Thank You, Collin!

My nephew had the choice to celebrate his birthday with a weekend in New York City, or to spend the weekend with us.  He chose to spend the weekend with us.

I don’t think that he is old enough (11) to understand how he has honored us with his choice.   For him, we are a safe place where there are plenty of video games and not too many rules or restrictions.  I don’t think we’re a service project.

I do think that Collin’s choice to spend his birthday weekend with us is a huge affirmation.  It suggests that we are good with kids – fun to be around – a choice worth making.  I know that Molly saw us that way too – I really do;  I don’t think her death was in any way about us.  But it is incredibly special to know that young people continue to look up to us, to need us, to seek us out.  Our nieces and nephews, Molly's friends, our neighbors - young people are at the heart of our healing.  And we are grateful.

So this weekend I’ll be baking a lemon birthday cake, buying some balloons, and heading to the local adventure park.  Maybe we’ll go to Dave and Buster’s.  I know we’ll play lots of wii. 

Collin has voted with his birthday in our favor, and I can’t wait to make it a special and fun occasion for all of us.

Vegas

There is no right way to mourn.   

During the first six weeks after Molly's death, I spent a lot of time with family and friends; I stayed in the Hamptons and walked for miles on a deserted beach; I let people come visit and take me out to lunch.  And I went to Vegas.

Yes, Vegas.  Frances had been planning for months to play poker in a tournament and one of the first decisions she had to make after Molly's death was whether or not to play.  Her decision process went something along the lines of, "I can stay home and be miserable and lonely, or I can go out and do something and attempt to get back on my two feet."  She chose the latter with my complete support.

So my choices were.....  stay home by myself (NOT a good plan); ask her to stay home (which she would have done, but why?  So that we could both be miserable?); or go with her.  I chose to go with her.

For me, the trip was healing in a really weird way.   I slept for the first time since Molly's death, I spent tons of time alone in  whirlpools and saunas reliving everything I knew about Molly.  I journaled; I had some great meals.  There was even some laughter with friends who joined us.  I still remember the laughter; it felt so right and it felt like Molly was right there laughing with us. 

There were tears too.  There will always be tears.  

Indigo Girls have a song with a line that just keeps replaying through my brain, "We're better off for all that we let in.".  It's true.  I don't want to mourn on someone else's schedule or according to someone else's belief system.   Part of this whole experience  has been staying open to experiences and people and letting them in to my life.  I have been enriched every time.    (http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/indigogirls/allthatweletin.html)

Friends, Pain and Sabbath

After a weekend with friends - all of whom are facing a crisis of one sort or another - it felt good to experience Sabbath.

On Friday and Saturday we powered up the crock pot, pulled out the flannel sheets for the guest beds, poured some wine and some Chai Tea and settled in for a long fall weekend. And it was wonderful, except that within that LL Bean picture, our friends were crying - or taking up smoking again - or screaming at our walls becuase there was no one else to scream at.

Almost immediately after Molly's death, I sensed myself becoming increasingly open to the pain of others. Part of this had to do with the ever-so-public nature of teenage suicide. There was no way to avoid people - and I didn't really want to. So there I was, in the darkest days of my life, in a confusion of shock and sleeping pills, with a spotlight of sorts focused right on my heart. And having seen my heart, I sensed folks wanting to share their hearts with me.

Molly's death also humbled me in a way that has made me more available to others. I am really proud of Molly. She is amazing. And I thoroughly enjoyed her successes in horseback riding and acting and music and school and just about anything that she tried. She lived surrounded by love and she never questioned that love. And yet she died by suicide. The humility involved in living her death has given me a new compassion for the pain of others. My friendships have definitely deepened over the last year and a half.

So to get back to this weekend... friends are over... and they are all hurting... and then they leave. Sunday. I had to do two things. First - spend some time at the cathedral; and second - get on the treadmill. The cathedral is the place that - at least for now - calms my soul. The treadmill strengthens my body to hold the pain of others, to prepare for the discipline of listening, and to fight the uncertainties of middle age!

I am also working on my art homework, which is due tomorrow and is very hard and while I like it very much, drawing is one of the hardest classes I have ever taken.

I will keep you posted.

Thinking Differently

I am working at redefining myself.

When my daughter died by suicide in 2009, I couldn't figure out if I was still a mom. She was our only child and the work of the largest part of my soul for 17 years. Initially, her death took that role from me. Today, with some distance from her physical death, I can see that, while "Mom" is no longer something that I do it continues to be, in a very deep way, who I am.

Molly's death has become a mandate for me. A mandate to stretch and take risks. A mandate to learn and to grow and be the best that I can possibly be. A mandate to live. I am beginning to live as boldly as I possibly can because there is no other way to honor Molly's life. She lit up my life for 17 years... and continues to.

In the midst of tragedy, it is important to note that I get how lucky I am. I can afford to take a year off because of a windfall and because my partner of 26 years works for a great company and I can lean on her for health insurance and a financial plan B if our finances go south. We are doing this - like we have done everything for so long - together.