What Women Do

I figured that it was about time to “check in” on something other than Caden, Baby Kaz II and the multitude of recipes that are filling my freezer.  It is “old news” in this life of mine now, and most of you know but 4 1/2 years ago my mother suddenly passed away.  By suddenly, I mean that I was there in Florida one day taking a mini break from college to help my Dad recover from knee surgery while she was recovering from back surgery.  I was there to bring her home and help get her settled and flew back to Texas a week later with an uneasy feeling that she could really use my help a few days longer.  A hug, a kiss, an I Love You, a thank you, a see you soon and then a phone call the next day that she was gone.  Suddenly.

“They say” that you block out certain things or that your brain purposely forgets painful moments so as not to continue to traumatize itself.  I think that is pretty generous of it.  However, there are quite a few things that are burned into my memory of those days but I swear I was watching myself and not in my body.

- Walking up the stairs in Colter’s parents house when my Dad called.  Know what I said? “What? Oh. It’s okay Dad.  Where are you?  Okay, it’s okay.  I’ll be there soon.”

- I was half in a sundress, with my hair in curlers preparing for my best friend’s wedding shower.  At some point I got the curlers half out.  At some point I got into mismatched sweats to fly back to Florida.  At some point I called that best friend to tell her that I wasn’t going to make it to the shower without telling her why but that I would call and tell her that evening.

– The flight back to Florida that afternoon.  The nicest lady was sitting next to Colter and I.   The nicest lady who wanted to know why we were going to Florida (“My parents…parent lives there.”) and a million other questions related to the trip.  I didn’t have the heart to make her feel bad or awkward so I just danced around it.  I’m sure she was confused when I burst into tears as we were landing because I didn’t want to get off the plane. 

- The fact that it was Dana’s birthday.

It really goes like that through the next couple weeks.  Moments.  Not one continuous memory but distinct memories of middle of the night walks around the neighborhood, endlessly sorting through pictures, lettings others grieve by sitting through all of their stories and memories etc.Moments we talk about and moments that seem too sad to. I’m telling you this not to try and put you in my shoes or in those days, but because when I really lost it though is a very distinct memory.  It was when Dana arrived.  In fact, I ignored her.  I knew that if I acknowledged her it would all be real for both of us so I would just keep my face in my picture bin and pretend she hadn’t just arrived.  When she came over to me ten or so minutes later, we lost it…and then she started neurotically cleaning for the next three days just like Mom would have.

There is a point to all of this.

I told you a few months ago when we lost Dana, not so suddenly that the words just weren’t there for the loss.  There still aren’t.  Knowing that you are going to lose someone and working to accept that as you are watching them become less of themselves is a completely different experience.  It is almost confusing and it is definitely cruel. 

Due to Dan’a relationship with my mother, we always had more of a sisterly relationship ourselves.  So, we picked at each other like sisters and we talked late into the night like sisters.  We could gossip about celebrities or our lives and the support was always there too.  When we lost Mom she stepped into a pseudo mother yet sister role (without stepping on anyone) for us.  She gracefully stepped up even more for my wedding, career woes and the birth of my son.  She worked to keep holiday traditions alive and give us a safe place to talk about mom and family and anything we needed.  For all intensive purposes she made herself Mom for us.  She made herself even more available to us.

What I lost is the friendship of a woman, the companionship of a woman and the way that women can just let it all out and then move on.  What it makes me feel most is lonely.

I have told Colter on several occasions over the past four and a half years but quite often in the past few months that I need to girl talk.  He has since learned that this means that he really just needs to listen (which he always does regardless if it is girl talk or not) and not try to fix it.  He needs to sympathize…or empathize and try to muster up a similar story – without fixing it.  He needs to validate my feelings even if he is then going to tell me I am the crazy one, but always the validation first.  He has to understand that something small feels really big to me in the moment and something that isn’t really important in life still has to be talked about so it can be off my chest and acknowledged in the end that I know it isn’t really important…it just was bothering my mind…hurting my feelings…heavy on my heart.  The real challenge?  He can’t hold a grudge.  He has to listen to the situation, respond and then shake off the conversation.

Why?
That’s what women do.
(Why does anyone put up with us?)

He willingly goes through this process with me because he too loves me unconditionally and he also knows that I am having a lonely moment.  A moment where I just miss them.  A moment that makes him miss them more too and in the spirit of trying to not be sad for ourselves (not sorry…sad…different thing) he will let me girl talk.  Then he will apologize for not being a girl. He is a good man I tell you.

There still aren’t many words for the loss that I, my brother and family are feeling and continue to process.
I know that I don’t tend to sit and mull over it or drown myself in it because the point would be missed.
We Carry On.
What I do know is that we feel it.
For me, in this moment, I feel it in loneliness and girl talk.