Lilies

 I cleaned off the dock where I live and noticed a few lily pads beginning to grow under the water. By mid June, the small lake will be covered with blooming lily pads. Lilies have enjoyed a long history of symbolism. To many they represent renewal and resurrection, which is fitting with the celebration of Easter approaching. For me I like the way lilies grow. While their beauty sits on the surface of the water, the roots are connected to the mud. In Buddhism, the emphasis is on enlightenment with the beauty rising through and connected to the mud. Grief keeps me connected to the mud. As I have said many times, grief gives me seeing eyes. whether I am looking at a sunset or the snow falling, I seem to experience life with more intensity; more appreciation for the moments--each moment.

Thoughts on Motherhood

 On Monday, I  had the privilege to be the guest speaker in my friend's eight grade class. The topic of my talk was victim/offender mediation, which is a topic for another blog post. What prompted my thoughts today were the words that my friend of twenty years introduced me to her class with. She said, " Class meet my friend, Kathleen. When I young and single , Kathleen was the first mother I saw have fun with her children. When married and had children, she became my Mom mentor." Her words made me smile with humble pride and I reminisced about my early years in Motherhood. Truth be told, as a mother, I had no idea what I was doing. I had little to go on. I remember holding Gunnar in the hospital and saying out loud, "What do I do now?" Life did not go smoothly. I was terrified, I mean really who thought it was a good idea to put me in charge of a baby, another human life? There is a well known saying, "The hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world." If that adage is accurate, those are some big shoes to fill. I did not want to rock the world, as an overwhelmed  scared twenty-six year old sleep deprived new mom, all I wanted at the time was a nap! Slowly I got my "mom rhythm" and this is what I did---I hand another baby. My two son's were unique. They came from the same gene pool, but sometimes I wondered. Gunnar was the most kinetic, rather high strung child I ever saw and Hayden was as mellow easy going as they come. As a mom, I had a conviction that part of my "job" was to know my children as individuals and nurture them, not change them. In the daily routine of diapers, feedings and laundry. I learned to appreciate Gunnar and Hayden. At this point, I feel like I am bragging. Keep in mind how afraid I was---What if I messed up?--what if I stunk at being a mom?---too late now! What  I remember from the early days of motherhood are feelings of intimidation. I did not have all the answers and not much of a plan. What I could do is "learn" my sons and play with them.  each day in the mist of the mess, the three of us played and laughed and discovered the joys of just being together. Thanks Julie, for letting me speak to your class and for reminding me of how fun motherhood can be.

Far Too Long

I started this blog, like many to record and share thoughts. For me,  the subject matter is primarily grief and stories about my two sons. Because I am by myself now, I am the story teller, which I do not mind so much because, like many mom's , I love talking about my children. Obviously I have not written for a very long time. I ask myself, why? After a few lame excuses--I am too busy with school work, chores take up a lot of time. The honest answer is fear. Fear keeps me from writing. Here is the list of fears that shackle me----fear of judgement, rejection, bad grammar, facing difficult emotions, among others. The thing I have notice about fear and this is no revelation, I think it is common knowledge; the more I give into fear the smaller and more disempowered I feel. I use the word feel, but I think it is more of a reality fear does disempower. In the popular and overcrowded world of blogs, mine is a minnow, yet here it is, bad grammar and all. I think of quote from Pablo Picasso,

"I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn to do it."

July 22 One year later

 I wrote this July 22, 2010 but procrastinated posting it until now...
 It goes without saying that today is an emotional day. In a way, I relive the shock of Gunnar's death. Grief memories and gratitude intertwine and overlap. With that in mind, I wrote this letter to Gunnar.

 Dear Gunnar, I miss you son.  Such a huge part of my world is gone. As I sit and write, I cry and smile at the same time.  I cry because missing you hurts. the grief is understandably fresh, so I cut myself some slack. I hear your reasuring voice, "It's OK Mom, you'll be alright." I smile as I remember all the laughter we shared.  I love our time sitting on the couch watching "B" science fiction movies, making fun of the dialogue and the meager special effects that accompany such endeavors.  I never minded you coming home late at night and stopping by my door and saying, "Mom, guess what happened." It seems your best thoughts came to you between the hours of 12:00AM and 1:30AM.  The list  is endless, son.
 Your friends have shared many stories about you with me this past year. I have listened with a heart full of satisfaction.
I am reminded of Dietrich Bonhoeffer's words,
" Nothing will fill the gap when we are away from those we love, and it would be wrong to try and find anything. We must simply hold out and win through. That sounds very hard at first, but at the same time it is a great consolation, since leaving the gap unfilled preserves the bond between us. It is nonsense to say the God fills the gap: He does not fill it, but keeps it empty so that our communion with another may be kept alive, even at the cost of pain."

 While I live with a "grand canyon size Gunnar and Hayden gap"-----I would not trade. This is what I mean son, if I had the opportunity to live my life again and the choice to have a life free of grief --I would choose to live life just like it was handed to me. I would not opt out of motherhood-- being your  and Hayden's mom is my most cherished privilege. I love you Gunnar. Your life continues to inspire many.

Best Friends

I thought about Gunnar and Hayden's friendship this week. They were devoted to each other. Each approached life differently. Gunnar preferred the "take the bull by the horns." approach while Hayden employed, "Let's negotiate." tactic They were devoted to each other. Gunnar, A highly kinetic individual, enter into Hayden's sedentary world of cancer. They manage to blend the two in a way that left me in awe at times. Part of Hayden's cancer treatment involved receiving daily shots, mind he is four at the time--not excited about needles. He wanted to be brave but ...So big six year old brother step up, "I'll give myself a shot too, Hayden." And he did. The memory makes me smile and cry. There is such a beauty when one person chooses to enter another's pain. At many levels, we are solitary beings, meaning we are unique and experience life on a unique level. That's the beauty of relationship, entering into another's world. I watched my six year old blend his world with Hayden's. For example, there was a period when Gunnar like football and would choreograph his own football games, complete with a sports announcer. Hayden wanted to play football too. He was fragile, his double lumen line was in place and a significant portion of his skull missing, so participating in a high contact sport like football may not be in his best interest. So what solution did Gunnar and Hayden come up with so that both could play football?--- Slow motion football---brilliant!! Together, My boy's forged a beautiful friendship despite hardship. Their beauty inspires me daily--Thank you G and H!

Guest House

"The Guest House"

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond."

Jelaluddin Rumi

I like this poem. It captures an important aspect of grief. It affirms the many facets that loss presents to the griever. Our american culture, as do all cultures has rituals relating to death and loss. But after the memorial --then what? Then-- there is the business of grief. There is opening the door as Rumi writes and offering an invitation to each emotion or thought as they come. Many of the terms our culture surrounds grief with captures an aspect but for me, none express the full measure of the experience of burying two sons. Five stages of grief? yes there is movement in grief but it is not so tidy. Recovery? I'm not certain there is recovery from grief, It is not that type of injury--or the new normal--more accurately, it is tension between two lives one that was full and now one that is empty. Now that I have criticized, I will say what does work for me--the word path--I like that word. It is a gentle word that contains promise.

Love

Hayden loved the Chronicles of Narnia series. As young lads, Gunnar and Hayden lived the adventures along with Lucy and her siblings. Hayden loved to inform people about a little bit of trivia regarding the author, "His name is Clive Staples Lewis, but his friend call him Jack."

The prolific writer, CS Lewis penned a short devotional entitled "No Insurances Against heartbreak." It seems innate in humans to avoid pain. As I walk this path of grief, it seems like a "knee jerk" response to try and protect myself from further pain--what strategy can I employ to assure that my heart won't hurt anymoreThe heart of CS Lewis' essay addresses this dilemma. He writes, "If you do not want heartbreak, do not love anything--not even an animal." He continues, "Wrap yourself in hobbies and luxuries." CS Lewis sums up such a life choice as a self inflicted hell of the worst type.

I remember these words on the hardest of days. The days, where, like Job, my bones hurt from the pain of loss. They remind me that, even though the path of grief is difficult, the alternative is more difficult and tragic. To try and protect myself is a costly and hollow response to grief. As I work through the labyrinth of emotions that contain some dark places I would rather not know about. None-the--less, it is part of the deal, the price of love is to at some point to know pain.