Tears have many meanings

3

May 8, 2013 – Today is my 46th birthday.

It wasn’t a normal birthday.

But then again, what is normal anyway.

The last two birthdays have been…challenging.

Last year we went out for dinner and when we came home we received the news that Kirk’s father had passed away.

May hasn’t been great for a couple of years.

Today was mostly filled with equal or greater sadness, punctuated with moments of laughter and many memories.

I am in Prince George.

Place of my birth.

Place of my mother’s death six months ago.

And in a few days her house becomes the possession of a stranger.

How do you say goodbye?

One item, one moment, one memory, one tear, at a time.

So we are here sifting through her belongings. The things she cherished and loved. And it is our task to decide what we need to keep to retain her memories and respect her life. Decide what needs to move to the lives of others, and how to best distribute things to the best possible advantage of those who most need them.

I arrived two days ahead of my bother.

I am the emotional one.

I needed time to touch things.

Time to laugh.

Last night I found a 2012 calendar with her appointments. Her hair appointments. Her doctors appointments. Her vet appointments. Her Meals on Wheels delivery schedule. Her Bingo runner schedule.

Time to cry.

Time to find cherished recipes among books.

Time to remember.

Today we got up and got busy.

Yes, it is my birthday. But I shoved it aside to deal with the present situation. The need to sift through family belongings before making decisions on letting things go to strangers.

Mom’s three best friends came by today to visit. I had a bit of work to get two of them here.

They didn’t want to intrude.

I didn’t want to deny them a chance to say goodbye one last time to a place they spent so much time with her.

I had been careful to clear out things that weren’t visible. Cupboards were emptied. Drawers were cleared. But the surface stayed intact. Decorations remained. Photos and paintings were undisturbed. I knew they would be as sad as I. It was hard. And there were tears. There were moments of silent reflection. And there were stories that had us laughing.

I asked them to walk around the house and each find some things that would remind them of Mom, things they could take with them to keep her memory alive.

They each found something, and asked if it was ok.

Each item they chose was something I loved.

But it was more important to me that they had something to remember her.

Both individually and collectively they spent more time in this home with her than I did.

I could forgo some treasures for their happiness and memories of friendship.

As they left there were more tears. Hugs. Sadness. Promises. How could something and someone so vibrant be gone?

As they walked down the driveway, on a basically windless day, the wind-chimes in the front tree tinkled.

I will take them home with me.

I don’t believe in god or heaven or spirits. But perhaps Mom’s energy, her photons, her heat…just breezed by for a moment and tinkled those chimes.

I will take them home, to the coast, where the flowers bloom earlier, where she loved the sound of the gulls more than the crows, which she called, snarkily, the Northern songbirds.

As they left we had to jump in our vehicle and head out of town for something important.

The best birthday gift I could have received.

My goofy, wonderful, fabulous, crazy, best friend. She got on a plane at a horrific hour, to fly across the country.

To be here.

For me.

And for her Mom of course.

Her Mom, whom had stood in for her at my Mom’s memorial in November. I had looked up and Betty had looked at me and said “Marne couldn’t make it, so for today, I am Marne.”

Did I mention what a fabulous friend I have?

Her Mom is equally amazing.

But my friend.

Stupid foolish idiot!

What were you thinking?

What a waste of money!

Why on earth would you fly clear across this massive country?

To be here?

Today.

You twit.

I love you dearly.

How did I get lucky enough to have a friend who would do something as stupid as that?

Apparently pretty lucky.

I’ve been dreading this week. But that was a wonderful distraction that I wouldn’t have asked for.

That I tried to discourage.

But I am grateful you utterly ignored my refusal.

I am like my mother in more ways than I care to admit. I don’t like to accept things offered. I feel obligated to reciprocate. I struggle with knowing that sometimes others like to just give. Like I like to. And don’t expect reciprocation.

So I try to accept.

It was a gift to have her here. And I managed to not cry when she arrived.

I don’t know how.

We were all surprised.

Later, my brother and sister-in-law arrived and I wasn’t sure what to expect. It’s hard when you are both grieving and you grieve differently. I think perhaps I was uncharitable. Or maybe he was expecting me to be in worse shape than I was. Two days had provided a bit of time to absorb. He had had ten hours in a truck to prepare.

Breathe.

Remember.

Dinner out.

Muted Happy Birthday to me.

A text from the new owner of mom’s house. Could they stop by with a bottle of wine? Certainly.

A lovely fellow and his girlfriend. He wanted to meet us, to ask about things like the lawnmower. Tentatively. He knew the house was an estate. He didn’t know what he would find in us. We didn’t know what we would find in him. Would Mom’s house go to someone who would care for it the way she did? Appreciate her effotrs?

Turns out…yes.

They came by. We chatted. I asked her if she was from Prince George?

She said no, Dawson Creek.

My brother was speaking to him about something.

She suddenly looked at me and said.. “I knew your mother, I was her hairdresser”

It was like a freight train had hit me.

I am not in the impersonal world of the Lower Mainland. I am in Prince George. I am home, the home I left, but the place where so many people know so many people.

My brother looked across the room and had no idea what was going on as I exited the room in tears.

Damn this is hard.

Chris, the buyer, and Kim, his girlfriend, are wonderful people. Caring, understanding, generous. We shared a bottle of wine and talked.

And occasionally I cried, quietly.

Tears trickling down my cheeks.

Trying desperately to maintain composure.

Not always successfully.

After they left, after my brother and sister-in-law left, Chris texted me and said they understood how difficult it was, and that they appreciated our time, and that had both been where we are currently. Closure is challenging.

And I am so grateful to have the most wonderful, amazing, equally goofy, husband here to support me through all of this.

Quite the birthday.

I spent some time in tears looking around the house. Tomorrow things will start to be truly stripped down. The personalization will start to vanish.

But I spent the final hours of this birthday saying goodbye to Mom and being enveloped in her home.

I cried, hard, after everyone left this evening.

So it was a difficult day, with bright spots to punctuate the sorrow.

And thank you to all of those wonderful people who sent me birthday greetings.

Some of you know where I am and what I am going through.

Some don’t.

But I am grateful for every message I received today, because I read each one with heartfelt thanks.

Normal is what we make it.

I will cry tomorrow, and the next day too probably.

Sunday, when we leave, will be hard.

Mothers Day.

What irony.

Tears have many meanings. Some of them happy. Some of them poignant.

Life is just a collection of random moments that collectively collide into something that may, or may not, have meaning.

Today, there was some meaning, amongst all the random moments.

Love you all.

Hugs.