Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Molly’s Birthday



Molly would be 19 today.  Maybe Molly is 19 today.   I don’t know.

What I do know is that her friends have remembered her on Facebook and that she is very much a part of not only my daily reality – but the reality of many young people who are growing into young adulthood.

I feel for those young people.  I hope that they are only holding happy memories.  I hope that they are not blaming themselves, or replaying conversations or worrying that in some way they contributed to or might have stopped Molly’s death.  We did a fair amount of work right after Molly died to help with that – but I hope we did enough.
  
Molly’s death was a runaway train.  There was no way that anyone was going to stop it.  She was stubborn and strong and smart and pursued by mental illness.  She was also a good actress.   So, Molly’s friends should only be celebrating their memories of badminton and plays…  field hockey and school parties….   sitting around the piano, worrying about grades and staying up late. 

As the years go by, I feel less and less connection to Molly’s birthday.  We loved celebrating it with her, and she had some wonderful birthday experiences (para sailing in Florida and taking a horse and buggy ride in Philadelphia come to mind….) but the celebrations were about HER.   

Oddly enough, it is the anniversary of her death that connects me to Molly now.   It is not a day I would ever celebrate.  But it is a day that reminds me (as if I need the reminder…)  both  how much Molly’s life means to me, and how challenged I am by her death to live every day to the fullest.  It is a day big enough for both of us.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Appliances

ARC-1000 Rice Cooker Steamer
I have given in to the tempation and purchased a rice cooker.

Rice cookers are not heavily advertised, are unlikely to be promoted in the Sunday paper, and on the whole are not as sexy as - say - margarita blenders.   I am proud that the big corporate machine did not influence my purchasing decision until I realize that the true motivator was pots of burned rice.  I need all the help I can get.

And for the record, I LOVE it.  It's a wonder priced at under $30.  I have used it to cook brown and white rice, to steam vegetables and to heat tofu.  And it has a TIMER function!   Tomorrow, I am going to cook a pork roast in my slow cooker and time my rice to be done wth the pork when I get home from work.  What took me so long? 

And with the success of that purchase, I headed out to thrift shops to investigate bread machines.  Again, not the appliance of the hour (Do you remember the s'more maker?  Or the hot dog cooker/bun warmer?  Those were appliances of the hour).  In fact, so NOT the appliance of the hour that I knew I shouldn't have to pay full price.  I was not disapointed.    There were five machines to choose from - each priced at $10.  I chose one that appeared to have all of the parts and be the most recent model.  I had to pull a manual off the internet, but the machine has already produced a lovely loaf of wheat bread for me.

The bread machine, too, has a timer.  Maybe I'll set it to be done with the rice and the pork roast tomorrow.  The house, at least, will be inviting as I head in after a day of subbing (I hope!) and rain (I am certain!).

Blue Herons, Rainbows and Flowers

I sense Molly's presence. 

It's not a constant thing, or a hallucination.   It is not audible or visual.  But in the blue heron that played along the river as Frances and I took a walk yesterday, in the rainbow that appeared over the harbor in Ireland when I went back for the first time without Molly, in the plant that blooms in her favorite color on her birthday - but had never bloomed before her death - I sense Molly's presence.

Some would say that sensing Molly around me is trick I am playing on myself so that I don't have to admit that she is "gone."  They are free to  their opinion.   I choose to believe that regardless of if we live or die we remain connected to each other and that our relationships endure.

To me, she lives on.  Actively. 

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

High School

All of a sudden, I am subbing a lot at what would have been Molly's high school if she had gone to public high school.  After most of elementary and all of middle school in public school, she never really considered going to the public high school - she was definitely looking for a different experience - but now she walks those halls with me every time I am there.

I think of her as I walk the crowded hall ways.  Her mental illness included hyper sensitivity: sounds that I could barely hear would drive her crazy; crowds were almost impossible for her to navigate; she did not like to be touched and she needed sunglasses outside.   This was not a kid who enjoyed the mall.  By early high school, her hyper sensitivity became a very limiting factor in her life.  The halls at our local public school would have been very difficult for her.

I think of Molly when the classes are going well and I wonder if, in fact, she could have thrived there.  For the healthy child, the school is a good place to be.   This always lingering question is most poignant for me becuase Molly attended a local boarding school (relatively common on the east coast).  This was her idea, believe me.  Boarding school was not even part of my vocabulary untill she brought it up.   But the more we looked into it as a family, the more it made sense for her.   While of course we didn't consider her ill at the time, we knew Molly needed structure; she needed to be challenged - rather than invited - to participate in extra curricular activities; and we hoped the experience would lead to increased confidence and social ease.   She had great grades and glowing recommendations.  She got a scholarship.  She went.   It worked for awhile. 

And I think of Molly at the local high school when the classes are misbehaving - not becuase I think she would have misbehaved - but because if she didn't test into the upper level courses, her peer group at the school would have been very challenging.

In a weird way, I also think of my own high school experience as I work there.  Seniors have their last day next week, and obviously I had a last day of high school, but I can't even begin to remember it.  I am sure that it would be shocking for these kids to know that as important as the last day of school is going to feel to them, most of them won't remember it ten years later.

So Molly and a younger me are  hovering over my subbing jobs lately.  And it's good company.





Saturday, May 14, 2011

Vacation

Frances and I are travelling this week - Vegas, Palm Springs and Northern California.

OF COURSE, because I exceed any measurement of "predictible," I went to the Donny and Marie show while we were in Vegas.   I was there as a recurring nod to my own 70's fan history of course, but even more so, I was there knowing that Marie lost her son to suicide.  It comforts me, in an "I am so glad the lights are down so I can cry" sort of way, to hear her very gracefully acknowledge both the pain of the loss of her son and the excitement she feels as her own life continues to unfold.   It's probably only 90 seconds of the show's content, if that, but it was the heart of the show for me.  A good evening.

Travelling is tricky business.  Jolted out of routines and without access to some of the things that make daily life our own - favorite foods, control of the car keys and the TV remote, friends down the street - there is a certain spiritual starkness to it all.  Here I am.  This is me.  Who the heck am I?   

The thinking time is good - probably necessary - but the demons lurk in the corners and despite the fun and the beauty and the reconnections that this trip has offered, a piece of me will be very happy to roll into my own bed tomorrow night.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Mother’s Day–Take 2


While I stand by the sentiment of my first Mother’s Day post, I have to admit that today was full of emotional land mines.

The neighbor who I barely know who wanted to hug me…  the Facebook posts…. the TV shows…

And the acquaintance who I ran into at the grocery store.  We had known each other when our girls were in elementary school; we met at church, both of us attempting to ground our kids in some sort of spiritual truth.  We had even spent Christmas Eve together one year, but we never really reached that “friend” level.  And she had not heard of Molly’s death.

“How’s Molly?”   There is no easy answer, but in this case I attempted to mutter a non-answer and ask about her daughter.  No go.  She asked again.   “How’s Molly?”   So, I had to answer with the truth, and I was tearing up, and the acquaintance was embarrassed.  And we there we were in the frozen foods. 

She did no wrong by asking about Molly.  No wrong at all.  But after two years, I am not expecting the question, so it caught me off guard.  On Mother’s Day.   And it is very, very sad.  And I think I’ll protect myself a bit and stay home for the rest of the day.   

Mother’s Day


Not my favorite day of the year, this one.  As the mother of a child who has died, the day rings in a bit off key for me.
 
 
I am fortunate that my own mother taught me early that Mother’s Day is a mixed up holiday.   The cards and the meals and the flowers  were, to her, a money making conspiracy of sorts.   The sentiment of the day was backwards: it was she was grateful to us (her children) on Mother’s Day and  she didn’t want, need or expect gifts from us. 
 
 
So, I remember some strained holiday brunches at the dining room table with my grandmothers who received potted plants, but Mother’s Day was always a bit of a non-event when I was growing up.
 
 
With Molly, we had fun Mother’s Days…. going roller blading for the first time, spending a long weekend in Florida, attempting rock climbing.  The emphasis was on celebrating ourselves as a family.

I continue to believe in our family.   I am a mother, and Molly is our daughter.  I miss her body… her voice… her sense of humor.  Terribly.   But I am proud and beyond grateful to be her mother.  Always.  And today, that is what I celebrate.    

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Weddings


This past week was dedicated to the Royal Wedding.  My mom and my sister travelled here from Chicago and New York respectively and I hosted a three day event – which nearly as I can tell is 2 days longer than the royals themselves celebrated.   

The weekend was a nod to the past: I remember Mom waking my sister and me up to watch Princess Anne’s wedding on the old black and white TV in the early 1970s.  For the occasion, Mom made crumpets using cleaned out tuna cans as a mold.  We had quite the British morning and as food and entertainment at our house went, the whole event was a triumph that is remembered to this day.

As I was getting up at 4 AM to make the tea and watch William and Kate and all of the falderal, I missed Molly, of course.  I couldn’t help but wish that she was there to add the depth of another generation to the experience of this royal wedding.  

And yet, I know that I have to consciously step away from over-emphasizing Molly’s death.   While her death may in many ways be the defining experience of my life,  she would most likely not be living at home,  even if she were alive.  The wedding may not have been on her radar screen.  She would have been busy with school or a job or whatever 19 year olds are doing these days. 

So the challenge is to let the past be the past.   The past does not have a fast forward button; there is no way to count on or measure “what might have been.”    

William and Kate’s wedding was well observed at out house with tea and scones and lemon cake.  There was laughter and snarky commenting and a certain amount of vigorous conversation over which station we would commit to for the ceremony.

And Molly’s absence – while felt -  did not fill the room.  My sister, my mother and I filled the room and somehow, I know, Molly was present.