Today is my birthday. I am 34. This surprisingly hasn't been all that difficult for me so far, but give me some time. I'll hit a rough patch about having my first birthday without Naki around to pinch me. But I'm grateful for the calm unemotional moments. Birthdays for he and I were pretty darn simple. We just wanted to feel special on our birthday, which for us didn't require any gifts but instead thoughtful acts of kindness and consideration that would make us feel either kingly or queenly, depending on whose day it was. And although I miss him terribly, I have felt queenly today, for sure. I love all of you who have tried so hard to love me today.
I just love this time of year. Last fall I planted a lilac bush, a different flowering shrub whose name I'm forgetting right now...plum something, a peach tree, a spring snow crabapple tree, two flowering hawthorn trees, a maple tree, and two entire perennial beds. I keep finding excuses to go out and make the rounds, checking on everybody to see whose sprouted what buds...some are cute and fuzzy, others and smooth and bright. I. Love. It. Something about seeing my plants grow fills me up. I've already fertilized, and can't wait to see all of them start their spring time show. Now, if I'd just remembered last fall that I had an entire bag of bulbs in my garage that I'd bought before Naki died, and then remembered to plant them, I'd get to enjoy those too. But, there's always this fall for planting and next spring for enjoying.
I think that's what I find so enjoyable about all this planting. The plants are alive. We are alive. There are many parallels to draw from the two and experiencing both of them. I'm a bit drowsy, and really want a nap on my birthday! So I won't go into deep comparisons right now, but I know from reading about my plants, knowing the care they require in order to reach their full capacity, and knowing that they will continue to live as long as I provide for their needs, that I find much of that similar to me. And similar to me even BEFORE Naki died, and all the more now that he's gone.
Death is imminent. We know better than we've ever known before that it is inevitable and essential to our progression beyond mortals into immortality. The other night at dinner the girls were discussing my upcoming birthday. Some of the girls were joking saying that I would probably reach 82 years old before I die. Fine by me, I said, mentally pleased with that figure since I myself have planned that I'd like to live no longer than 93 years of age...3 chunks of 2o years from the time Naki died. (I'm all about the planning...) I figured I could handle things better if I knew that time frame I was dealing with. If I die before that, SWEET! And if I make it past that, I'll be truly pissed. So when they mentioned 82, I was good with that number.
I started discussing with them the fact that we as a family have clearly learned that death is something we cannot work our way around. We cannot avoid it. It will happen to those we love no matter how much we will it not to. I told them that we were lucky to have each other to listen to and to learn from right now. We needed to not take anyone or any conversation for granted as we have learned that we never know how long we'll have those earthly opportunities. I told them that they needed to realize that someday Mom will die, too. And that it is essential that people learn what they can from their parents while they're still alive, if possible. Malia balked. Completely balked, at that concept. She succinctly told me that if I died, she'd climb to the tallest place possible and hang herself.
That's right. My daughter, my sweet sweet Malia, told me that she'd most likely want to hang herself if I died. She'd finally let some part of her emotions come out, for once. I knew that the environment of our family meals was not conducive to the conversation that was obvious we needed to have, and told her that I would love to talk to her about that after I put the babies to bed.
We eventually met up on her bed that night, revisiting her thoughts from earlier. I asked her why she felt that way, and she told me that it was quite simple. If both Dad and I were dead, then she wouldn't want to be living...she'd want to be where we were. We worked through those thoughts. What had at first shocked me now became obvious and clear to me. She was saying aloud what I've been thinking for the last 5 months. I don't really want to kill myself, but I definitely don't want to live anywhere where Naki isn't. It's all about the pain your feeling, and the thought of feeling that pain continually for an indefinite amount of time. Malia, you are not alone in your thoughts. It's totally and completely normal to feel and think that way. But know that as time passes, you'll find that you have adventures ahead of you, people you haven't even met yet, that will be recipients of your love, whom will help you feel a portion of what you will miss when both Dad and I are gone. There is life to be lived, as unbelievable as that may be to think, when you feel like there is not. I feel that way every day. I'm shocked to find another day is here, thrilled that another day has gone, and wonder what lies ahead. I don't know how it's possible, but I am trying to have faith that where I feel dead inside will someday feel full of life.
I took these pictures last April (even though the date shows it's 2008, it's really 2009) of one of the grape vines in my neighbors yard that grows along and over our fence in the backyard.
At the end of the fall these grape vines are pruned and trimmed back, readying them for the new growth that will happen in the spring. All winter they look like a bunch of dead twigs. And then, in Spring, I find these drops of water coming out of their pruned ends.
It shocks me every time I see them. How could something like water, so essential to life and so alive, come out of something that looks so dead? It is a baffling miracle. I'm holding onto the hope to have that same experience sometime in the next 60 years, (No later, or else!), that I will feel alive and full of life once again.
I just love this time of year. Last fall I planted a lilac bush, a different flowering shrub whose name I'm forgetting right now...plum something, a peach tree, a spring snow crabapple tree, two flowering hawthorn trees, a maple tree, and two entire perennial beds. I keep finding excuses to go out and make the rounds, checking on everybody to see whose sprouted what buds...some are cute and fuzzy, others and smooth and bright. I. Love. It. Something about seeing my plants grow fills me up. I've already fertilized, and can't wait to see all of them start their spring time show. Now, if I'd just remembered last fall that I had an entire bag of bulbs in my garage that I'd bought before Naki died, and then remembered to plant them, I'd get to enjoy those too. But, there's always this fall for planting and next spring for enjoying.
I think that's what I find so enjoyable about all this planting. The plants are alive. We are alive. There are many parallels to draw from the two and experiencing both of them. I'm a bit drowsy, and really want a nap on my birthday! So I won't go into deep comparisons right now, but I know from reading about my plants, knowing the care they require in order to reach their full capacity, and knowing that they will continue to live as long as I provide for their needs, that I find much of that similar to me. And similar to me even BEFORE Naki died, and all the more now that he's gone.
Death is imminent. We know better than we've ever known before that it is inevitable and essential to our progression beyond mortals into immortality. The other night at dinner the girls were discussing my upcoming birthday. Some of the girls were joking saying that I would probably reach 82 years old before I die. Fine by me, I said, mentally pleased with that figure since I myself have planned that I'd like to live no longer than 93 years of age...3 chunks of 2o years from the time Naki died. (I'm all about the planning...) I figured I could handle things better if I knew that time frame I was dealing with. If I die before that, SWEET! And if I make it past that, I'll be truly pissed. So when they mentioned 82, I was good with that number.
I started discussing with them the fact that we as a family have clearly learned that death is something we cannot work our way around. We cannot avoid it. It will happen to those we love no matter how much we will it not to. I told them that we were lucky to have each other to listen to and to learn from right now. We needed to not take anyone or any conversation for granted as we have learned that we never know how long we'll have those earthly opportunities. I told them that they needed to realize that someday Mom will die, too. And that it is essential that people learn what they can from their parents while they're still alive, if possible. Malia balked. Completely balked, at that concept. She succinctly told me that if I died, she'd climb to the tallest place possible and hang herself.
That's right. My daughter, my sweet sweet Malia, told me that she'd most likely want to hang herself if I died. She'd finally let some part of her emotions come out, for once. I knew that the environment of our family meals was not conducive to the conversation that was obvious we needed to have, and told her that I would love to talk to her about that after I put the babies to bed.
We eventually met up on her bed that night, revisiting her thoughts from earlier. I asked her why she felt that way, and she told me that it was quite simple. If both Dad and I were dead, then she wouldn't want to be living...she'd want to be where we were. We worked through those thoughts. What had at first shocked me now became obvious and clear to me. She was saying aloud what I've been thinking for the last 5 months. I don't really want to kill myself, but I definitely don't want to live anywhere where Naki isn't. It's all about the pain your feeling, and the thought of feeling that pain continually for an indefinite amount of time. Malia, you are not alone in your thoughts. It's totally and completely normal to feel and think that way. But know that as time passes, you'll find that you have adventures ahead of you, people you haven't even met yet, that will be recipients of your love, whom will help you feel a portion of what you will miss when both Dad and I are gone. There is life to be lived, as unbelievable as that may be to think, when you feel like there is not. I feel that way every day. I'm shocked to find another day is here, thrilled that another day has gone, and wonder what lies ahead. I don't know how it's possible, but I am trying to have faith that where I feel dead inside will someday feel full of life.
I took these pictures last April (even though the date shows it's 2008, it's really 2009) of one of the grape vines in my neighbors yard that grows along and over our fence in the backyard.
At the end of the fall these grape vines are pruned and trimmed back, readying them for the new growth that will happen in the spring. All winter they look like a bunch of dead twigs. And then, in Spring, I find these drops of water coming out of their pruned ends.
It shocks me every time I see them. How could something like water, so essential to life and so alive, come out of something that looks so dead? It is a baffling miracle. I'm holding onto the hope to have that same experience sometime in the next 60 years, (No later, or else!), that I will feel alive and full of life once again.
