Thursday, April 11, 2013

No Words Can Speak the Heart's Truth



Mom working on her favorite - a Klondike Bar



Monday night, after two days of travel from New York/New Jersey I was exhausted. Physically and emotionally spent. Tuesday and Wednesday I completed the ritual of "re-entry" tasks - fill the refrigerator, tend to the left behind plants, bathe the dog, do the laundry, pay the bills, complete a pile of "follow up for Mom and brother Josh" items.

While I moved, my mind was distracted, my body was heavy, full of tears which I kept at bay. Sadness for the loss of my mother, who rarely smiles or responds anymore. Sadness that my brother considers me a disruptive force when I visit and resents my life when I leave. Anger that no matter how I try, I can't give either of them what they want, what they need. 

I console myself by affirming I did my best. I give in to myself by putting off my regular exercise routine for one more day and taking a two hour afternoon nap.

Today the tears are no longer sitting just below my eyes, they are sitting across my breast bone. I did my morning exercise. I opened my watercolor paints. I went to lunch with spiritual friends who offered hugs and wisdom. The real unpacking has begun. 

Mom always called me "the mouse"
 

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