I've been pretty good at keeping myself out of my own blog, but I'm chipping off around the edges.
I frequently feel like I ought to post, but I don't have much to tell you. So much of my time is so comfortably free...and I don't want to go places and do things the way I did in the past. It's easy to assume that this period in my life is really boring to anyone else.
There are so many blogs with so many different levels of engagement. I'd rather tell you a story and you can tell me a story and we'll go from there. Sometimes our stories will be sad or brave or frightening or funny. Sometimes they'll just be funny. I've realized that I don't have to tell you every little thing about myself. You can stop in and read a post or two and never listen to me again.
Where is this ah-ha moment coming from?
Tonight I Googled something and the second or third link took me to a blog I've never read before. Today's post is just a couple lines from the author saying that her husband died early this morning. Her blog is only a few months old and there are a variety of posts about a variety of things, but I think her husband has been ill for a while and this wasn't a sudden surprise.
It struck me as so astonishing - the digital community in all of it's anonymity and intimacy. A woman simply informing friends and strangers about this tragedy in her life. There, it happened, it's out there. That information being read and remembered, sometimes with a comment on the blog or a silent prayer that is hours and thousands of miles away.
The woman may not post again for days, but none of her cyber-friends will be surprised or expect anything from her. They'll be there when she gets back, and for that time it will finally and completely be about her. She won't be the widow or the daughter or the mother, she will just be herself. I don't see her through a filter in which she's my sister or co-worker or childhood friend...I just see her.
So, here's a picture taken about a week ago of me with my Mom at her house in California. It was taken as I was leaving for the airport to fly home, the suitcase was already in the car.
My Mom has terminal cancer and is becoming very frail. There, I said it. I don't want to tell you any of the sad stuff or the tough stuff, so I'll tell you a story.
During this trip, Mom talked to me about living alone after living with others. My Dad's been gone a few years and she loves living alone: making what she's wants for dinner, her own TV shows and bedtime. She knew I would understand because I'm divorced and I've been there...and I also appreciate the pleasures of living alone (Ok, Jack is here but he's old enough to be working or hanging out with his buddys for most of his time)
With one of my brothers or sisters staying over every night, and the woman who comes by to bathe her and the hospice people (She's not sure they really need to come over...once a week? Really? She's boggled) I think she was trying to tell me that she needed some alone time. So, I went to a movie with one of my sisters for an afternoon matinee.
We came back and let ourselves in. Mom had started a lovely fire in the fireplace, fixed herself a cocktail, and sat down with a plate of cheese and crackers to watch the McNeill/Lehrer Report. Ahhh...Peace at last!
I'll leave you with a happy picture of my Mom with her great-grandaughter, Ivy. For fun, check out Ivy's Mom & Dad's blog to see more pictures from their trip to California in early January.