My blogs are getting written less often which doesn't please me but sometimes there seems to be lots of demands on my time. Sometimes i don't manage my time so well. Sometimes I just need downtime. And sometimes I need to process emotions in other ways. Like when Dane was preparing to leave...to emigrate I suppose. The last few days he was here, when there was the possibility of a private time (possibly lunch) with him, that didn't materialise, I sank low. I grieved, got down on myself. What kind of a mother was I that he was too busy to find time to spend with me? Sandy and Dad had planned a big family dinner (our family and Sandy's family) on the Friday, the night before Dane and Sandy were both scheduled to leave for the States: Dane to live in Tucson and be with Jonathan and Sandy to leave for 6 weeks in Florida. So that was nice. And I sat next to Dane but everyone seemed to leave early and I had nothing to say, emotions too deep, too precarious to say much. I sobbed with aching on the dark drive home after saying bye to Dane in Dad's driveway. His friend Katie scuttled into her van. "I can't watch you say bye to your mom," she said. Of course I cried. Goodbyes dredge up all the other British goodbyes, parent goodbyes and friend goodbyes over the years and I'm overcome with emotion. But I did manage to sputter to Dane while hugging him that this time of him being in town had been a blessing. A real treat. When he was actually on his way the next day, I was working a split shift (both morning and evening) and surprised myself to find that instead of feeling too sad, I felt excited for Dane and Jonathan. This is the way things were supposed to be. They had been apart for so long. However, in those darker days, I painted out my feelings. A couple of interesting things happened, one of which proved to be the inspiration for the painting which was also inspired by the most recent full moon painting in Effy Wild's Moonshine course. I had bought a $2 spiral ring at a craft fair last December and wore it constantly on my pinky finger. I repeatedly lost it, at times for a few weeks, and always found it again, sometimes by actively looking for it, other times by stumbling across it. In the last two weeks or so before Dane left, I lost it and couldn't find it anywhere even though I asked at Lost &Founds. I resigned myself to the fact that it had really been lost this time. My good friend Louise likes to think that someone else has found it and is wearing it now, trusting that it will bring them the same sense of trust and faith that it afforded me. The Monday before Dane left, when I was still full of hope for some alone time with him, I bought myself a new bronze ring. This one doesn't fall off anywhere. And it has a cool energy. Perhaps it's a far reach but I took it that the spiral ring symbolised Dane leaving so it seemed fitting that I lost it close to when he left town. It symbolised a letting go and I painted it into my picture, spirals raising skyward from my left hand fingers. I put a heart on the woman's sleeve (she represents me of course) as I felt I was too full of emotion and perhaps scaring Dane off because of that. But I wrote "Au revoir" on it, finding the meaning of 'until we meet again' extremely comforting. The woman holds out her right hand to gather all the beautiful silver gifts (Dane coming here to live back in his hometown for a while) while realising that the gifts also cause tears. But her left hand is open realeasing everything that is meant to be released, what is meant to be, the best for everyone, showing a spiral connectedness. The painting was incredibly soothing and healing for me, allowing me all my feelings yet also allowing the process of healing to take place. The words above her head say (in order): ALLOW * PROCESS * LET GO * TRUST
The other thing that happened was really interesting. Just when Dane and I discussed plans about him moving back while Jonathan was in Tucson, I was ready to start a new gratitude book and had chosen the one from Hawaii that Dane had sent me for my birthday last year. But when I knew he was going to be closer by, I switched to a different journal, choosing to keep him closer with the Hawaii one when he was further away. The one I chose lasted until he moved away, leaving only one page. So when he moved, i was ready to start a new journal and of course chose the Hawaii one to keep him close just a little longer. In all this, as I mentioned in my last post I think, I was worried that Dad, who had now lost two people very close to him at the same time, would be super-needy and revert back to the daily calling at 3:30. But the absolute loveliest thing happened. He suggested going out for dinner one night, just the two of us. Dad never eats out. I eat out all the time. So that alone was interesting. And we went to Applebees and had a delicious dinner (Dad, who eats barely nothing, ate 3/4 of a large bowl of pasta plus a small loaf). We had a good chat and he said some thoughtful things which touched my heart. He mentioned that he feels a little overwhelmed by how well things are going with Sandy, how quickly his life (himself even!) has turned around and that he feels like he's on a fairground ride. i could understand all this. Then he mentioned that, although he knew it would sound strange, he wished that Mam could be with him on this ride, that she could see how happy he was but also that she could know that he wished they could have had the same freedom. I understood exactly what he meant. I love Sandy and have no reservations about how good she is for Dad but at first especially I found myself wishing that Dad could have been so flexible and 'daring' with Mam all these years, and in her last few years especially. I understood why and know that as people age together, they may tend to stick to the tried and true ways. For Dad to be able to feel and express that to me, seemed like a huge breakthrough. I told him, as I have before, that I think Mam would be very happy for him and that she would like Sandy. We walked together across the dark parking lot, sharing such views, Dad shining the way from the flashlight on his cane. And the night seemed brighter. And I was reminded of how amazing life can be with its assortment of emotions and surprising twists and turns.
2 Comments
maggie p
11/13/2018 02:50:44 pm
Life is a roller coaster just gotta ride it (from a song) big hugs Souley xx
Reply
Sue Blott
11/15/2018 11:01:53 pm
Thanks, Souley. Wise words. 💖 xxxx
Reply
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWelcome! I'm Sue Blott: a writer of all things, a poet at heart, mom, wife, daughter, step-mom, grandma, tea drinker, tai chi-er, mystic, artist, dreamer...and now a blogger! This is my world. Categories |