57 Days

There is a jar at the end of my bed. It is bursting from within. It is so stuffed it must waddle through the house commiserating on its discomfort, much like my own self after sliding my chair from the Thanksgiving Day spread. So I tell the jar, "Suck it up! Have some peppermint tea, rub some yu -yi oil on your belly, walk it off, unbutton your pants for god's sake but stop complaining! You did this to yourself!" But it's a lie. I did it.

It has been 57 days since my last post. Seeing the numbers there, the 5 with its bloated belly and the 7 with its deliberate stance (much like a military salute in my opinion), brings on a wave of nausea. How did I let the jar get this full? It is so full of excuses it simply can not hold another and I have no choice but to either get a brand new, empty jar or begin to write again.

I haven't wanted to write. Simple. Stated. Done. I could have summed it up with one simple phrase rather than continuing on with the countless others......"I'm too tired", "I don't feel well, "My son needs me", "Blah blah blah." The truth is I just haven't wanted to go there. The thought of clicking keys made my head spin and my fingers felt as if giant weights had been suspended from my knuckles. Every letter was a labor. Every word a feat of great strength. Too hard. So I would close the laptop and open my novel instead.

So what has changed? I have no idea. Really. Tonight I picked up the computer and I wanted to write. So I did. Simple. Stated. Done.

Many events have transpired in the past 57 days. While I have been feeding my excuse jar my Dad sold the house. On Sept. 18th, exactly 6th months after mom's death, he packed up his Subaru and drove out of the Chicago burbs and straight into the Arizona desert. Therapists often talk about 6 months being a pivotal turning point in the grieving process. Typically, one is more able to move forward around this time. I am imagining his car driving confidently into a desert sunset as the blue two-storey sheds a small tear in the rear-view mirror. He has a beautiful new home and he is ready for beginnings after so much time and energy has been devoted to endings. Chapter One: An Arizona Autumn. I can't wait to read the rest. I am so proud of him.

Unfortunately, the last 57 days has also brought great heartache. One of mom's best friends was diagnosed with brain cancer and a very close friend of the family lost her husband in a boating accident. I am saddened and disheartened by these events. I don't know what to say. Perhaps it is enough to just share.

The last 57 days ushered in another milestone. My mother's 62nd birthday. On October 9th we celebrated her birthday with friends here in Singapore. My friend's 5 year old daughter curiously inquired as to where the birthday girl was. "Is your mom dead?" she innocently asked.
"Yes." I replied, "but we will still celebrate with her spirit."
"Will there be cake?" she asked.
"Of course."
"Will we sing?"
"Absolutely." I stated. And that seemed to settle the matter. It can be anyone's birthday with a heartfelt rendition of Happy Birthday To You and espresso-fudge- banana cake ( AND carrot-walnut AND chocolate-hazlenut).

So how DO you celebrate your Mom's 62nd birthday when she has gone off and adventured into the afterlife.
Step 1. Run a 10K race in her honor (Congrats to my husband who completed his first 10K).
Step 2. Have a Cosmo party with close friends (Mom's favorite drink....ehhemmm...ONE of them).
Step 3. Eat a delicious meal (Chinese steamboat for us!)
Step 4: Sing, blow out candles WHILE making wish, and eat cake.

Repeat all or some of steps as needed.

It was a wonderful day and and a lovely party. I think Mom enjoyed herself. I know we all did.


My last present to you is that I am writing. I hope 57 days does not elapse again between posts but who can see the future? The best I can do is to say I have written now.

Simple. Stated. Done.

Happy Belated Birthday Mom