[ THIS IS HOW YOU REMIND ME ]
I feel.. sad. I feel like I want to say "bereft", but that's way too over-dramatic, so I'll just stick with sad.
A million thoughts are swimming through my brain, so.. when given an empty house, and no one’s shoulder to cry on, I opt for this. I’m hoping just “saying” it all helps, even just at least a little.
I’ve been worried about my mom for awhile now, because I know she’s been pushing herself beyond the limits of human endurance. Eventually … endurance ends.
Friday my mom left work early and told me she was exhausted. That doesn't sound too unusual unless you know my mom. She never leaves work early. And she never admits to exhaustion. Nothing is ever too much for her.. until lately.
Lately, (EVERY DAY!), I've heard her say she's tired, or she can't handle this, or she wants to cry, or many other similar things which add up to it just being too much. Not to say that she's weak.. I mean 12-14-hour days 6-7 days a week for months on end will... well... pretty much kill a person.
Friday we drove into work together and we were talking. I told her she needs to ease up for her own good. I tried to remind her that you just never know. Things happen. Your body gives you subtle hints, then gets more straightforward, then if you still deny and ignore it WILL smack you down and DEMAND some rest. Or quit. Sometimes, .. it just quits. It doesn't even put up the fight anymore - it just stops. You win, except, you lose. And everyone loses you. And that's that.
During that talk with Mom, I tried to remind her that.. you know, if something (bad) happened to her, work would still survive. It'll always be there. Files will never be all done and the desk completely empty and no emails and work done. But people, they can be all used up. Their time can be completed. And then, that’s that. And work? Work will replace you. No matter how amazing of a paragon you are. Work will get one, two, three, hell maybe seven people to do what you did, and they’ll maybe miss you, but you’ll still be gone, and work will still be there to be done, no matter how many hours/days/weeks/months/years you made work your #1 time-priority.
Work will replace you.
But I? Can not. Your kids can’t replace you. Nobody will take your place in the family, or fill the spot, the gaping black hole, that you leave.
And this weekend, that was (once again, in yet another example) reminded to us yet again.
The way my family works is, there’s a million of us. A million brown peoples living in this greater central fl orlando area…… a ton of us. And a million cousins. And never do you wonder who you could hang out with on the weekends, cause there’s a cousin or a dozen you know you have. As your friends, your “people”, your Family. Even new people, just people within the community, they become family. Your cousin's friends become like your own cousins, and their parents become as siblings with your parents. You call them Aunty and Uncle and they are, just the same as actual family. They are your family.
So when something happens to them, it happens to you, too.
This morning my mom called me.. woke me up, actually.. to tell me that an “Aunty” of mine was … “Not doing so good”. What?!! She was doing perfectly normally fine yesterday, or Friday evening when my sister played volleyball with this lady’s 2 sons on the team all my cousins play on. But apparently lastnight, her husband wokeup because she was having breathing problems, and tried to wake her up. Now, tonight, she still hasn’t 'woken up', and I guess she never will.
It’s crazy, really. How a husband can go to sleep Saturday night and have a wife, and boys can have a mother. And you wakeup in the morning and someone’s in a coma. And at lunchtime they tell you the CT scan shows ZERO brain activity. And by the evening, you can’t even eat dinner because who can bother to eat when someone has no wife, and 2 boys have no mom anymore.
It’s… unthinkable.
It’s reality.
It hurts.
And, it makes me really really really sad.
And scared.
And sad.
And I was assigned to Grandma duty all day, which is probably the easiest task. Go stay with Grammy. Occupy her. Make her feel secure, and loved, and share your strength so she doesn’t have time to dwell on the scariness of the fragility of human mortality. Easy job. Show Grammy love. Hold her hand. Watch cheesy movies. Shelter her from the graphic details of frantic medical tests which all attempt to preserve and stimulate ANY kind of response from the patient and hope for the 50 or so people hovering in the hospital and even more just waiting for word.
I had the easy part.
My aunt and uncle (whose house we were at) came home to make dinner and I left to come to my own house. I have to prepare for my work week, and haven’t even really been home all weekend. I talked to my mom on my drive home.
It wrecked me.
I mean, I felt a mess before, but .. that… wrecked me.
My mother.. said she felt it was too much. My mother said she had to leave for a little while. My mother, all too fragile indestructible lioness herself admitted her exhaustion and overwhelmedness to me. I could hear how broken down she was. Then I talked to her again just now, and I guess she’s gonna just watch a tv show for a few minutes to kind of regroup a little, then head back to the hospital to be there in support of The Big Decision.
It’s been like over 7 hours now with no nothing, and no reason to think anything will change.
Except, everything has changed.
And yet, nobody guarantees you a life-span. Nobody says you get 0-80. Or 0-100. you just know you start and end. And just (if you’re paying attention) try to make what comes in between something really… something.
Even still, it makes me sad.
What is it about us (silly humans) that assumes the blessing of a good run guarantees us a long run?
I guess we can hope.
At least, until we can’t anymore.
Because sometimes, it’s just time to say: the end.
Game over.
I feel really selfish, too, for thinking so much of my own mother.
And I feel SO DAMN SAD for those boys.
And it reminds me. It reminds me of how someone I was super-close to a long time ago lost his mom in sudden-ish circumstances. He had two young brothers, and I remember that look in their eyes that’s never left them.
Amazing how ironic it is that you still get reminders of things you could never forget.
I was so close to him and them and really understood their pain, and I feel it for these boys now. It hurts. The shock and loss of it all just hurts. And yet you’d hate someone you love to linger and suffer, but to suddenly be gone just hurts so bad…
And it reminds me. It reminds me of all the unspent time I still want with my mom. It reminds me of all the unspent time I still want.
I mean, I think I’ve had a good run, but I sure wouldn’t mind it if this was only.. eh… a third?... of the way home, ya know?
But that’s just it. You gotta live like you just never know. Because the only thing for sure, is that: You Don’t.
=\
A million thoughts are swimming through my brain, so.. when given an empty house, and no one’s shoulder to cry on, I opt for this. I’m hoping just “saying” it all helps, even just at least a little.
I’ve been worried about my mom for awhile now, because I know she’s been pushing herself beyond the limits of human endurance. Eventually … endurance ends.
Friday my mom left work early and told me she was exhausted. That doesn't sound too unusual unless you know my mom. She never leaves work early. And she never admits to exhaustion. Nothing is ever too much for her.. until lately.
Lately, (EVERY DAY!), I've heard her say she's tired, or she can't handle this, or she wants to cry, or many other similar things which add up to it just being too much. Not to say that she's weak.. I mean 12-14-hour days 6-7 days a week for months on end will... well... pretty much kill a person.
Friday we drove into work together and we were talking. I told her she needs to ease up for her own good. I tried to remind her that you just never know. Things happen. Your body gives you subtle hints, then gets more straightforward, then if you still deny and ignore it WILL smack you down and DEMAND some rest. Or quit. Sometimes, .. it just quits. It doesn't even put up the fight anymore - it just stops. You win, except, you lose. And everyone loses you. And that's that.
During that talk with Mom, I tried to remind her that.. you know, if something (bad) happened to her, work would still survive. It'll always be there. Files will never be all done and the desk completely empty and no emails and work done. But people, they can be all used up. Their time can be completed. And then, that’s that. And work? Work will replace you. No matter how amazing of a paragon you are. Work will get one, two, three, hell maybe seven people to do what you did, and they’ll maybe miss you, but you’ll still be gone, and work will still be there to be done, no matter how many hours/days/weeks/months/years you made work your #1 time-priority.
Work will replace you.
But I? Can not. Your kids can’t replace you. Nobody will take your place in the family, or fill the spot, the gaping black hole, that you leave.
And this weekend, that was (once again, in yet another example) reminded to us yet again.
The way my family works is, there’s a million of us. A million brown peoples living in this greater central fl orlando area…… a ton of us. And a million cousins. And never do you wonder who you could hang out with on the weekends, cause there’s a cousin or a dozen you know you have. As your friends, your “people”, your Family. Even new people, just people within the community, they become family. Your cousin's friends become like your own cousins, and their parents become as siblings with your parents. You call them Aunty and Uncle and they are, just the same as actual family. They are your family.
So when something happens to them, it happens to you, too.
This morning my mom called me.. woke me up, actually.. to tell me that an “Aunty” of mine was … “Not doing so good”. What?!! She was doing perfectly normally fine yesterday, or Friday evening when my sister played volleyball with this lady’s 2 sons on the team all my cousins play on. But apparently lastnight, her husband wokeup because she was having breathing problems, and tried to wake her up. Now, tonight, she still hasn’t 'woken up', and I guess she never will.
It’s crazy, really. How a husband can go to sleep Saturday night and have a wife, and boys can have a mother. And you wakeup in the morning and someone’s in a coma. And at lunchtime they tell you the CT scan shows ZERO brain activity. And by the evening, you can’t even eat dinner because who can bother to eat when someone has no wife, and 2 boys have no mom anymore.
It’s… unthinkable.
It’s reality.
It hurts.
And, it makes me really really really sad.
And scared.
And sad.
And I was assigned to Grandma duty all day, which is probably the easiest task. Go stay with Grammy. Occupy her. Make her feel secure, and loved, and share your strength so she doesn’t have time to dwell on the scariness of the fragility of human mortality. Easy job. Show Grammy love. Hold her hand. Watch cheesy movies. Shelter her from the graphic details of frantic medical tests which all attempt to preserve and stimulate ANY kind of response from the patient and hope for the 50 or so people hovering in the hospital and even more just waiting for word.
I had the easy part.
My aunt and uncle (whose house we were at) came home to make dinner and I left to come to my own house. I have to prepare for my work week, and haven’t even really been home all weekend. I talked to my mom on my drive home.
It wrecked me.
I mean, I felt a mess before, but .. that… wrecked me.
My mother.. said she felt it was too much. My mother said she had to leave for a little while. My mother, all too fragile indestructible lioness herself admitted her exhaustion and overwhelmedness to me. I could hear how broken down she was. Then I talked to her again just now, and I guess she’s gonna just watch a tv show for a few minutes to kind of regroup a little, then head back to the hospital to be there in support of The Big Decision.
It’s been like over 7 hours now with no nothing, and no reason to think anything will change.
Except, everything has changed.
And yet, nobody guarantees you a life-span. Nobody says you get 0-80. Or 0-100. you just know you start and end. And just (if you’re paying attention) try to make what comes in between something really… something.
Even still, it makes me sad.
What is it about us (silly humans) that assumes the blessing of a good run guarantees us a long run?
I guess we can hope.
At least, until we can’t anymore.
Because sometimes, it’s just time to say: the end.
Game over.
I feel really selfish, too, for thinking so much of my own mother.
And I feel SO DAMN SAD for those boys.
And it reminds me. It reminds me of how someone I was super-close to a long time ago lost his mom in sudden-ish circumstances. He had two young brothers, and I remember that look in their eyes that’s never left them.
Amazing how ironic it is that you still get reminders of things you could never forget.
I was so close to him and them and really understood their pain, and I feel it for these boys now. It hurts. The shock and loss of it all just hurts. And yet you’d hate someone you love to linger and suffer, but to suddenly be gone just hurts so bad…
And it reminds me. It reminds me of all the unspent time I still want with my mom. It reminds me of all the unspent time I still want.
I mean, I think I’ve had a good run, but I sure wouldn’t mind it if this was only.. eh… a third?... of the way home, ya know?
But that’s just it. You gotta live like you just never know. Because the only thing for sure, is that: You Don’t.
=\