So we (MacArthur and I) went out to the ocean today and scattered some of my mother's ashes. We hiked down to a beautiful small cove and said a few words. It was a strange combination of heavy, painful, and freeing. Such a weight was lifted when it was all done.
On the drive out to the beach, I was quiet. First, I got a call from Noreen (FHA president). She asked me how I was doing, and was actually very nice. I was glad I got a chance to connect with her, specifically *not* as her employee. For so many years, I worked for her, in such fear because of the things that my supervisor would say. She created an atmosphere of fear. I never really got to see Noreen as a whole person. As a human. I remember the guidance that I got from Niki was to keep under her radar. She made it seem like Noreen was a fire breathing dragon. When in fact, she's actually a very nice person. I mean she's just a normal human being. Powerful -yes. But that is *not* a bad thing. It's encouraging. I am always inspired when I get to see a strong woman in action. It's empowering *to me*. It helps me see that "I can do that too"! That I can develop those leadership qualities in me and help empower others (both women *and* men) in the world.
The next call I got on the way out... was from a gentleman from the cemetery. He told me that they had gotten the permit in sooner than anticipated, for my mother's burial, and that we could do it on Monday. So we moved it up a day.
The sooner the better is now my attitude. I realize that I have been carrying this enormous weight this last year. So much grief. So much seriousness and sadness. I feel like I have been dying slowly. On Monday, when we lay to rest, the remainder of my mother's ashes, I anticipate that it will not only feel like a relief and give my heart some peace and rest; but that it will also be somewhat like a symbolic death and burial of the last vestiges of the me that was before. The last of the old me. The child that could never imagine this kind of tragedy, or living past it alone. It's time to live. To embrace *living* -with joy. -Even without my mother. I'm kind of like a begrudging little caterpillar...that didn't really want to shed it's cocoon and blossom. I really didn't. I wanted to stay a caterpillar. Comfortable and loved by all of my caterpillar friends and family. But that's not how life worked out. I keep telling myself though that: this is a great opportunity to forge my life into whatever my heart desires. I'm casting off everything that I've ever known. Losing everything. Having my heart and family torn away. But having the space and opportunity to build a new life. Develop deeper relationships with distant family members and making them *not so distant*. -Close even. And I am so grateful for all of the people who have loved me through my darkness. And through my sadness. George, my mother's best friend, has always been a source of encouragement, strength, and laughter; which in my opinion is completely necessary for surviving the Spanish Inquisition. "No one *expects* The Spanish Inquisition" they say...but it happens to us all at one time or another in life. Heartbreak is part of being human. It's part of loving. And I guess it's worth it.
I felt so close to MacArthur today. So lucky that he is my love. And so sheltered from the storm by his love. Jodi put it well, when she said "I'm not the kind of person who believes in God. But if I *was* I would find it amazing that just as one great love of your life leaves...another one arrives." Truer words were never said. And I am so grateful for the grace that God, The Universe, or what-have-you has bestowed upon me.
I plan to go forward with my life, and live in a manor which would make my mother proud. I will be happy. I will have joy in my heart. And I will develop my abilities and contribute something of worth and value to the world around me.
On the drive out to the beach, I was quiet. First, I got a call from Noreen (FHA president). She asked me how I was doing, and was actually very nice. I was glad I got a chance to connect with her, specifically *not* as her employee. For so many years, I worked for her, in such fear because of the things that my supervisor would say. She created an atmosphere of fear. I never really got to see Noreen as a whole person. As a human. I remember the guidance that I got from Niki was to keep under her radar. She made it seem like Noreen was a fire breathing dragon. When in fact, she's actually a very nice person. I mean she's just a normal human being. Powerful -yes. But that is *not* a bad thing. It's encouraging. I am always inspired when I get to see a strong woman in action. It's empowering *to me*. It helps me see that "I can do that too"! That I can develop those leadership qualities in me and help empower others (both women *and* men) in the world.
The next call I got on the way out... was from a gentleman from the cemetery. He told me that they had gotten the permit in sooner than anticipated, for my mother's burial, and that we could do it on Monday. So we moved it up a day.
The sooner the better is now my attitude. I realize that I have been carrying this enormous weight this last year. So much grief. So much seriousness and sadness. I feel like I have been dying slowly. On Monday, when we lay to rest, the remainder of my mother's ashes, I anticipate that it will not only feel like a relief and give my heart some peace and rest; but that it will also be somewhat like a symbolic death and burial of the last vestiges of the me that was before. The last of the old me. The child that could never imagine this kind of tragedy, or living past it alone. It's time to live. To embrace *living* -with joy. -Even without my mother. I'm kind of like a begrudging little caterpillar...that didn't really want to shed it's cocoon and blossom. I really didn't. I wanted to stay a caterpillar. Comfortable and loved by all of my caterpillar friends and family. But that's not how life worked out. I keep telling myself though that: this is a great opportunity to forge my life into whatever my heart desires. I'm casting off everything that I've ever known. Losing everything. Having my heart and family torn away. But having the space and opportunity to build a new life. Develop deeper relationships with distant family members and making them *not so distant*. -Close even. And I am so grateful for all of the people who have loved me through my darkness. And through my sadness. George, my mother's best friend, has always been a source of encouragement, strength, and laughter; which in my opinion is completely necessary for surviving the Spanish Inquisition. "No one *expects* The Spanish Inquisition" they say...but it happens to us all at one time or another in life. Heartbreak is part of being human. It's part of loving. And I guess it's worth it.
I felt so close to MacArthur today. So lucky that he is my love. And so sheltered from the storm by his love. Jodi put it well, when she said "I'm not the kind of person who believes in God. But if I *was* I would find it amazing that just as one great love of your life leaves...another one arrives." Truer words were never said. And I am so grateful for the grace that God, The Universe, or what-have-you has bestowed upon me.
I plan to go forward with my life, and live in a manor which would make my mother proud. I will be happy. I will have joy in my heart. And I will develop my abilities and contribute something of worth and value to the world around me.
