"Set up another case bartender! The best thing for a case of nerves is a case of Scotch." - W. C. Fields
It has been a couple of months since I've written an entry in this blog. Since I started writing it in July of 2009, I have never gone so long without an entry but life has rather gotten away from me lately.
The death of my mother in July has left me in a state of grief far greater than I would have imagined. She was old and had been sick for a very long time. I knew the day was coming that I would lose her but when I did, I was overwhelmed by a sense of profound loss. She was my mother. No one has ever loved me the way my mother loved me. No one ever will again. Though she hadn't spoken for years and gave no indication that she could understand anything I told her, I still told her everything. I talked to her about my hopes and fears, victories and defeats. I told her all my troubles. It made me feel better. But now she is gone. There is no one to tell. No one who will not judge me. No one who just listen and love me the way my mom did. I just want a few more hours. Just to look at her beautiful face and run my fingers over her smooth, soft skin. Just a few more hours to sing to her and speak to her, to see her smile one more time.
There is so much to do after someone dies. It is not just about funeral arrangements or writing and giving her eulogy - the hardest speech I've ever had to make. It's also about settling her estate, about banking and taxes and notifying what seems like a thousand people and sending out a thousand copies of her death certificate.
Tucked into the chaos of these difficult days, there has been a trip to Vienna with my husband, the annual charity work I do with my son, assistance for a young friend in preparing for her wedding, a two week visit from my husband's niece and a series of stressed and emotional clients. I have a lot to say about Vienna but I will save it for another time. I am too tired tonight.
I've noticed the smallest of things are jangling my nerves - a teenage boy bouncing a basketball for two blocks along the Queen's Quay this afternoon, badly behaved children at the airport last evening, crying babies, old ladies driving the wrong way in the Loblaw's parking lot - it doesn't take much.
I've been cleaning and organizing like a madwoman for the last couple of weeks, trying to prepare for the arrival of Merv's niece. Instead of just plowing through it with some sense of satisfaction, I plowed through it while berating myself at every turn for letting things get so disorganized and out of control in the first place. It wasn't until yesterday that I stepped back and asked myself what the reality of that was. The truth is, I have dealt with constant physical challenges for the past four years - three herniated lumbar discs and two rounds of heart failure. It's a miracle things were in as good a condition as they were. The house was clean, though disorganized. It's not disorganized now. When I felt better, I did better. It's time to stop berating myself for not having supernatural powers. Old habits die hard. I'm going to have to work on that one.
And sometime in the weeks ahead, when our company is gone and I've finished the business of my mom's estate, when the wedding is over and all my closets have been cleaned, I'm going to take a few days, just for myself. I'm going to read and binge watch all the old episodes of This Is Us. I'm going to eat chocolate in bed and take long leisurely baths using all the bath bombs in the basket by the tub. And I'm going to soothe my nerves at least enough to not feel I'm coming unglued because a teenager is bouncing a basketball as he walks on the road ahead of me.
