Will You be my Mother?

 Hi. It's been a minute since I have felt the urge to write a little something. I do have several of these posts that I have written part way. My second most recent (that I did not publish) is even called "working title." I guess I am sharing that to say that I have had a lot on my mind and not the words to express it.

So, will you be my mother? jk...I mean, unless you want to. 

A couple years ago I had a piece of my art in a show about Heavenly Mother and the piece was entitled "Are You My Mother." The piece was about a longing for a somewhat unknown to me, Heavenly Mother. I created it during the time my own mother was alive but lost to me via Alzheimers. The piece was meant to have a call out to the book "Are you my Mother" by P.D Eastman a classic from my youth.

Highly recommend. I recently had an experience that could have been a page in that book and thought I would share as it has kept me up in these early pre-pre-morning hours. So if you have some space for some thoughts on grief, Easter (the Jesus kind) and pop-culture references, come with me my friend!

It is currently one of my favorite times of year where everything starts to wake up again. At least one time this season I will talk to some kind of flower or leaf bud in a tender tone and say "Hey I see you in there." The symbolism of all the dormant life, springing up from under the ground and on branches all around us is not lost on me one bit. No maaaa'am, I see yooooou—super obvious symbolism pointing at Easter and the resurrected Savior walking out of an empty tomb.

And unfortunately this other guy below who lives rent free in my head this time of year as well...

Curse you pop-cultuuuuuuuuure reference from one of my favorite movies!!! *shaking fist*

At our house, like many others, we have an empty chair at our table. Not just because we are odd numbered over here but, I am spelling this out for you, we gots dead people. As much as I adore the bumper sticker that reads "Don't honk at me my dad is dead." I equally cringe at myself when referring to my dead people as "dead" people. My mom in her final years, when I went on about 457,000+ walks with her or drives through beautiful patches of woods, she would point at every tree and say how beautiful it was. Currently there are so many vibrant tree blossoms. Nate has pointed out several purple ones and said "Oh your mom would looove that one." In the winter however, my mom, about every five seconds would be pointing at trees and in a very concerned and almost mournful tone ask me if it was all dead. "No mom, they are not dead, it's just winter, they are sleeping" and "No mom, they are not dead, they are going to bloom again" over and over "no mom they are not dead...they are not dead...they are not dead." A tender conversation that echoes in my mind regularly.

So, for our Easter meal, like the tradition of many others, we set a place for our loved ones, who, by-the-way I don't think are "sleeping" either. Especially my parents, they are up to all kinds of hijinks no doubt, and when I die eventually, just know if you and I have ever shared a last name or if you are doing something dumb...or fun...I WILL haunt you. I digress. So we set out pictures of them and usually adorn the plate with Easter Lillies and try to think extra hard about the day we will see them again.

Do you have a favorite Christmas song? Of course you do. I mean, you don't even have to be into Christmas for that but, do you have a favorite churchy Easter video? Ah, I might have you there. If you don't, you can borrow mine:

Because of HIM death has no sting. I choose to believe that because of HIM we will be with our loved ones again, but right now, it feels kiiiinda stiiiiiingy—she said while raising her eyebrows and tilting her head to the side.

I have a jacked-up neck. What does that have to do with anything? Perhaps, one might say it stiiiings. Just go with me. How did it get this way? I am not sure. I first remember noting the pain in 2020 while I was homeschooling and failing at first-grade math.Where did I get this injury? I thought maybe it was from the excitement at Maya's birth in 2016 or, maybe it is exacerbated by emotional what-have-you like my big brother's sudden passing in 2018, maybe it was my recent miscarriages, or maybe it really was the first-grade math—it was way weird math I promise. Either way, I have collected every remedy for my jacked-up neck ever since. It hurts, every single day.  I have ordered all the pillows on amazon been to all the chiropractors, physical therapists, changed my diet multiple times and been poked, tapped, blessed, scraped and looked at funny (more than usual). Finally this past snow-storm a couple months ago, landed me in the ER with intense shooting pain going down my left arm. My dad died of a heart attack so every five minutes I think I am having one, its fine. Buuut it was my good ol' jacked-up neck from snow shoveling that apparently made things in my spine start bulging and not in a cute way. 

So, what's my point? Yesterday. Yesterday Nate took off work and drove me to my neck "procedure" that was in the surgical center so it felt a little dramatic. It was the whole bit, your family member waits in a room and watches a screen that shows your associated patient number move down the surgery pipeline. Mine was just a little neck injection procedure right? It was feeling a little bit like a not fun activity I was going to go to all of a sudden. Sharon the nurse brought me to my area and was doing all the things in such a kind manner. Sharon was a bit older than me and it felt like she was taking care of me. Like actually taking care of me, like with care. In my gown and hair-net I announced she could open the curtain and she brought me a blanket and as she was fluffing it in the air to lay it onto my body I said "can you just come with me to my house" and she said "yesss" and then tucked me in like a burrito and patted my feet. For just a minute it was as if I said "will you be my mom?" and she said yes.

In church last week I was thinking about grief. Kinda like my good friend Barbie.

It has been almost 25 years since my dad died, almost 10 years since Maya died, 8 years since Martin died, 6 years since my miscarriages and not 2 years since my mom died. But, what if it was yesterday? I thought to myself, I wish it was Yesterday that my mom died, then I could go home and lay face down on the ground and wail and sob and cry —and other synonyms that mean the same thing. I wouldn't even feel like I have to hide in my closet because I don't want to explain it or downer anyone out. And I wouldn't feel any kind of judgement for myself or grief because it was ...yesterday. And, before you tell me it's ok to grieve however I want, I'ver read it, heard it and said it myself... and still here we are. (Insert heart emoji here that I don 't know how to do on a keyboard because I'm 1000 years old and typing in a blog that looks like it was created in the 90s).

So, yesterday after she tucked me in, I didn't see Sharon again, but I was wheeled away to be surrounded by several medical professionals while I lay face down in an operating room. An also very kind doctor jammed needles in my neck and as I winced when I can only presume he leaned into it, he apologized and told me it was very inflamed in there.  Within minutes I was on my way with a very anti-climactic bandaid, hobbling a bit with Nate to the car. As we began to drive away and I was thinking about how this would definitely score me a day of relaxation, I felt this wave of what I can only explain as grief, or tenderness, or sorrow and I just wept and wept with no explanation for Nate. Ya know how sometimes you cry and then you think of the reasons why you might be crying? Well it felt completely out of nowhere like just a tiny little bit of me was poked and memories were flooding out and down my face and maybe my body was letting go of some hurt it had been hanging on to for safe keeping—She said as she imagined her therapist nodding violently in agreement. 

So, cheers to you Sharon's out there who will be our moms for just a minute with all the tenderness when we didn't know we really really needed it, the doctors that will stab grief out of you, the Nate's that will hold your hand, drive all over the place for you and try to feel bad for your tiny booboo under your wittle bandaid, cheers to my fellows in grief who are feeling the sting and one more cheers of the deepest gratitude to Jesus and the coming day that fear, pain, loneliness, and despair will die. The coming day that sadness, sickness, disability, deformity, darkness, anxiety, war, hatred and even death will die and we all will live again because of Him.

Much love to you all,

your pal Gillian