Pictured here with the daughter is my mother's younger (youngest) sister. A few weeks after my mother's death my aunt had a stroke. It was a mild one as those things go and she's done remarkably well with physical therapy. There are some lingering signs, but still, she is recovering nicely.
Of all her sisters my mother's youngest resembled her (physical features) the most. Since mom's death and my aunt's stroke her physical resemblance to my mother is even sharper. Could be that is due to the slack in her jaw or as much, her adopting some of my mother's mannerisms and attitudes. Then again,
it could be all in my mind.
Twenty-thirteen is the year my mother died--within six months of my father's death. Twenty-thirteen is the year I ceased being a daughter--at least in an active sense. While my father had not been part of my day-to-day for many, many years prior to his sickness and ultimate demise, my mother was very much a part of my day-to-day. The last six months of her life I was with or spoke with her every day.
There were other major changes in my life in twenty-thirteen but none compare to bearing witness to the light extinguishing from my mother's eyes. Being there at that moment,
that moment has been in my bones every day since. Thus, impacting every day since.
In recent weeks I've come to the realization that I have about 5 hours of activity in me. I'm easily winded and as easily, wearied. This is not boding very well for getting the new career
off the ground. And so, floundering in that regard. A re-booting is becoming apparent.
Building relationships with my brothers (and other family) have floundered as well. Outside of my aunt pictured and one cousin I haven't been very successful in getting others to maintain connections. I've decided to move on. I think. Hurts like a son-of-a-bitch, and so, not sure I'm ready to just stop. In fact, holiday cards posted this weekend.
Some of my friends have had, are having an extremely challenging twenty-thirteen as well. I can't help them except to extend an encouraging and empathetic word now and again. To each of you, I wish I could do more. I love you more than you probably know.
When I look back at twenty-thirteen I see
emptiness. The twinkling lights, glittered balls, and chirpy carols of recent weeks haven't done much to fill the void or erase the sense of desolation, despair--try as they might.
Sadness aside, twenty-thirteen has seen some positive moments, some upbeat themes. I shall embrace those joys and build upon them. I shall look forward to deepening relationships with newer connections. I shall distance myself from the
only daughter I used to be and become . . .
TBD
For my mother's younger (youngest) sister, for my mother and father, for my son and daughter, for my cousin and my friends, for
me I shall look back at twenty-thirteen and use the sights seen, feelings felt, experiences survived to stand up, walk, and eventually run. Well, metaphorically speaking, anyway--you all should know, I don't
run unless absolutely necessary.
We are living art, created to help others to hang on, stand up, forbear, continue. ~Maya Angelou
