Computing ME and the Intensity of a Mother’s Love
I have not downloaded the Dragon Software–
coward that I am , especially due to my once or should I say many times experiences of being bitten by technology. I don’t want to do anything which may mess with the latest expensive desk top and my myriad of files ( even though I can’t easily access them – thank you Windows 8!!!!). I decided instead to “persuade” my husband to download it to his lap top- he only uses it for recipes and solitaire anyway :). Knowing my penchant for wrecking technology he is understandably hesitant, although he did say
“Yeah, Ok but it will have to wait – I can’t find the microphone- I thought I had it in the box” –
As mentioned, I wanted to make a start on one of three books I have in mind .
I will start the old-fashioned way
until he gets around to “finding???” and downloading the dragon .
However, as I started on – page one- that has not worked out too well. The writing follows the direction of the “ME of the moment” that is in control of my emotional state. I started as defensive me, then angry me, depressed me, wounded me, apathetic me, logical me and then puddle me. The fragmented “ME” -I am now- all had a hand in the writing and editing and therefore it was a jumble. The 1st page has been revised more times than a politician’s platform . I can’t make up my mind and neither can my writing.
I feel inadequate, out of my depth in this instance . I thought possibly if I could “talk” the story first and edit later I might be able to make some sense when it came to a direction and editing.
I tend , because of the blog and many years of a column, to edit as I write. This isn’t going to work in this case- I am too much a part of the story. I am not a mere observer. I am a mother first , a mother who has outlived one of her children – there is a blame, a guilt a questioning of life or faith of everything that was “before” my son died , changing the ME.
I was checking my searches this morning and the search –
how intense is a mother’s love
brought the person to the following post:
At that time, just weeks after my son died, I received a letter in my dead son’s clothes from my son’s “bride” the “healer”????? Angela Marie (Lombardi) Ritchey DO who made my love for my son something of a negative which “blinded me to who my son was” . I replied to Dr. Angela Ritchey in an open post-
The wounded me , shaken me and just trying to “live and get through the days “me due to the loss of my son found it cruel and incredulous she would try to taint the memories I shared with my son. I refused to let her take anything more of him, she and her family had done enough.
Hence the rise of the “anger me” and the “bitter me“!
Since that time the “questioning me“ questions intent and the worthiness of some in the supposed healing profession.
I have realized, after these many months, the death of my son has not stopped my love for him, it is undying; if anything it grows with each “memory that should have been” is missed.
The love continues , but the love given to the son or daughter who is no longer among us has no outlet , no recipient. When Chris died , the part of me who was Chris’s mother died too. The other me– the daughter , the wife , mother of Nikki, grandmother of her children still lives and loves but I am fragmented from the “whole” . It is hard to find which “ME” will write the story but it will be “truth” no matter the ME .
Now whilst my husband is otherwise occupied I am going to look for that microphone !
Entry filed under: a Cow -elle opinion, Chris Ritchey, death, Doctor/Physician, grief, Love, Mothers, personal opinion, writers and writing. Tags: Angela ritchey DO, Christopher D. Ritchey, christopher ritchey lorain, grief, Lombardi-Lorain, medical profession, mothers and sons, parallel writing.