Posts filed under ‘Mothers’
There are over 1,500 posts on this site now. Some are more popular than others. Searches are driven by information on particular subjects and some by images that have been uploaded to the internet. There is one post that ranks above all the rest everyday, it is the first in ranking bringing in thousands of hits in any month since it’s inclusion in 2010 . It is the photos included in the post that drives the traffic .
I am not sure how you would feel about this “still life” for classwork (?)2003 as having been interesting to so many every day since I first uploaded it . The work was not included in my collage of you or even in the “art show” . I am not sure what the message was if any – just a classwork assignment????? – but it has a following every single day and seemingly the most popular of any of the jpgs I use of yours with nearly every post.
I watched a commercial for Poo- pourri and thought well maybe you were before your time
So many times I have wished I could ask you why or what when looking at your work and so many time each day I miss your humor as I watch this world spinning into chaos and justice fleeting. I wonder what you would say about the current political situation, how you would express visually all that I cannot put into words………..I love and miss you more each day………
This past week has seen Carrie Fisher die and a day later her mother Debbie Reynolds die of what is being called a broken heart.
There has been much too-ing and fro-ing as to whether you can die of a broken heart or Takotsubo cardiomyopathy,
also known as transient apical ballooning syndrome, apical ballooning cardiomyopathy, stress-induced cardiomyopathy, broken-heart-syndrome and simply stress cardiomyopathy, is a type of non-ischemic cardiomyopathy in which there is a sudden temporary weakening of the myocardium (the muscle of the heart). Because this weakening can be triggered by emotional stress, such as the death of a loved one, the condition is also known as broken heart syndrome. It has also been reported in cases of partial drowning. The presence of a trigger such as emotional or physical has been reported in 33% to 100% of the cases.
Just a month and a half after you passed I wrote a post
And I have felt the pain in my chest, it is like a tight band , a crushing and tightening , it interferes with breathing, as if something has stopped my lungs from filling with air, holding ones breath too long underwater is a similar sensation . Just when you think you will drown in the pain and grief you surface , an explosion of tears and sobs pulling you back from the depths, a relief but also knowing that you have also lost an opportunity to be released from the slow suffocation of sorrow that has become your world.
And here I am “living with a broken heart”. How is that possible? Maybe my physical heart was strong, maybe because of my daughter and grandchildren acting as some sort of emotional relief valve – I am still here. If you had told me that would be the case in those first months after you passed I would have said ” not possible this gutting pain of losing you would kill me” . Every day I amazed another day has passed, week, month year and I am still walking upright .
I believe the anger kept me upright, an anger at the despicable behavior at your death and afterwards . For some people faith keeps them going but I know for me it was the combination of anger at “that” family, as well as the need to be there for my daughter and mother has continued to keep me on the planet. I also believe because I can write on this blog pouring out my heart has provided a relief valve of sorts.
What happens should I let go of the anger will my heart finally break; the anger stays because what was done I cannot undo………..
I love you Chris, with all the pieces of my broken heart.
Every time I scroll down on the right side to log in to the admin section of this site I watch as the years , months, days of posting of my life on this blog slide by. The dying days still there , the crushing phone call that started all the pain, the hope, the horror and the vindictiveness of the days after your death.
Another 1st week of November – Houston – the time I dared to breathe- it is there chronicled
“Yesterday was the first restaging of my son after having 6 infusions ( one a week with one week off) for the drug SGN35. The scans have shown clear– he is responding well so far and although he is having trouble with some of the side effects – it looks like the drug is working on the Cancer. “
How untrue that was because a month later you were gone and your remains and any dignity associated with death snatched by selfishness and control by those who never really knew you.
Each month on the third I write about you , it is my therapy, it is my way of telling your story that you lived, were loved unconditionally, made a difference. You won’t go down in any history books, you are all but forgotten and “re written” by “the others” and of those that called you “friend” but you existed- you changed our world, you were loved beyond all tears. That love grows it does not dissipate in a “do over world” of some. My anger doesn’t dissipate.
Some might think I am crazy, crazy in my grief, that could well be. I know this grief that fractures, tears at one, opens wounds daily, will not be denied, anymore than the love of my son can be denied.
I carry within me the six basic human emotions ” happiness, sadness, fear, anger, surprise and disgust.” but to those that have lost a son or daughter mere “sadness, anger ” is not adequate in its description , the fear felt as the dying days were lived through is an abomination in its simplicity.
We are changed, emotions magnified beyond all knowing, unless you have walked where we have walked, reached out helplessly to anyone, anything, any god, the stars , screamed at the enveloping darkness that comes with the terror of knowing the hope is gone you will never understand . We are undone……
And yet it is love that feeds this terrible ache of missing , a love not waning , not forgotten, you my son still have a story to be told and I am trying to find the strength to tell it, a love that transcends the veil.
I have some of your work from Cleveland Institute of Art http://www.cia.edu/
displayed appropriately in most rooms , even the bathroom.
One of your first tries at glass making- the glass frosted and slightly wonky but it holds the Daffodils of spring, red Roses and Lavender of summer and the Chrysanthemums of fall , reminders the seasons and years as they continue to pass.
Your work has brought me comfort, longing, as well as tears. I went through your portfolio in those first “tearing” weeks when we all were so fragmented – one didn’t know where we began and ended, lost in a maelstrom of disbelief and pain. I found the photographs , “another assignment” – A Day in the Life of a College Student. There you were in those photos brushing your teeth, making breakfast – such as it was- all the things that are so everyday- studying , taking care of the garbage ,
playing X- box –
working on projects, having a beer – all there . These simple acts of living archived and not meaning much of anything to anyone else but to us the world.
The wall of your apartment adorned with another photography assignment , and the subject Angela- http://my.clevelandclinic.org/staff_directory/staff_display?DoctorID=16147 less the angelic person her name implies (in my opinion .)
The work showed another side to this young woman – one I came to know all too well during the dying days and afterwards. You captured in the lens of the camera something hidden to the eye. I remember saying to you
“there is a darkness in these photos- Chris and I don’t think her mother would be pleased so I wouldn’t show them to her .
There they are on the wall frozen in the camera lens and time . A part of your day and your life but one I would so like to forget.
I have a day in your life , the simple acts of living, stopped by the camera just as your life was stopped and now we are frozen in the loss of you. In amongst all the projects , drawing, design a very special piece of your work has given to us something that is always lost when someone dies – captured in the amber and gold glass – your breath. This work is cherished above all else because it contains the breath of your body locked in beauty.
We have such a lot of YOU but not enough to take away the pain, only YOU walking through the door once more could do that …. I love you
It has come around once again – your birthday- the day when I first held you outside of my heart- looked at your little screwed up face, smiled down at you in my arms and promised you the world , as much of it as I could give. Excited phone calls to the UK – a boy!!! Nana always wanted a boy – at last she had one.
Another hospital , another birthday , another invasive test – and hope and promises dissolving in our tears.
The trouble with cancer it ignores special days, it ignores a mother’s tears, it just does what it is good at doing ……….. and on your birthday – a day remembered with such hope it took that memory and took away hope.
I will look for your face and your spirit tomorrow – try to hear your voice in my memory and try not to dissolve completely…
I have no words to describe the depth of emotions that racked my brain and body, surely I couldn’t survive such an onslaught for very long. Anger at the Lombardis and the rest of that “family” , the selfishness and lack of human kindness did pull me back to the surface in part but only for a few hours at a time .
I searched the internet – for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma ( Refractory) I found other lives and mothers who were suffering and had been suffering the same terror of losing their son or daughter. This whole “gutting” because that is what it feels like- you are gutted, left with just a shell of what you once were – flopping about like some fish on a dock, desperately trying to get back to the place of safety , only to be left drying and dying whilst the sun shines above and the footsteps of life echo as they pass you by – unknowing and unseeing- this had to pass didn’t it?
I would read the blogs of mothers who had been “in” the world of grief- or to some “out “ from the time of death and the place of when they had happiness. I looked desperately to read there would be some respite to this maelstrom of emotions, there would be a hope of “getting over”- moving on “finding the so called meaning to “God’s plan” or the “mysterious ways”, hope – that I too would find some crutch or way to get back into a life before.
What I have found, after these months and years, is a place where past and present combine, where the future is no longer looked at or sought after , just maybe a few days ahead- if at all .
I have survived, continued- desperately seeking some comfort and smiles with your sister and nephews, as those two little boys, shine and thrive in the light of innocence. I try to use the strength they give me to take that energy to be strong for your nana and father. There isn’t any strength left for much else- just the anger that rears up from time to time at humankind’s selfishness,the manipulators, lack of truth and hypocrisy, but it is short-lived not enough to bring me back from the past in my present and to a future .
It is with shock sometimes I have to date a document with the today’s date- like a cold bucket of water it brings me back to the present and the reality of now.
There is very little comfort in the past – because it isn’t of the long past where you had a childhood of laughter, dreams, your teenage years , soccer, college , where some comfort and smiles should be found.
No! for me and I know for others who have watched their child die by hours as days turn into weeks – it is those dying days that are the stronger as we turn over and over in our very soul , what we could have done, the what if – even the acceptance – the guilt of letting your child slip away whilst you watched helplessly and continued to be – Oh! logically you know you did everything you could but the child you carried within your body is still there crying out and there is nothing left but to answer the only way you can! I don’t suppose most of the population would understand but there are a few who will…………
“Nothing should be hidden or untouchable , if it is your truth and you stand behind it – no one should be able to silence you”
Bad week ( more and more bad weeks piling up) – for many reasons, the past and 2008 – 2009 decisions made by others that impacted your family in such a devastating way. This old neighborhood , decisions and retribution being visited upon the writings that are my truth by pathetic, aggressive , actions to intimidate by those who read but do not comprehend.
Your dad watering the arborvitae , trying to bring back some loveliness to this old street, screamed at with venom and yes! your mother classified as a
“fu*%ing “white bitch”
. Your poor dad didn’t understand what the hell was happening -I did –it was me and writing yet another post about less than respectful behavior and the lack of accountability in this place you called home . Your sister making sure the incident was documented.
( Photo Source : http://www.rcosf.com/anger-management-do-you-need-a-psychologist/ )
Gavin and Braedyn bearing the brunt of my writings too. No longer am I comfortable having them here due the “the little man with the gun on his hip” another one – shouting obscenities at me on a glorious sunny day as those little innocents stood hand in hand with me showing defiance and protection of their Nog. Then an email full of filth and suggestions , oh and assumed name ( of course) but they forget still trackable to a source. Camera’s around the property ( including the lot that used to be 1125).
Why all the consternation and “waters beating against the bastions” – this blog – which is MY truth and MY writings causing fallout to the ones I love most and hold dear in this world. I feel like I am actually living in a society that has deteriorated to that of the barbarians at the gate.
I miss you Chris , I was deliberating on what I should do- make the blog private- stop writing about Lorain- after all what good comes of it- very little – no accountability – forget Lorain? I actually did forget for about 8 months after you passed -getting on with life in Lorain has not been “healing ” – far from it – has for the most part been depressing, aggravating and too many told you so (s) and putting up with Neanderthalic retributions.
I have failed to help make modicum of difference – too much negative glut diminishes the positive in these neighborhoods. I no longer believe there can be a positive outcome with the likes of the ” do what thou will” is the creed followed.
BUT I know what YOU would have said , because you said it so well
Speech can segregate you from everyone
Ah but I wonder if you would advise me to do this now as the “little man with the gun on his hip” stood there with your nephews spewing his filthy mind onto their little ears.
Yes! I think I know what you would still tell me because of who you were and are
I so wish I could reach out to you , find comfort in those brown eyes , deep voice and broad shoulders, tap into your sense of humour, once again to laugh. I love you and I believe in your words and your work BUT have I the right to put the rest of this family in the way of the cretins????? To BE CONTINUED ?????????