November 23, 2012
More so
Yesterday was Thanksgiving. Getting through the day was not as hard for me as I feared, (speaking only for myself). Maybe it was because I steeled myself for the “big day”… the first holiday… By “steeling myself”, I do not mean that I turned off my emotions. I mean that I prepared myself to accept whatever came, to fall apart or not. My default behavior is to try to make other people feel comfortable. I recognized this and decided I did not need to do this. I could let those around me deal with my emotions however they needed to. But the big emotional crash didn’t happen. To be sure, I thought of Kat often and I missed her terribly, but yesterday was not overwhelming for me.
Today, however, the grief feels particularly tender. I am not sure why. It has been two months since we walked her home and the date kind of sneaked up on me. I am sure the slower pace of the holiday weekend has played a part as well. For whatever reason, I am missing my baby girl. Sure, she was 26 years old, but she will always be my baby.
I have written before how this grieving process seems strange and unfamiliar. The unfamiliarity is mostly about how it comes when I least expect it. As time goes on, I am finding a familiarity too. I have felt these feelings before. Kat’s death is not my first loss. It is by far the most significant loss ever in my life. The feelings resulting from the loss of Kat are echos of much smaller, less significant losses. And why not, I am the same person I was. I did not change when Kat died so much as I became “more so”. The little things feel bigger. The irritations are more irritating. The time flies by quicker. The joys are more precious.
Seeing the view from the end of Kat’s life made the important things so much sharper for me. I still get lost in the daily activities of life, but I don’t stay lost for as long. I recognize the BS more quickly; the “important” have to’s and ought to’s. I am reminded that life is short and precious. May that awareness be ever present.
November 13, 2012
Bananasaur?
If I don’t write it down I’ll forget it… Silly as this is…
Kat showed up in my dreams last night. She was about 5 or 6 years old. I was sitting beside her bed. She was on the bed on her knees with her head hanging down over the side. She asked me to explain to her again how bananasaurs evolved.
November 7, 2012
Voting for Kat
I value quiet.
I value thoughtful, heartfelt words whether I agree with them or not.
I abhor the noise of commercials on TV or radio. When I watch network TV, which is rare, I skip the commercials. I rarely listen to commercial radio. So I haven’t seen any political ads. None!
BUT… I do read Facebook and the senseless vehemence from my friends on the left and the right has been ridiculous. Do folks just turn off their brains when they talk politics? (Interesting TED talk on why).
I did my homework, taking time to read up on the candidates from the local judges to the national offices. I thoughtfully created my cheat sheet and had it ready today with all the choices clearly marked except President. I simply could not decide who to vote for for President. That statement will likely cause half of my friends to be shocked one way, the other half will be shocked the other way and the third half won’t even read this, so they will never know.
On the way to the polling site, I thought of my good friend, Dawn, who is suffering from cancer. (Have I told you how much I hate cancer)? I wondered if Dawn had been able to vote. It is impossible for her to get out these days, but I hoped she was able to cast her ballot. My thoughts drifted to Kat and how she would not get to vote in this election… another addition to the long list of injustices from cancer.
Kat was passionate about a few topics and some of them were political. As ambivalent as I was about my choice, there was no question about who she wanted to be the President of the United States. Right there in my car on the way to the poll, I decided that I would let Kat decide my vote for President. I never felt better about a political choice.
Kat, I miss your passion about making the world a better place. I miss you.
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