rainbows

There's nothing like the smell of the trees after a really big thunderstorm. Lighting and thunder are not rare in southern Missouri. It's one of the things I miss most being in California.

I associated storms with my dad, but recently I've realized I was only thinking about part of the memory. Every time the skies turned grey, my dad would go out on our front porch. We lived on a VERY steep hill which afforded us a nice view from the front.

the hill is a whole lot steeper than it looks from the road below

When a storm came in, my dad used to stand on the porch to watch the valley below and the hills beyond. And of course I would join him. We'd leave the screen door open so Mom could fill us in on whatever the news was saying - just in case a tornado was coming, although Dad usually called it before it made it to TV. Standing on the porch watching storms, watching my dad watching storms, is as much a part of my childhood as school or summer road trips. Mom would prep the indoors, gathering the candles and flashlights, while we observed the conditions.

If you've never smelled a thunderstorm, you're missing out. There's something incredible about the way the air changes just before the wind comes in. This is especially true when there's a tornado, but we'll save that for another time. Both of my parents loved that smell. I had thought only of my dad on the front porch watching the clouds for so long, but recently I remembered something else.

After every storm that happened during the day, Mama would take me out to the backyard. Through the pinkish tinge of the sky that happens after a daytime thunderstorm, Mom and I would hunt for rainbows. If we saw even the faintest tinge of one, or if it looked like there might be one on the other side of the hill, she'd pack up the truck so we could all chase it. If we couldn't find one, the answer was always that we just couldn't quite see it from where we were standing.

My mom's endless search for rainbows taught me to never be scared of the storm. Every time it rained during the day my first thought was, 'I wonder where the rainbow will be!' I don't know if she did that for me, or if it was just part of who she was - I'd like to believe it was a little of both. What I know is I spent hours in my backyard and in my dad's truck hunting rainbows. I always knew they were the reward that came after a great storm.

~~~~~

In February of this year my incredible chosen family helped me honor the anniversary of my mom's death by celebrating her birthday at her favorite restaurant. Back home, there aren't a ton of options for great food, and Mom's all time favorite was Red Lobster. We decided to go the Sacramento location and make a long Tahoe weekend out of it, which turned out to be exactly what I needed.

You see, after Mom died, I got pneumonia. It gave me the perfect excuse to stay in bed all day for a couple of weeks sleeping and ignoring the world around me. I was too sick to let the grief really sink in. I lay in bed, and I cried - but I never could quite acknowledge whether it was from sadness or from sheer sickness and exhaustion from coughing. So I just existed in my bed. For almost a month.

I pulled myself together just enough to interview with a client who was doing something pretty spectacular. They were looking at ways to better monitor the long term health of clinical trial patients to eventually reduce the ill effects of chemotherapy. It was a little too close to home - Mom had died from long-term complications caused by her chemotherapy and radiation years earlier - but it was the only kind of work I was really capable of doing.

I dove in to my project, and I loved it. I loved my account team, and I started leading some efforts there. I took on a leadership role in our charitable organization. I let my work life fill up all the emptiness I was feeling everywhere else.

As the one year anniversary of Mom's death and her birthday (only 5 days apart) rolled around, I found myself starting to relax and let myself feel a little more. My project was under control, and I had such an amazing support network - we were building up to this 5 day break that was all about my mom - I felt safe.

So I let it all in.

Turns out, it was a little more than I could handle. Once the emotions really start flooding in, it's difficult to control the aperture. The anniversary was Feb 12, and we were celebrating on Feb 17, with a 4 day stint in Tahoe afterward to let me get my bearings. Once we had the date planned, I started letting go. By New Year's I had realized I didn't want to be in the relationship I was in at the time, by January I had pretty much stopped sleeping altogether, and by February I stopped pretending to be okay. On February 12, my best friend and I shared an amazing German dinner in honor of Mama, in which we told stories and showed pictures to our incredible bar manager - who made sure I had plenty of Underberg.

Underberg lets you keep eating (or drinking) after all that heavy food

In those final days before the birthday celebration, I let myself go completely. I couldn't think about anything else. I couldn't sleep for more than half an hour at a time. I wrote a lot - some that I posted here and some that will never see eyes other than mine. But on Mom's birthday, my incredible chosen family - even those who could only join by phone - spent an evening with me that I will never forget. What I will always ALWAYS know, is that I am so blessed to be loved by amazing people. And in true Mom fashion, the evidence is in how much they ate!

this was only half the table

They even supported me grabbing a lobster from the tank without staff seeing!

I can hear my mom's laugh now

A couple of us stayed up until 4 or 5 in the morning talking. Just loving each other. I was so thankful because there was no way I was going to fall asleep. But I did. And the next morning we all got into our cars to drive to Tahoe. I had made it clear I wanted to drive alone. I needed to drive alone. I wanted a couple of hours to myself before the weekend with everyone else. I needed some time to talk to Mama. I left just a little before everyone else. As soon as I got onto 80, this is the first thing I saw.

rainbows never really come out as bright in pictures

This doesn't happen often, but I actually had to pull over because I was both crying and laughing so hard I couldn't really see the road properly. It was just too. damn. perfect.

~~~~~~

I don't know if I believe in an afterlife. I definitely don't think people who die sit around trying to talk to us. I spent several months after my mom died wishing I could talk to her. Wishing so hard I could believe in talking to her. I even tried. I tried some form of prayer - just talking out loud, or even in my head - but I always knew it was bullshit.

I talked to several people about this, and had one who I trust a great deal tell me that she felt very strongly that my Mom was present in some moments. Not hanging around, not some spirit trying to communicate, just present in some moments. I've tried to believe that.

I believe Mama is here because she lives within me. I believe her presence is in my mannerisms, my memories, and the things she has shaped in my behavior. I believe that's how I connect with her. When I break out one of her laughs - her signature deep-voiced "heh heh heh"- I used to cringe, and now I smile with pride. I frequently give myself the terrible relationship advice she would have given me before ignoring it as I always would have. I often look in the mirror and judge myself, and then find myself seeing the beautiful woman my mom was so proud to have raised.

My mom is here now because when I look at this picture of her making this crazy smile, I recall about a thousand pictures of me making that silly over exaggerated smile.

when I make that face I'm usually at least 3 drinks in

My mom lives now because she lives through me.

But for her to be some OTHER thing that can communicate with me? That's absurd.

~~~~~~

So when this rainbow popped up on the highway, I actually thought in my head, "Mama?"

I pushed that away pretty quickly. I did try to talk to her. I stopped myself because it felt stupid, but I spent my hours on the road grieving and celebrating all that I could. By the time I got to Tahoe, the rainbow and the friends had given me this calm hope. I no longer needed to grieve or recover. I spent the next few days enjoying my time and moved on pretty quickly.

As soon as the weekend was over, I switched right back into "normal" mode. We had a couple months left of snow, and then had plans for a pretty epic Tahoe summer. My best friend was getting married and I was planning the bachelorette party. I was selling a new project to a client and delving into fun work stuff. And baseball was starting! Life had so many distractions to offer me!

It really was an epic summer.

And then about 3 weeks ago it started to fall apart. Tahoe summer ended. The wedding was over and all the people went home. And the last straw? The Cardinals lost. And then the Giants. So baseball was over. (I promise there's a post coming about why that matters so much!)

Without those distractions, whatever I'd been feeling before that weekend in February started to settle back in. It really felt (feels?) as if I let myself get swept up in distractions to avoid everything and now that those aren't around I'm finally coming back to the way I felt before that weekend in Tahoe.

I know it was silly to think I could put a cap on my grief in the first place. I know it doesn't work that way. I also know I didn't plan for all the major fun things that had been keeping me excited since then to disappear at the same time.

So things have been a little harder lately. I'm a little more tired than usual. Being social takes more energy. I'm not as focused. I'm not as sure about all of my decisions. And I haven't been feeling great about any of that.

But this past Sunday morning I woke in Tahoe and I stepped outside and I saw a rainbow that felt like it was shooting right of the ground in front of me. I know that doesn't really mean anything other than what I take from it. I know what I'm taking from it, though, is that whatever I'm feeling right now is okay. It's part of the process. The choices I'm making now are good, they are solid - because they are grounded in love and pain and wisdom and hope. I know there's a rainbow waiting on the other end of the storms, and that's only part of what makes them beautiful.

But my first thought, with no hesitation, was...

"Thanks, Mama."

an unusual birthday present

I picked out a casket like I would shop for any other large purchase. I went into it thinking I wanted a rich wood casket. Unfortunately, caskets are ridiculously expensive. The cheapest wood option was over almost four thousand and was not what I would call “rich”-looking. The cheapest casket of all was just under a grand and was literally a dark black metal box. It looked like an ugly safe. The funeral director patiently walked me through the catalog so that I could view the metal choices in between those two price points. The online system had a terrible user interface and all I could think was how I could help them fix this so that grieving families didn’t have to suffer through the horrible waiting times during all the clicks it took to view each option. We clicked (and clicked and clicked) through the slate grey and cheesy blue options for almost an hour. I didn't cry. I didn't waver. I shopped. I planned. I managed the situation as I would handle any professional project. I settled on a warm tan casket that had a wooden feel at nowhere near the price and moved on to choose the flowers, the programs, and the guest book. After I confirmed everything with my siblings, the funeral director brought in the paperwork so I could sign on the dotted line. 

The problem with signing things is that you have to enter the date. I can never remember the date. Even if I've written it a gajillion times that day, even if I've been monitoring my calendar like crazy - I can never remember the date when it comes time to sign a form. This time, though, it flowed out without me thinking. 

2/17

My mom's birthday. 

I wrote it without thinking. I wrote it knowing the significance, but without it hitting me until I filled in the year.

1943

Over the past several months, I had become so used to filling in my mom's birth date, that I couldn't write 2/17 without filling in her birth year. I looked down at the papers and realized my mistake. My chest tightened and for just a second I wondered if I could take another breath. The air felt like tar seeping and blocking my lungs from filling. I had just purchased my mom's casket on what would have been her 72nd birthday. 

I scratched out 1943 and wrote in 2015, wondering briefly if the blurred wet ink would be a problem. The funeral director must have thought I was having trouble with the date because he helpfully chimed in, "It's the 17th."

I looked up at him through tears for the first time and made a horrible imitation of a real smile.

"I know."

Abstract Comfort

When he arrives

            with red roses

            [so common and impersonal]

            not orchids

            or daisies,

I seek comfort.

Or when she comes with me,

            only because I begged,

            ["His friend is great,"

            I told her.]

            and has more fun

            with her date,

            dancing and laughing,

            than I do

            with the double left-footed man

            sharing my side of the booth

            at the pub on the corner,

I seek comfort.

Or when everything is wrong

            even when all is right,

            and the tears come

            for no obvious reason-

Mittelschmerz-

            as the old German woman,

            with all the cats,

            [my sweet mother]

            calls it,

I seek comfort.

I find it-

In the room I've known since childhood

            lying back in the bed

            that has felt my weight

            so many times in the past.

In an array of lines above me,

            light pouring out between the panels

            of my old reading lamp,

            creating a colorless Picasso

            for me alone

            to experience.

The scribbles

[long crooked fingers]

            draw me up

            to where roses fade into daisies

            [such simple white and yellow petals]

and a podiatrist,

            a small creature with glasses

            that magnify his curious eyes

            [tiny little frog man]

            stands at the entrance of the pub

            covering the words

            [please wait to be seated]

            on the welcome sign,

            offering free foot transplants.

The corners of my mouth rise

into a satisfied grin

as I find

my abstract comfort.

Breaking

She leaned a little into the ledge of the roof deck as he took an almost imperceptible step toward her. The conversation had been lively and constant all evening, but before this she hadn't been sure whether he even found her attractive. Waiting for him to interrupt her with that first kiss, she continued talking, not sure of how to stop.

"...so now I'm here, living in this beautiful city," she gestured with her head to the tops of the buildings they were overlooking, "and I feel pretty lucky..."

"Yes we are," he said as he moved toward her. He wrapped his arms around her in a hug and pulled her close to him.

A hug? This was not what she had been expecting. As soon as she felt herself relax into it, he pulled his face back without letting any space come between them.

She watched him watch her. "You're studying me."

He caught the hint of a question in her voice. "Not critically," as he leaned into her and put his lips to hers.

She waited for him to open the kiss. For an agonizingly long time, he remained still - pushing his lips gently into hers while holding her body against him. She felt something go off in her head.

Are these fireworks?

She felt an urge to move - to pull his lips into hers, but somehow knew better. She gave herself permission to trust him. In an almost meditative state, she started to feel all the nuances of the kiss. She felt movement in the stillness. She felt his hands on her back. She felt him meeting her in this moment.

Seconds that seemed like hours later, he pulled her into the open kisses she had been expecting. They were sweet without lacking sensuality. Soft without lacking power.

They paused for a moment and he gestured toward the nearby table. She sat atop it so that he could stand above her. They continued kissing without escalating. It felt like hours. Years. It felt like something she wanted to do forever.

And then, in one slow movement, he raised up and placed her head against his chest.

Really? We're making out on a first date and he wants to cuddle?

He wrapped his hands in her hair and gently held her there, pulling her into him. He held here there for three long breaths, then four.

At first she simply indulged him. But somehow both suddenly and as if it had been building up for eternity, something inside her came loose. She stopped counting breaths and she found herself pushing her forehead into him. As he held her, one arm around her back, one hand cradling her head, she relaxed into him. She felt herself completely surrender to this moment. Trusting this man to hold her, trusting him to know that she needed to be held, trusting him to kiss her just as she needed to be kissed.

Something inside me is breaking.

Tears were starting to fill in her eyes when the security guard abruptly opened the door and told them the roof deck was closing. She buried her face into him and then quickly wiped her eyes as they laughed at the interruption.

He handed her a tissue once they got into the harshly lit elevator.

Does he know I was about to cry?

"I know I always need one after being out in the cold like that."

Maybe not.

They moved outside to the sidewalk and she started to suggest another location, but something in his eyes made her ask how he was feeling.

He told her it had been a long day, that he'd like to end it on a high note. He held her hand as they walked the few blocks until they needed to go in different directions. They kissed again and said goodnight.

She walked home feeling...feeling what? euphoric. excited. violated. and completely abandoned.

Anxious and not understanding why, she let herself text him to thank him for the evening and let him know she'd like to see him again. He responded that he'd like to see her, too, but her nerves never settled.

She awoke the next morning knowing something had shifted. The more she thought about it, the more emotional and anxious she became.

It isn't this guy. I don't even know if I really like this guy. 

She checked her phone for the tenth time in as many minutes.

What the fuck is going on? What is wrong with me?

She closed her eyes and let herself remember how it felt when he first kissed her. She let herself feel him hold her against his chest. She gave herself permission to relax into the feeling. And she started to cry.

In almost four years her ex had never once held her this way. And the man before him? Never. Maybe she hadn't let them. Never had she been so gently forced to let down her guard. Never had she realized how much she needed to feel safe in someone's arms. She sobbed. And laughed. She cried in thankfulness for this beautiful gift, and in sorrow for not knowing if she would ever have it again. She cried because she was finally admitting that she had never in her life, her entire life, really felt completely safe. She cried because she understood this was just a moment in time, and that she may never have it again. And she cried because she knew this was the beginning of something much bigger and truer than she could fully grasp.

Something inside me is breaking free.

Saturday Afternoon

She squints as the clouds blow by, letting the sun flash in through the cafe window.
"I just don't get why he hasn't called back. It's been two days. He never takes this long."

One of the other three women at the table hands her a pair of sunglasses.
"Honey, don't worry about it, he's probably out of town...somewhere with no reception."

"Or," another drawls as she examines her reflection in the window, "he's so wrapped up in some other girl he hasn't even checked his phone." She brushes off the death glares and napkin wads.

"Maybe he got into a terrible accident and he's in a hospital somewhere. He could be dying wishing I was by his side! Maybe I should call around?"

"Don't sound so hopeful."

"Well, it's better than another woman." She pushes out her bottom lip.

The fourth woman speaks up. "Maybe he's in jail."

"If only he was exciting enough for me to believe that one. It's probably something totally boring. I bet he dropped his phone in the toilet and fried his contacts."

"You really think he's the kind of guy who wouldn't have them backed up?"

"Oh, damn."

"Maybe a friend came into town unexpectedly and he just isn't thinking about it."

"Yeah, the woman he's wrapped up in." This time she dodges french fries.

The phone rings.

Giving In

"When did you know?"
The girl looked up from the sofa through her tears, searching for answers only time could offer.

The reply came with a sweet smile of sadness and amusement.
"Oh, honey," her voice cracked with sorrow and gentle laughter,
"It just smacked me upside the head."
She lowered herself into the cushions and pulled her daughter to her chest.
"When your daddy walked through that door, I think I just gave in. Some long fought battle just stopped raging and opened me up to somethin' more."

The girl sighed the deep sigh of young love,
"I want that."

She kissed the top of those dark blonde curls and smiled into the space around them.
"I know, baby girl.
I know."

A Haiku for my Family

monkey, gorilla
and a furry orange tiger-
happy little clan