(started) Tues, Nov 7/17
(finished) Fri, Nov 10/17
Dear Mom,
I'm late with your letter this week. I made another trip
out to your place last weekend and writing just wasn't in the cards. It was a
good "visit". I wish you had been there ...
I am feeling weary. Weary with the thoughts of how you
wanted things to be done and emptying my conscience of our conversations, so I
am not alone with those wishes.
Your thoughts sound wrong in my head. I was so close, so
present and aware of everything you were going through, it is as if you have
taken up residence in my mind and I'm struggling.
You have and always will be a strong influence in my life,
my thinking and the way I live my life. But I have tempered your thoughts by
adding my own perspective, insight and actions which has created a balanced
"status quo" for me.
I feel as though I am losing part of myself right now. I
hear your voice and your words within my thoughts. I see the look in your eyes
and the expression on your face when I would misinterpret your signals. I am
still wincing and flinching when I know I've overstepped, misspoke or not said
what you would have wanted me to say. I'm struggling.
I want to do "this" right, Mom. I'm doing my
best.
I know I am holding on tightly to those conversations we
have had and every nuance of the way you looked, spoke and said so much through
those "looks" of yours. I don't want to forget anything, but in the
process of holding onto every little thing, I am holding onto that which is not
serving me well.
I have felt rather sad lately and it has been because I
have been thinking of your last days. You were ready to let go of this life.
"This isn't living" were a few of the last words you spoke...
You made this as easy as one could make it for us. You were
strong, brave and asked for little. You simply wished for our presence. You
didn't want to be alone at the end. And you weren't. And because we were all
there for you, we were all there for each other.
I'm holding on tight to the knowledge that I can still go
back to your home. It has been disassembled and it is simply a shell now. It
has been a gradual process and my head is okay with all of the change which has
been inevitable to come. My heart is actually pretty good with all of the
changes too. Your belongings have found new homes. I can't wait to visit
everyone to see how they have blended a little piece of you into their homes.
My life is feeling a little bit empty as I go back to a
life which revolved around you a lot this past year. I enjoyed "filling
the cracks of my life" with my trips to Edmonton. I'm going to miss those
regular getaways.
Life is moving on. It is good but it is a little bit sad. I
will miss the life I had but I must work on that "10 year plan" you
asked me about. Ten years is a little too far for me to see right now. I'll
work on the present and trust the future will take care of itself.
One day at a time. It will all work out in the end, if I
just keep putting one foot in front of the other and move in a forward
direction.
This has taken forever for me to write. I'm sorry. This is
the kind thinking that used to get me into trouble with you. "What was I
supposed to think?" you would respond when I wrote something that shouldn't
have been written. Thus, I have deleted, reworded, shed a few tears, deleted
some more and clarified this until it is not a free flow of words but a
carefully edited version of the thoughts in my head.
It is time to look ahead. It is the only direction one can
move. It's harder than it appears. But it is the only way. One forward step at
a time.
I'm staying home this weekend and I admit that I am
overjoyed with the thought of sequestering myself within the confines of these
four walls. I look forward to sitting down with one of your many books and lose
myself to words on a page.
I still have much sifting, organizing and culling to do.
Your room is a bit chaotic and it seems to be reflecting my state of mind. I will
stay home this weekend and tend to the chaos...
I feel myself smile as I think of the spelling of the word
"chaos" within your book(s) of notations. It reminds me of the time the
spelling eluded you, Wendy & Terry during one of their annual visits. There
are so many little memories that make my heart happy.
I'll sift and sit among the "happy" this weekend
and write you at the end. It's going to be okay. Life has a way of working out
in the end, if you simply trust the process.
I'm trusting the process, Mom. It isn't as hard as I thought it would be on one hand but on the other, it's the little things that are wearing me down. A weekend at home filled with good thoughts and memories will sustain me. If you could send a rabbit my way, I would be overjoyed.
I didn't see a rabbit the whole time I was in Edmonton last
weekend. I saw their tracks in the snow but when a new dusting of snow covered
them while I was there, the tracks didn't return. My only consolation was in
the knowing that I hadn't missed a rabbit-spotting. The rabbit(s) simply didn't
come. I think they miss you too.
'Nough said. I'll be back again soon.
With
love,
Colleen
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