It's been six months now since Mom passed away. Dad seems very withdrawn. I thought having family around and a lot of parades and town celebrations would help, but maybe it's actually worse for him b/c this all reminds him even more that Mom is gone.
Tonight was the Kiddie Parade. Mom used to always create some clever float for me to pull in the wagon. One year she put flowers and silver bells and shells, and I wore a sign that said, "Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?" I wore a long sunflower skirt. Another year she made a Paper Mache mountain in the wagon, we spray-painted it gold, and put a miner's pick-ax in it. The sign I wore that year read, "Aplington's my pick." I wore cut-off shorts and a raggedy shirt w/ an old floppy hat. In 1975, in preparation for the country's bicentennial, two of my friends walked in the parade w/ me. One pretended to play a flute, the other carried the American flag that always hung outside our house, and I carried the drum that Mom bought for Lori to practice on. We wore ragged clothes w/ bandages on our heads to look like wounded Revolutionary War soldiers. They put us at the beginning of the parade, and I don't think people realized we were an actual parade entry. I don't remember what the sign said on our backs but something to the effect of getting ready for the Bicentennial next year.
Mom was amazing when it came to making and creating. All I ever had to do was say, "Mom I want to be in the parade," and she took it from there. When I got too old for the Kiddie Parade, she helped her grandchildren and other people's children. Mom loved a parade. Mom loved kids. She wanted to have at least one more after I was born, but she had ovarian cancer when I was four and had to have a complete hysterectomy. I think that's why she loved teaching the preschool Sunday School students b/c they became Lucy's Kids.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Sunday, 06 June 2010 -- Day 168 (181)
Blogspot is down so I'm handwriting this and will upload later. Sorry, Aunt Jean, if this causes you any undo stress or concern.
Today was Church in the Park, an ecumenical service of my hometown's churches. Usually the songs and hymns of church services affect me the most, which is probably why my church-going has dwindled in the last six months. I was doing okay w/ the first couple of praise songs, but when the men's quartet sang an a cappella piece, the waterworks opened. This was exactly the kind of singing that Mom loved. Then the closing hymn was How Great Thou Art, played really jazzy and up-tempo on the piano....just like Mom loved. It's a beautiful hymn, but it always reminds me of funerals. Yep, I was a mess at this point. Fortunately I was wearing sunglasses so no one could see. Why do I say fortunately, and why was I worried that people would see me cry? Is there a statute of limitations on public mourning? It's okay to cry at the funeral, but six months later is not allowed? Why am I embarrassed that church music should remind me of Mom and cause me to cry?
This afternoon we went to the cemetery. The corsage I placed on Mom's grave was dead so I picked it up, along w/ some remnants of peonies that Ron placed a few weeks ago. Holding those petals brought me back to Grandpa Koop's funeral in Colorado when I was 9. I was given a mum from the funeral spray to keep as a memento. (Why do some people place flowers on caskets while others take flowers from it?) Anyway, I was holding this mum in my hand all the way from Fountain to Colorado Springs, and by the time we reached my aunt and uncle's, it was a mass of loosed petals. I got out of the backseat of the car and shook the petals out of my hand onto a neighbor's lawn. The neighbor lady had apparently been watching b/c she came out her front door, yelling at me to pick those petals up. Mom heard and came around the car to help me pick them up. Didn't this woman know that my mom had just buried her father? Then I felt guilty that Mom had to help me pick up the petals when she was so sad, but maybe she welcomed the distraction from her grief.
I know I've busied myself w/ many distractions these last few months, but this just proves that running from anything, whether it be grief or problems or the law only means that when you do finally slow down to face the music, it's all still there waiting, w/ an even greater force behind it than before. Kinda like when you pinch off a garden hose while the water is running through it. When you finally release it, the water spurts out w/ more intensity, at least at first. And that's what happened w/ the music this morning in church. When I finally took time to listen and pay attention to my surroundings, the waterworks came spurting to life.
Today was Church in the Park, an ecumenical service of my hometown's churches. Usually the songs and hymns of church services affect me the most, which is probably why my church-going has dwindled in the last six months. I was doing okay w/ the first couple of praise songs, but when the men's quartet sang an a cappella piece, the waterworks opened. This was exactly the kind of singing that Mom loved. Then the closing hymn was How Great Thou Art, played really jazzy and up-tempo on the piano....just like Mom loved. It's a beautiful hymn, but it always reminds me of funerals. Yep, I was a mess at this point. Fortunately I was wearing sunglasses so no one could see. Why do I say fortunately, and why was I worried that people would see me cry? Is there a statute of limitations on public mourning? It's okay to cry at the funeral, but six months later is not allowed? Why am I embarrassed that church music should remind me of Mom and cause me to cry?
This afternoon we went to the cemetery. The corsage I placed on Mom's grave was dead so I picked it up, along w/ some remnants of peonies that Ron placed a few weeks ago. Holding those petals brought me back to Grandpa Koop's funeral in Colorado when I was 9. I was given a mum from the funeral spray to keep as a memento. (Why do some people place flowers on caskets while others take flowers from it?) Anyway, I was holding this mum in my hand all the way from Fountain to Colorado Springs, and by the time we reached my aunt and uncle's, it was a mass of loosed petals. I got out of the backseat of the car and shook the petals out of my hand onto a neighbor's lawn. The neighbor lady had apparently been watching b/c she came out her front door, yelling at me to pick those petals up. Mom heard and came around the car to help me pick them up. Didn't this woman know that my mom had just buried her father? Then I felt guilty that Mom had to help me pick up the petals when she was so sad, but maybe she welcomed the distraction from her grief.
I know I've busied myself w/ many distractions these last few months, but this just proves that running from anything, whether it be grief or problems or the law only means that when you do finally slow down to face the music, it's all still there waiting, w/ an even greater force behind it than before. Kinda like when you pinch off a garden hose while the water is running through it. When you finally release it, the water spurts out w/ more intensity, at least at first. And that's what happened w/ the music this morning in church. When I finally took time to listen and pay attention to my surroundings, the waterworks came spurting to life.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Saturday, 05 June 2010 -- Day 167 (180)
I'm at Dad's for the next several days...still can't get used to saying it this way. When Mom was alive I'd tell people that I was "going to my folk's for the weekend." To me folk's always meant Mom and Dad's, but now that I think about it, a person's folk or kin can be any relative or family members. I can still say I'm going to "my folks'" meaning, "I'm going home to see my people, my family."
So I'm back amongst my folk, and I got a chance to see a lot of them tonight. It was Sauerkraut Days in a town about ten miles from where I grew up, and it's been a longstanding tradition to: meet at my Aunt Irene's house, go watch the parade, and return to her home for beef burgers and a whole lot of other yummy stuff. Tonight, visiting w/ aunts and cousins and siblings and nieces and nephews, I felt the depth of this tradition and w/ it the breadth of Mom's absence. The first hour together was spent reminiscing about, "Which year was it that we had to head to the cellar b/c the tornado sirens went off?" and "Were you here last year when....?" Most family gatherings begin w/ this trip down memory lane before sharing current events in our lives. This is the talk that binds families together. I don't make it back every year for this tradition, but Mom and Dad never missed one. Even last summer when she wasn't feeling well, she was there. It's hard to return to these yearly events when events have brought change during the past year.
I could envision Mom sitting in a lawn chair next to Dad during the parade, commenting on all the tractors and fire trucks and making comments like, "Blah, why do they have to blast their sirens so loud?" As of now I still see her wrapped in a blanket while sitting in that lawn chair, but I hope eventually I'll get to the point when I can recall the healthy, vibrant Mom who loved family traditions more than anyone. She never had much of a family of her own growing up so these events were always so important to her. Dad knows that, and I think that's part of what keeps him going. By returning to these events and traditions, he feels her presence spreading through her potato salad and her rhubarb upside cake and her ability to remember any person's name whenever someone was at a loss while recalling a story.
It's a happy time to come back to my folk, but the loss is more obvious. Being 150 miles away, I can almost pretend that she's still alive. But I'm too old to pretend, and there's no use pretending among folk anyway; they know the truth.
So I'm back amongst my folk, and I got a chance to see a lot of them tonight. It was Sauerkraut Days in a town about ten miles from where I grew up, and it's been a longstanding tradition to: meet at my Aunt Irene's house, go watch the parade, and return to her home for beef burgers and a whole lot of other yummy stuff. Tonight, visiting w/ aunts and cousins and siblings and nieces and nephews, I felt the depth of this tradition and w/ it the breadth of Mom's absence. The first hour together was spent reminiscing about, "Which year was it that we had to head to the cellar b/c the tornado sirens went off?" and "Were you here last year when....?" Most family gatherings begin w/ this trip down memory lane before sharing current events in our lives. This is the talk that binds families together. I don't make it back every year for this tradition, but Mom and Dad never missed one. Even last summer when she wasn't feeling well, she was there. It's hard to return to these yearly events when events have brought change during the past year.
I could envision Mom sitting in a lawn chair next to Dad during the parade, commenting on all the tractors and fire trucks and making comments like, "Blah, why do they have to blast their sirens so loud?" As of now I still see her wrapped in a blanket while sitting in that lawn chair, but I hope eventually I'll get to the point when I can recall the healthy, vibrant Mom who loved family traditions more than anyone. She never had much of a family of her own growing up so these events were always so important to her. Dad knows that, and I think that's part of what keeps him going. By returning to these events and traditions, he feels her presence spreading through her potato salad and her rhubarb upside cake and her ability to remember any person's name whenever someone was at a loss while recalling a story.
It's a happy time to come back to my folk, but the loss is more obvious. Being 150 miles away, I can almost pretend that she's still alive. But I'm too old to pretend, and there's no use pretending among folk anyway; they know the truth.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Friday, 04 June 2010 -- Day 166 (179)
"Never say die." That's my expression for the day. It's not really my expression, but all I can find right now about its origins is that the expression was first used in the early 1800's in reference to perseverance and tenacity. The groups Black Sabbath and Dixie Chicks apparently turned this phrase into having more to do w/ sexual tenacity rather than persevering to accomplish a goal. My connotation for this expression is that even when we don't think we can keep going, we just keep pushing on and "never say die."
Enough of the etymology and derivation lesson, the reason this phrase rings true for me today is b/c the alternator in my car decided to die. Of course I was 15 miles from home, but at least I was in Spirit Lake where I could get help and a new battery to at least get me back home. Two months ago the fuel pump had to be replaced (my '01 Ford Escape has over 125,000 miles on it), and my daughter's car needed new brake lines. Then Maddy's moped battery had to be replaced so she could stop kick-starting it. To top it all off our boat motor blew up......first the upper unit and once it was replaced, the lower unit went out. It hasn't been a banner Spring for the Burns' motorized vehicles, but we just keep plugging away. What else are we to do? We can't just roll over and die, even though our automotive and recreational vehicles have.
I remember a picture I saw in one of Mom's albums. She had photographed their head stone shortly after she and dad bought it eight or ten years ago. The caption, in Mom's handwriting, was, "Not yet!" She definitely lived by the saying, "Never Say Die." She was a fighter to the end. I may have mentioned this before, but most people didn't realize how sick she was b/c she just kept going. For her, "never say die " meant "not yet." But even in life she was tenacious. If she couldn't figure out how to make something work on a pattern she was sewing, she just kept at it until she figured it out. When she wanted Dad to build an addition to their house (he's done three), she just kept after him until she finally convinced him they could make it work.
When I think I can't possibly survive one more day, I must remind myself that the end is "not yet" if I "never say die.
Enough of the etymology and derivation lesson, the reason this phrase rings true for me today is b/c the alternator in my car decided to die. Of course I was 15 miles from home, but at least I was in Spirit Lake where I could get help and a new battery to at least get me back home. Two months ago the fuel pump had to be replaced (my '01 Ford Escape has over 125,000 miles on it), and my daughter's car needed new brake lines. Then Maddy's moped battery had to be replaced so she could stop kick-starting it. To top it all off our boat motor blew up......first the upper unit and once it was replaced, the lower unit went out. It hasn't been a banner Spring for the Burns' motorized vehicles, but we just keep plugging away. What else are we to do? We can't just roll over and die, even though our automotive and recreational vehicles have.
I remember a picture I saw in one of Mom's albums. She had photographed their head stone shortly after she and dad bought it eight or ten years ago. The caption, in Mom's handwriting, was, "Not yet!" She definitely lived by the saying, "Never Say Die." She was a fighter to the end. I may have mentioned this before, but most people didn't realize how sick she was b/c she just kept going. For her, "never say die " meant "not yet." But even in life she was tenacious. If she couldn't figure out how to make something work on a pattern she was sewing, she just kept at it until she figured it out. When she wanted Dad to build an addition to their house (he's done three), she just kept after him until she finally convinced him they could make it work.
When I think I can't possibly survive one more day, I must remind myself that the end is "not yet" if I "never say die.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Thursday, 03 June 2010 -- Day 165 (178)
Normally by this time of summer break, I've completed at least one major project w/ plans to complete three or four more for the summer. This is my time for painting, gardening, and cleaning/organizing with a lot of softball thrown in the mix. Since Mom's death, I've lost my motivation. I've never been a strong believer in extrinsic motivators, but apparently Mom had more influence on my actions than I realized. Instead of painting the foundation of our house, which was to be my first project, I just want to nap and read pointless novels. So today I enacted what I'm calling, the Law of Opposite Reaction to Contrary Actions (O.R.C.A.). The way this works is that any time I think about wanting to take a nap or read a novel or anything that would be contrary to being productive, I do just the opposite. So this morning when I wanted to go back to bed after getting breakfast for the girls and seeing them off to school, I instead cleaned the kitchen, did laundry, and straightened up Kenzie's room. I allowed myself to read for 30 minutes while I had lunch, but when I wanted to keep reading, I went to my office to write a letter of recommendation for a student. When I got home and wanted to sit on the deck and read and snooze, I mowed the lawn instead.
It's important for me not to think; kinda like Kevin Costner's line in Bull Durham when he tells Tim Robbins to "Don't think, Meat. Just throw." I have a tendency to think, and re-think, and over-think everything, which is why it's important for me to follow my Law of ORCA. I will not think, I will just act. I will be conscientious about incorporating fun, which is where the softball and gardening come in, but whenever I feel the urge to take a nap I will take an opposite reaction to this contrary action and be productive. I can't just be a bum for three months; I just don't have it in me b/c Mom's in me and she could never sit for long periods of time either........except when she was reading. Near the end she would get so upset w/ herself for not getting more done in her day, but then she listed off that she had cooked, cleaned the bathroom, and washed clothes. And that was while she was fighting four cancers.
I hereby solemnly swear to: 1) stop feeling sorry for myself; 2) stop blaming Mom for not being here to motivate me; 3) think What Would Mom Do (WWMD) and then do it; and 4) follow the Law of ORCA.
It's important for me not to think; kinda like Kevin Costner's line in Bull Durham when he tells Tim Robbins to "Don't think, Meat. Just throw." I have a tendency to think, and re-think, and over-think everything, which is why it's important for me to follow my Law of ORCA. I will not think, I will just act. I will be conscientious about incorporating fun, which is where the softball and gardening come in, but whenever I feel the urge to take a nap I will take an opposite reaction to this contrary action and be productive. I can't just be a bum for three months; I just don't have it in me b/c Mom's in me and she could never sit for long periods of time either........except when she was reading. Near the end she would get so upset w/ herself for not getting more done in her day, but then she listed off that she had cooked, cleaned the bathroom, and washed clothes. And that was while she was fighting four cancers.
I hereby solemnly swear to: 1) stop feeling sorry for myself; 2) stop blaming Mom for not being here to motivate me; 3) think What Would Mom Do (WWMD) and then do it; and 4) follow the Law of ORCA.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Wednesday, 02 June 2010 -- Day 164 (177)
Wednesdays are my tennis nights. I rediscovered my love for tennis about eight years ago, and this group of ladies has been playing ever since. Many times we end up laughing more than playing, but we've made some wonderful memories and managed to improve our games a little along the way. Maddy is going to join the tennis team next year as a freshman in high school. She came down to the courts and played a few games of doubles w/ us tonight. She did very, very well for her first time playing w/ anyone other than Doug or me. She had some very nice serve returns and has a great eye for the court to know where to place the ball. I'm excited to be able to share this love of tennis w/ Maddy, and I hope we're able to play together for many, many years to come.
I may have mentioned this before, but the times that my sister and I played tennis w/ Mom, whoever wanted to win put Mom on the other team. We always joked about this w/ Mom; she knew tennis wasn't her game, especially since she learned the game in her early 50's. She just loved spending time w/ both her daughters. I sometimes envy the mothers and daughters and sisters and aunts who get together for "Girls Night Out" or weekends away or holiday shopping events. We never created any kind of tradition like that, but I hope to do this w/ my daughters. The older I get the more I realize the importance of female relationships in helping us feel connected w/ something bigger than ourselves...to make sense of our own feelings by understanding that other females feel as we do. I love my relationship w/ my husband and my father and my brother, but "I enjoy being a girl," and they just don't get that!
I may have mentioned this before, but the times that my sister and I played tennis w/ Mom, whoever wanted to win put Mom on the other team. We always joked about this w/ Mom; she knew tennis wasn't her game, especially since she learned the game in her early 50's. She just loved spending time w/ both her daughters. I sometimes envy the mothers and daughters and sisters and aunts who get together for "Girls Night Out" or weekends away or holiday shopping events. We never created any kind of tradition like that, but I hope to do this w/ my daughters. The older I get the more I realize the importance of female relationships in helping us feel connected w/ something bigger than ourselves...to make sense of our own feelings by understanding that other females feel as we do. I love my relationship w/ my husband and my father and my brother, but "I enjoy being a girl," and they just don't get that!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Tuesday, 01 June 2010 -- Day 163 (176)
I finished the last of my grading for the fast track class......now my summer can begin in earnest. Kenzie talked w/ one of these fast track students who happened to be talking to one of my former students. My husband and in-laws like to tease me that my students probably call me "Bitchy Burns" so Kenzie asked these students if that was true. They both agreed that it wasn't, that I was tough but very fair. This assessment pleased me b/c I try very hard to be fair in my grading and in my treatment of all students. I learned that fairness from Mom. For example, she worked hard to keep all of our Christmas presents equal, almost down to the penny. She wanted to make sure none of us thought she loved any one of us more or less than the others. As another example, when I received my master's degree, my family gathered at a restaurant to celebrate my accomplishment. Mom and Dad gave me a beautiful piece of luggage, and then Mom proceeded to hand out envelopes w/ money to each of my siblings w/ the same amount as they spent on my luggage. She had to keep it equal, keep it fair. My husband thought this was unnecessary, but I knew, as a mother, she didn't want any of her kids to feel better than the others. It keeps us humble, that no matter what we accomplish, we're not any better than anyone else.
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