A Sense of Doubt blog post #3945 - I am the Same Age as Mom Was When - Reprint of #148 - Return to 150 Days Since on Day 3809

2006

A Sense of Doubt blog post #3945 - I am the Same Age as Mom Was When - Reprint of #148 - Return to 150 Days Since on Day 3809

Time for some reprints. Home work, work work, holiday stuff, and more is pushing me into reprint mode until the 12th. In that time, I have one original and new post planned, the weekly letter to Dad on the 11th. I have new posts scheduled for the 13th and 14th, but the Saturday 12/13 has been postponed many times; we'll see if I can get it finished to my satisfaction. The goal is to work on these two new posts (okay, three) this week with others in reprint mode. So, no NEW writing Wednesday this week.

I also have a practicum intensive all day 7-4:30 Thursday through Sunday, which in part motivated my decision to enter reprint and low power mode.

I dove back to the first year of HEY MOM for this reprint, 2015, and found this post not ON the 6th but close enough.

Reflecting on 150 days since Mom died, now, years later (3809 days in all or 3659 since the 150th day), the grief is still there just not as strong. I still miss both parents intensely. I made talking about how much I miss them part of the nightly routine with Ellory that I call the numbers, a series of things I tell Ellory to reassure her that's safe, loved, and special. So, every night, I reflect on how much I miss Mom and Dad, and often it has occurred to me several times throughout the day, as I often talk to them as I do things (this talking is the subject of Thursday's letter to Dad).

ALSO, I realized the other day that I am the age now that Mom was when she contracted the bacterial meningitis and became paralyzed. She was 63 in March of 2000 as she had not yet turned 64. I am 63 now. This realization of our ages seems very significant to me.

Speaking of this time with Mom, she did recover and had many good years despite the challenges she faced. Recently, in looking for pictures of Dad, I cam across the one above from 2006 as she helps Lori prepare Christmas cookies. Those years from about 2003 to 2008 were probably her best years of the fifteen she lived since contracting the bacterial meningitis. I know there was a year that she didn't go to the hospital, and it may have been 2006. I can check Dad's diaries later for confirmation.

In any case. that's a good picture of Mom. The games over her should on the counter are out because I wanted to try to keep her mind active and sharp. We played a little. Not too much. She'd rather look at catalogues or watch TV. But look how happy she is. I love that look on her face.

So, definitely, 150 days after Mom died, I was in a lot more pain than today. I would not say that there's no pain now, but it's that pain of grief that you learn to live with, that you wrap your life around it to contain it, hold it. The fire of that grief is still lit for both Mom and Dad. I have been feeling the flames of it hotter this holiday season than I remember feeling in others recently. But I am all right, just fine, doing well. What other choice is there that is a good choice?

Thanks for tuning in.

LOW POWER MODE: I sometimes put the blog in what I call LOW POWER MODE. If you see this note, the blog is operating like a sleeping computer, maintaining static memory, but making no new computations. If I am in low power mode, it's because I do not have time to do much that's inventive, original, or even substantive on the blog. This means I am posting straight shares, limited content posts, reprints, often something qualifying for the THAT ONE THING category and other easy to make posts to keep me daily. That's the deal. Thanks for reading.


Link to the original post I am reprinting below:

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #148 - 150 Days Ago

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #148 - 150 Days Ago

Hi Mom, This one's not going to be well structured, and I am not going to try to impose structure. I am just letting it all fly. Streaming.

So, it's been 150 days since you died. I am only aware of this because I am doing this blog and as a weird, OCD compunction, I am counting the days.

So, that's 15 sets of ten days or ten sets of 15 days, which is basically 10 pairs of weeks or 20 weeks. I had thought of acknowledging the 144th day since your death, Mom, as that's twelve squared, and I am doing a lot of math with squares and square roots, so I notice such things.

20 weeks was the length of two quarters at K College but just about 25% over the length of a WMU semester. It's also basically five months - five sets of 30 days.

Earlier today, I said I missed you out loud, and I still felt the loss pretty hard and strong. I could probably do this every day, tell you I miss you, and the loss would always be there. I am going to have to keep figuring out how to live with the loss. Because the next looming milestone will be 200 days, which is over half of a year. Should I pause on day 182 or 183 (depending on how one rounds numbers) to reflect that it has been exactly half of a year? Now that I have done that calculation, I probably will.

But I do not wish to seem self-pitying. I do not wish to seem as if I am wallowing in grief. Life goes on. Life has gone on. In fact, this blog is meant to be about life going on. I am continuing those daily conversations with you, which talks about my life, which now also includes my experience with grief and with losing you.

Losing you but not losing you. You are no longer alive, no longer here physically, but I sense you often. I hear you speak to me. I feel your presence. I feel you watching over me. I feel your love, your pride, your approval (and occasional disapproval). I believe in spirituality.

And yet, I am also skeptical enough to know that these feelings could all be rooted in my psyche, could be my psyche's way of coping with the loss of you. It's just my mind playing tricks. There are no spirits. I do not really feel your presence. I just want to so badly that my psyche makes it happen. I want to believe in more, but I am also rational enough to know that there may not be more.

But I don't really like that theory. And one thing your death has taught me is that faith is all about believing in a thing when I have no rational and epistemological proof for it.

I see one of the dangers of writing this blog is that I will be seen as "grief boy," even if the majority of my posts are about living life and NOT about wallowing in grief. Simply because I am writing TO YOU, Mom, I can be accused of not moving on, not getting over your death (not that I think we can ever get over a loss like this one, you didn't get over the loss of your Mother, ever, Mom). I try not to mention or reference your death all the time out in the world, Mom. Though I did just recently share with my work supervisor that my obvious surliness brought on by stress is an ongoing by-product of how your death has affected my work and my life since July. And then, my good friend Walt Curley shares with me about his struggles on the four year anniversary of his mother's death, for the entire month of the month in which she died. So, I expect that this designation of "grief boy" is not something that I will easily shed, and I may not ever shed it.

Even though this blog feature (because eventually there will be non-Hey Mom content on this blog) is supposed to be about moving on, it's also meant to be a reflection on grief and loss at least some of the time. After all, I am trying to figure out how to grieve, to figure out my grief process, to find a way to keep living and to accept that you are gone. I find this last part still very difficult even after 150 days. I continue to think that this is a bad dream from which I will wake and the world be restored to the way it should be, Mom, with you in it.

I miss so many things that are part of having you here in a physical and living way, like kisses and hugs and just you as a living and breathing human being. I doubt I will ever stop thinking about that loss of that physical presence, though maybe I will stop thinking about it every day, at least at some point.

This feels finished enough.

I miss you, Mom.

I don't know if you have noticed this, Mom, but when I have to back date these posts, IE. publish backwards in time, I always pick the time of your last breath: 10:10 a.m. Blogger is positioned in Pacific time, so I actually have to select 7:10 a.m. so it works out right.

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.

Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
- Days ago = 150 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1512.02 - 10:10
and again 1512.04 - 8:30
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

- Bloggery committed by chris tower - date - 2512.06 - 10:10

- Days ago: MOM = 3809 days ago & DAD = 464 days ago

- New note - On 1807.06, I ceased daily transmission of my Hey Mom feature after three years of daily conversations. I post Hey Mom blog entries on special occasions. I post the days since ("Days Ago") count on my blog each day, and now I have a second count for Days since my Dad died on August 28, 2024. I am now in the same time zone as Google! So, when I post at 10:10 a.m. PDT to coincide with the time of Mom's death, I am now actually posting late, so it's really 1:10 p.m. EDT. But I will continue to use the time stamp of 10:10 a.m. to remember the time of her death and sometimes 13:40 EDT for the time of Dad's death. The blog entry numbering in the title has changed to reflect total Sense of Doubt posts since I began the blog on 0705.04, which include Hey Mom posts, Daily Bowie posts, and Sense of Doubt posts. Hey Mom posts will still be numbered sequentially. New Hey Mom posts will use the same format as all the other Hey Mom posts; all other posts will feature this format seen here.