my biggest regret. 

I had the luxury of being able to go to MY grandparents every day. I wish my kids had that. They aren't scarred or damaged because they didn't, but they missed something and now it's over.

Julia had soccer on Sunday and after her game we all went up to the lake for a hike. Everyone needed to stretch their legs and get some fresh air. I found myself again taking pictures for mom, only to realize she won't ever see them. I've got to stop doing that.

I've read a lot about grief over the past month. Basically what I've read has shown me that I'm not unusual, that what I'm struggling with is completely normal. Society puts too harsh of an expectation on us all to just get over it and move on. I feel some better realizing I'm not completely out of whack with how I feel.

I feel better, and I'm not going to push myself to pretend to be ok. I'm not ever going to be OK on this subject, but at least I'm not completely crippled emotionally. I'm tired of talking about it with my friends, and with my family. I'm tired of explaining sudden sobbing, or why the Polar Express broke my heart the other night, or why driving down the road and thinking of anything brings me to tears. It's a short answer, "Because Mom died."

It's a longer answer. "Because my best friend, the one person in the world who knew me inside and out, the one person I could always count on, the deepest love I ever knew, the first person I ever wanted to tell everything my entire life, the person I trusted infinitely, the best friend I will ever have, my PERSON....died."

I can't explain to anyone who died, not accurately. Saying "Because Mom died" is the shortest wrongest answer despite how right & concise it is. It does not even remotely cover my loss.

So I'll do life things with my four children and find my mom in each of them, and remember how she always told me that your children are your immortality.

That makes my children HER immortality. That's a pretty good thing, in my opinion.

We made our hike another opportunity to do my kids favorite activity - hunting mushrooms. Our finds this time were pretty good.

Time doesn't heal all, but distance seems to be building a barrier. I'll take it.
Tweet