I have been a very unpredictable blogger lately—posting, pulling, posting, pulling. Okay, so, those of you that know me will say, this isn’t all that unpredictable! I’ve always been flighty and full of self-doubt…and yet, despite the insecurities, have tried to keep things “real” on this blog. You have told me that you appreciate this—my keeping things real…within reason, of course.
Yesterday was very hard. My emotions were running hot and cold, and writing about my parents made me feel vulnerable. And then they called me—my dear mom & dad—to ask how we were and wish Joe a happy 14th birthday. “Oh, and we’ve got some news…” my father said, and instantly my heart went on guard. “You know Deacon Jim from our parish?” he asked. “He was mowing his lawn the other day and had a massive stroke. The funeral will be tomorrow.”
I did know Deacon Jim. He was an ex-Marine (like my father) and walked the walk when it came to the Faith. He was only 70.
Boom! There you go. I started to cry.
Have you ever had a phone conversation with someone where you were crying and didn’t want them to know? I didn’t want my dad and mom to worry—didn’t want them to think that I wasn’t okay.
Because…I wasn’t.
I was sad and anxious and full of fear. I am sad and anxious and full of fear! These are human emotions, though—and perhaps I am called to blog my way through them because 1. You may be going through the same things yourself; 2. I am going to lose the people I love one day; and 3. This life, these fears are not the end.
My mother’s always told me that she’s read the last page. She knows the full story and guess what? she asks.
We’re the winners.
I do understand.
Yesterday my cousin called me to let me know my Meme (paternal grandmother) had past away that morning. She went on to tell me that a priest had been with her not more than 45 minutes before she passed. He had given her the Last Rites, prayed the Divine Mercy Novena with her and pressed a St. Faustina relic to her forehead. I lost it and bawled. Ugly, messy tears.
You see up until recently she had told me that going to Mass and the sacraments weren't something she was concerned with (even though she was born and raised in France as a Catholic). So this was what made me go crazy crying. She even had the Divine Mercy image *framed* in her room.
….oh, yeah. And as I'm crazy crying on the phone my oldest daughter comes in and tells me that my 6 yr. old boy is out on the roof retrieving his helicopter!
So, that was my day.
If you need someone to talk to, I'm here. If your kiddos are immunized for the chicken pox—come on over!! We could go to a park and get out in the sunshine!!
(we don't have any chicken pox, but are waiting for Bridget to get them….)
whether you call or not, DO get out today, get in the sunshine, take a day off of planning school and just enjoy summer. Go to a park, get some ice cream. And don't forget to pray.
I'll pray for you.
I'm sorry I forgot to mention this in my first comment, but I wanted to let you know that I will be praying for you today, Margaret. God bless you.
Thinking about you a lot lately. Keep the faith. In all things. Even if you have to cry your way through it. Crying is o.k.!
I'm so sorry for your grief! You have my love and prayers!
I have been going through the same realization started by (of all things) the birth of baby #3. It was such a hard labor and delivery and I just couldn't let myself go, do you know what I mean? The abandon that has to happen during childbirth? Anyway, somehow that experience left me realizing not only my own mortality, but those that I love as well.
For months I've been terrified that something would happen to a child or my husband, or myself and I just couldn't let it go. The panic would rise and I was left almost immobilized by it. And then I watched the movie The Rite, and the fear grew worse (great idea to watch that movie then, huh?). What I'm coming to realize though is that death is not the end. I won't be alone when that time comes (I will have Our Lady, my guardian angel, and I will get to see Jesus!).
And for those I love, this point seems even harder to accept. But instead of fearing it and dwelling on it, when the thoughts come, I pray for the grace to deal with it well when that time arrives. At least in this moment it's not that time, though I can't speak for the next moment. I'm learning to show love to those around me more, because I just don't know how much time I have left with them.
Long way to tell you that I am so, so sorry for your loss, and will keep you in my prayers.
I've been somewhat emotional myself lately. It isn't fun. It makes me feel so out of control. I can't even feel the way I want to feel. It is uncomfortable too. And it makes everything harder. It is harder to be patient with the kids and kind to my husband. I guess it is a part of life though. I'm trying to pray my way through it, with some cartoons on the side 🙂 (I'm on a diet, so the good stuff is out 🙂 )
I don't have a whole lot to offer, but you do have my sympathy and my prayers.
I love your mother's 'last page' quote. That is so true and comforting. Please tell her thank you from me. Hugs to you Margaret.
Right there with you. Perimenopause is really kicking in plus I'm waiting on interview results. Praying!
Kelly, that's an amazing and very beautiful story. May your Meme rest in peace.
Jamie, thank you. You're a dear…as always.
Barbara, we're in this together. You know that! You're my mom-of-slightly-older-children mentor.
Charlotte, thank you, too. I am grateful for your prayers.
Cmerie, feel free to go on for as long as you want! Some days we have to take it an hour at a time. We need to just keep looking up and (another of my dear mother's quotes) "trust 'til we bust."
Katherine, sympathy and prayers are a lot to offer. I'll take them. 🙂
Jennifer, I accidentally misquoted my mother this morning. I have since found a long-ago blog post and amended her words to "We're the winners." That's what she originally said.
And finally, Mary B, there's something to that perimenopause theory. It's not something good (!) but there you go. No one asked me if I wanted to go through it. 🙂
(((hugs))) I am sorry for this loss.
Your mother sounds like a lovely and wise woman.
When my father died, it was a slow process, and taught me so much. I had been very scared of death, but he reported deceased family coming to be with him, and a great peace that settled over him despite his own former terror, and if he could experience such things I knew it must be real. Hearing also that he is still with my stepmother in spirit has been lovely. The fear of loss remains, but the existential fear has been eased.
The last time my 81 year old mother visited she called me after she arrived back home. She wondered if I knew that my daughter, after saying goodbye and walking to the lobby with us, had turned back down the hallway to say goodbye one more time. "She came back and took a long good look at me as if it were the last time she would see me again."
No, I did not know my daughter had done that. But I'm glad she did.
It's hard being the youngest child in a family and seeing your parents age when you are still relatively young and when your own kids are so young. Think of little George and what he will be going through when you are 80 and he is 40. You will be to him (and all your children) what your parents have been to you.
Maybe it is something in the air. This is the second of your posts this week that I can totally relate to. Just spent the past few days crying a lot! I will pray for you.
God Bless.
I am so sorry about the sudden passing of Deacon Jim. Things like this really get us going, don't they?
I will keep him in my prayers, as well as you, my friend. (You still need to come up here, you know.)
love and blessings~
First time commentor here, and first off I want to let you know that you will be in my prayers. Second, I want to say thank you for posting this. It makes me feel less alone. I gave birth to my second child 5 months ago, and a week after a childhood friend passed away. Two months after that my grandmother passed away. It's been tough. Like a previous commentor touched on, not only am I grieving, I'm coming to terms with my own mortality and I have been so anxious. The thought of losing another loved one can often times bring me to tears, and the thought of the end of my own life, not being with my husband, or kiddos… *sigh* that saddens me. Anyway, this isn't about me, but I really appreciate you "keeping it real" on your blog.
Your mom is right. Have faith and it will see you through. I am 55, I have 4 children ages 26, 22, 22 and 14. My dad died in March and my mom has Alzheimer's . I have faith that my dad is in a better place now. It's tough with my mom but faith gets me through. Three years ago I was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma a blood cancer. I have been very lucky and the chemo med I take everyday works though I do have side effects. I am blessed with a wonderful family and my health could be much worse. When I was first diagnosed with cancer God gave me the following words. Strength, Courage, Grace, Compassion Dignity, and Faith. They get me through. They can get you through too. Count your blessings and live your faith. You are loved. Thank you for your blog. I enjoy it. I so miss the days when my kids were young like yours.
hmmmm….what to say to this beautiful outpouring of your heart?? i struggle myself with things such as this. it's a darkness that isn't wrong per se. i think YOU, margaret in minnesota, love MUCH. and when we love MUCH we FEEL much. some people never go to these "depths" of feeling or loving. many are content to live surface lives. going about their daily business without ever giving things like such a second thought. but i have to agree with your rockin' awesome mama and her SAGE advice. we do win! and BELIEVING that is a tough one!!! especially when we can't SEE God. faith is SO hard. just know that you, dear sister in Christ are not alone (even in the perimenopause thing. i've been dying to post about THAT and all of MY issues with the whole thing. but that's a whole 'nother can of worms!!!). and do cry!!!! cry. cry. cry. it feels so good when you are done. (except for when the puffy red eyes set in) and then you just need a glass of wine or something. or maybe beer. don't "they" say something like "cry in your beer". idk if i am even making sense at this AWFULLY late hour. i slept all day thanks to an awful 24 stomach bug my kids gave me. and now i just took a melatonin so i can go to sleep. so instead of finishing the rosary i started this morning. i am looking at blogs (how FAITHFUL is that??) no. really i am signing off now.
LOVE to you.
always.
ps. gosh your parents are just SO stinkin' cute!!! i am sure they LOVED their book. what a great idea. my parents live 13 miles away from me…and i still feel that guilt btw…just sayin'….
and it's not 3:52 am here. it's only 1:52. thank-u-very-much.
my word verification is:restsy.
i guess i should go take a restsy right about now!!!!
Margaret, you are a dear, and you really need not feel insecure. You are loved. Most importantly by GOD. You are His beloved daughter! He delights in you, and He made you exactly as you are. That truly is ENOUGH love. More than enough, actually =)
"God alone suffices."
But you also are blessed with family and friends who cherish your warmth and care and depth … and even your craziness! (I mean that in a good way.)
The other night you teased me about not replying to emails on the same day that I receive them. Um, well, just wanted to remind you that you can email me back so we can plan a play-date with the girls before school starts. That would give us some more "mom time," too. But only if that would be helpful. Sometimes being around people is helpful; sometimes it's not. Just wanted to let you know it's an option …
Like Barbara said, keep the faith! Pray, pray, pray, even if you're crying the entire time. The Lord is so kind and merciful. He loves you and receives you just as you are.
Margaret,
I don't know if I have ever commented on your blog, but I keep coming back to this post, it touched me greatly. I'm the youngest child and a late in life baby so at 36, I have parents who are in their 80s. Much of our relationship at this point is about parenting the parents.
They've been working to get their funerals planned and get all their affairs in order and I can't hardly bear to have a conversation about it. It makes me want to stomp my feet and have a good ole temper tantrum about it not being fair. The very thought of losing either of them makes me feel like a lost little girl.
I'm so blessed, I feel a bit guilty when I get so stressed out about it. I know the ending and they know the ending and are very much at peace about their mortality, your post is a good reminder to focus on that. I love your posts about your parents, they remind me so much of mine!
Erin
Hi Margaret,
I'm a long-time reader, and comment occasionally on your blog.
There's nothing wrong shedding tears at all. You needed to let them go.
I believe that your mother knows and cherishes the relationships she and your father enjoy with you and your lovely children.
I lost my father when I was 2, and my mom died when I was 17, a senior in high school.
I named my oldest daughter after her, and she reminds me a lot of my dear mother.
Also, I do think that our deceased relatives/friends do advocate for us in Heaven. Last Saturday, my van had problems, and the man who stopped to help had a car with a license plate read, "Trinka." That was my late grandmother's name, and I told him that.
I've thought a lot that my grandmother is praying for my family, and I take comfort in that.
Keep the faith and stay strong.
Love and prayers,
Gail
Oh Margaret, I wish I could give you a hug. And sit down with a cup of coffee and have a good cry with you. I'm often anxious and full of fear. It's ok. God loves you just the way you are. Even when you feel like a mess. And I love you too.
70 is too young! My mom died at 70 too. And Doug will be there in another year. Sorry you are going through a hard time! And we'd love one of those photo books too, if we can put in an order 🙂