I didn’t forget

Lea keeps looking at my blog to see if I’ve written anything new. We talked this morning, and she asked me if I’m “forgetting to write a new post.”  She’s referring to my last post entitled “You can’t remember everything, Mom”.  Others do this, too, I’ve discovered.  (Thanks for the phone calls, everyone.  I can’t wait to see you and your family, Jeannie!)

No, I haven’t forgotten to post something new, I simply haven’t enough energy to sit still.  Funny…that sitting still can take so much energy…I can hardly bare to expend the calories, but it’s true.  Sitting still means using energy to feel, and feeling is an immediate exchange of energy…one that doesn’t come easily when I’m exerting so much of it just to stay in the “now”.

I sat still this last Saturday, December 27.  This would have been my mom’s 81st birthday, and I spent the day in my pajamas, in front of the television, under a bunker of blankets on the couch, with three books that sustained me between naps, commercials, and movies too awful to be viewed (but I watched anyway).  In the old days, I might have called my mood on this day “depressed”, but now I call it “sitting with myself”…in other words, “feeling my losses and accepting that it freakin’ hurts”.  

Rarely have I experienced loneliness.  I’m one of the lucky ones.  Ha.  The lucky ones.  No one who hasn’t lived my life, or one so similar we might call the mystics into question – would think of my life as lucky.  But, I do.  Because, I am.  Lucky.  If you don’t believe in luck, call it something else.  Call it…fortunate…privileged…coincidental…even blessed.  Why?  I ask myself this question often, as I’m counting the reasons to feel lucky.  I have plenty of reasons to feel cursed, but I rarely give cursedness the time of day.  Curse cursedness.

My friends and family have afforded me the most amazing experience of loving them, and life, in a search for beauty and acceptance.  Beauty, because it bridges those gaps when we can’t find worthy causes to put on our armor and fight – and for those of us who are warriors at heart, this is our mission.   And, acceptance, because it makes sense in a world of difference, where your ceiling is my floor, so to speak – and for those of us who are mediators, this is our mission.  I am blessed with these important people’s world views, that have influenced mine.  I am blessed with measuring sticks of the metaphorical kind, for I do not always have the right words to express my feelings.  I am blessed with an above-average facility for language, though I’m dreadfully bereft of this gift when writing here.  I am blessed with memories of my lost loved ones who contributed so much to the person I am now, whether you like me or not…I like me, and they did…and do.

Sometimes I forget to breathe, but I don’t forget to remember all of you.  I remember those quiet nights when we talked about who we would become; those awful, stark mornings when Lea wanted to play Jimi Hendrix for us and we jumped into our work clothes and got on the road; those poignant conversations on our many patios; those bleak trips to the grocery store with too little money in our wallets; those rock concerts after which we talked for hours about the music, the musicians, and the future of music; those journeys into the dark crevasses of our vivid imaginations; those months when Nat was in the hospitals and you visited us; those awe-inspiring sunrises when everything was possible; those afternoons sitting near the ocean’s edge with our toes naked and aching for a bit of salty spray; those cups of coffee, packs of cigarettes, and long discussions of what if’s, and Owen reminded us of the what’s so’s.  I remember it all.  I just don’t know where my keys are, and right now…I don’t care.  Because, I remember you.  All of you. 

So, no, I didn’t forget to write.  I forgot to remember that you’re checking in on me, on us, and for many of you, this is our new postal address.  No stamps required.  Just a point, a click, and a hope.  Thank you for loving us enough to remember to check.  I won’t promise a consistent, routine appearance in this medium, but I will promise to write when I can.  Sometimes, I’m just sitting with it, and that means my mind is writing, but my hands aren’t.  The hamster’s wheel is spinning, the clock is ticking, I’m breathing, and remembering.

Song for the night:  In My Life, The Beatles (John Lennon was an icon in Owen’s life.  I was never certain why (though he was a favorite of mine), except for the music…but there was something more.  Untimely death, perhaps.  Owen was enamored of lives cut short – and Lennon’s was done before Owen was born.  I posted this song sometime last year when I was reminded that Emmitt and I particularly loved this song after Daddy died.  The lyrics say it all, really, don’t you think?)

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~ by Linda on December 31, 2008.

3 Responses to “I didn’t forget”

  1. That was worth waiting for!
    You are worth waiting for.
    I cherish the things you do remember and the things we remember together.
    I also cherish you and will always check in even if I can’t see your thoughts I know you are thinking and remembering.
    PS your keys are near your laptop on the floor by your bed.

  2. Linda: Here I am-still remembering to check on you, to see if you have written something, to get me thinking deeper still. You are worth waiting for, as Lea said!

    What a year this has been. I guess we should all get a medal for surviving it. May the coming year bring more insight, understanding, and compassion. (And yes, more rest.)

    I love you from a distance, and I remember too! Lonnette

  3. Happy New Year … not said flippantly or lightly. I hope this coming year you can enjoy inner pece, cherish wonderful memories, and stay lucky.

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