Like a brick in the head

Grief. It can sure knock me upside the head when I least expect it.
It's like cruising along the scenic route, watching the sun set, and then, 
in a split second, you realize that you've crashed. You didn't see it coming.
It just happened. That's grief. 

I was cruising along. I was breathing a sigh of relief, for a moment anyhow.
I had wrangled free from the grip of grief. But, it does manage to catch up
with me eventually. I'm getting better then it, though. I'm not trying 
to outrun it. But, it seems to be having a harder time catching up to me, 
and even when it does, it has a hard time getting hold of me. 

But, lately, it has had me in it's grip pretty tightly. I keep trying to get free.
But, anything I try, doesn't work. I'm back to when nothing I did worked. 
Nothing I did seemed to loosen it's grip on me. 

I think it's amazing what the difference a day can make. The other day, 
I was fine. Today, I struggled with grief all day long. It just hurt, and hurt.
And, it wouldn't stop. 

A day. Just a day. The last time I ever talked to my mom on the phone 
was on Dec. 10th. A Friday. An ordinary day. With ordinary chores, 
ordinary weather, ordinary words. But, the next day would 
change my life forever. Flip my world upside down. The next day, 
my mom had passed away. In just a day. A single day. 

A day. Before she passed away, she told me that she, I, and the kids 
would bake goodies at Thanksgiving time to have ready for Christmas. 
I still struggle with this statement. I keep asking myself, 
"If she had plans in life, then why did she die?"
This has never made any sense to me. She MADE plans. 
So, why did she go?  She talked about how she had to see 
my oldest graduate, how she wanted to be around when 
my children get married, and how we could spend time 
together because she was finally retired. 
I just don't understand why she had to go.
I may never understand. 

One of the hardest things I struggle with is the fact that 
I may not get to see her for another 25 to 50 years. 
That's a long time not to see someone.  This breaks my heart as well. 

I know I'll see her again some day. One day. And, it may be an ordinary day, 
with ordinary weather. People using ordinary words. I just hope that 
when it's my turn, that I'll be blessed enough to have my husband 
and children with me by my side. As I take my last breath here on earth, 
and take my first breath in heaven.

Someone like me

Aaaah!

It is so refreshing to meet someone who is hearing impaired. 
It is incredible to meet someone who is a hearing impaired 
mom and homeschooler of six! And, we almost didn't meet. 
Circumstances put us in the same place during a single 
moment in time. We both agree, God had his fingerprints 
all over that meeting. 

It was so exciting to share common joys and frustrations 
that appear to be so rare in the general public. 
It isn't so much about being hearing impaired
in and of itself. That isn't really anything unusual. 
It's about the challenges of raising and homeschooling 
hearing children, sharing a marriage with a hearing husband, 
and not losing our sanity in the midst of it all. 
That is what makes it rare. 

I look forward to sharing time with this mom of six. 
Sipping coffee, discussing ways to overcome everyday 
challenges while trying to get along in a predominately hearing world. 

Hopefully, this friendship will grow to be close and long lasting. 
Time will only tell.  

Another Anniversary

Today is 9/11.
Today is also the 9 month anniversary of my mom's death.

Today, though a reminder of a tragedy and a loss, became a day
of renewal. Today, I cleaned. I de-cluttered. That in itself says nothing. But, it was a turning point in my grief that I could feel.

I feel like I've been laying dormant for months now. I still managed
to do my daily work, chores, etc. But, today is different. 

Today, each spot I cleaned and emptied clutter, felt like I was
clearing out grief. Emptying a cupboard of plastic ware, and 
arranging them neatly, and throwing out the old, felt good.
Keeping memories of her, but throwing off the grief that 
has gripped me for nearly a year now is becoming easier.

Symbolic perhaps. Examining my life. Keeping what 
is important, and throwing out what is not. Deciding who is 
important to me, and making an effort to show them I care. 
And, those who aren't, I'll let them go. It hurts to let people go.
But, I cannot change them, or make them want me in their life. 
So, I de-clutter my life. I don't need all the drama, mood swings,
and pain that some people bring to my life. 


So, even though today is a memory of a tragedy, for me
it is a turning point. Almost a celebration of freedom from
the grips of grief. I look forward to my real celebration on 
January 1st. When I have gotten through an entire year of 
grief and a whole year without her.    
To my mother, to God and to January 1st.  :o)

I saw God's fingerprints

It's been a year since I last saw my mom alive. 
She came to visit here, at my home, in September of last year. 
I never saw her again until it was time to prep her for her funeral.

But, I have seen God's fingerprints all over my life this past year. 

I saw Him when I needed strength to clear my mom's house out 
in a hurry because someone had me under the gun to get her stuff.
He wanted her memory erased forever.

I saw God when Valentine's Day rolled around, and one of my 
sister-in-laws sent each of my kids something small in the mail.
My mother would always do this for my kids; but not this year.

I saw Him on Mother's Day. A day that I tried to avoid because it
hurt so much. My first one without my mom. But, I couldn't avoid it.
I got a phone call from everyone I care about.

I saw His fingerprints on the vacation that my father provided
for us. A much needed vacation.

I saw God on my worst days. The days I was emotionally on my knees.
The days I cursed from anger and pain. When I lashed out the hardest.
The days I was too tired to be angry, so  I wept instead.
Those days, God whispered to me, calling me. "Come closer".

I saw God when a sunny day seemed like a waste, because
all I could see were the tears falling from my eyes. 
God would whisper that it would be alright. It was fine to not feel 
"normal" yet. That I needed time for my wounds to heal. 


I saw Him on the days I didn't even want to get out of bed or get dressed.
His fingerprints would be on a card waiting in my mailbox on a day I needed 
it most. Or a phone call from someone who called just to ask how
I was doing. 


I saw God in a colorful bouquet of flowers from my husband. I often got
those on the days that my husband felt helpless in easing my grief, but
he still wanted to do something for me.

I saw God a lot this past year, and the year isn't even out yet.
I still have my first birthday to get through without my mom.
There's Thanksgiving. And, this Christmas will really be my second
without her. But it will feel like my first. She died, last year, exactly 
two weeks before Christmas. I was in such shock, it didn't even feel like 
Christmas to me at all. I avoided all happy Christmas music at any cost.
Going into a department store to shop for clothes to wear to the funeral
was almost unbearable. The contrast between the merry tone, bright colors,
smiling faces, and laughter that filled the air, was a stark contrast to the deep
grief that I was going through. But, I pulled through. With God's help. And, 
the help of my husband.


I am looking forward to December 31st. For me, it marks the final day
of a full year without my mom. January first of last year, felt like the first day
of my life without my mom. It was the first day I had to be in my own home 
since I found out she had passed away.


There is still time for God to put his fingerprints on my life this year. 
For this reason, I continue to keep my eyes open, searching for Him.
His fingerprints. And what He holds in store for me. I can hardly wait!

Flip Flops in Heaven

I like flip flops. 
They're colorful. 
They're fun to wear.
Flip flops say, "relaxation, fun in the sun, sandy beaches, painted nails, 
and interesting places to go". 

But, they say something more to me. I often think about my mom's 
battle with leukemia. And, the poem, Footprints in the Sand comes to mind.
I picture Jesus, helping my mom along, as she struggled through each 
chemo appointment, through biopsies and port implants. 
Jesus, sitting by her side with his back leaned against the bathroom wall, 
as she spent days hovering over the bathroom toilet as sickness and poison 
spewed from her body. Jesus, kneeling by her bedside, watching over her sleeping body,
praying to His Father; asking Him to help my mom get through the hour, the day, 
the week, the next round of chemotherapy. 

I think about flip flops. 
And, I think about my mother, up in Heaven, walking along a beach, 
side by side with Jesus. Both of them wearing flip flops. 
His are worn leather. 
Hers are hot pink and purple.
They walk side by side along the beach, talking. About her life, how she lived, 
how she gave, and of course, she would have to brag about her grandchildren.

Yes, I do believe that when life got hard for her here on earth, He carried her. 
And, yes, I believe that they stroll along a beautiful beach unlike any on this earth.
And, I believe that when I go Home, after Jesus has talked to me about my life and 
how I spent it; my mom will be waiting for me, on a beach, 
with hot pink and purple flip flops. 
Heavenly flip flops.

The frustration of being HOH

I don't know why people say it. 
I don't know why hearing people say it. 
Why do they say, "You have the best of both worlds"?
I am hearing impaired, and I can honestly say, it is NOT the best of both worlds.

It's like saying to a person with only one leg, "You have the best of both worlds. 
You are not totally leg-less, and you can still walk like everyone else". 
"You can experience both worlds.... the leg-less/or leg-impaired and the leg-ies."
 How many people go up to a one legged person and tell them how "lucky" they
are to be one legged?  
I know, it's insulting.

I have heard this about being hearing impaired for my entire life. 
When, in fact, I am not a part of either world. 
The deaf do not fully accept me because I do not fit the definition of being deaf, 
nor do I know ASL because it was discouraged from being used in the schools I attended. (Lip-reading was pushed, SEE was acceptable, ASL was discouraged.) 

I am not part of the hearing world because I cannot fully hear like a hearing person.
Generally, there are numerous misunderstandings. 
Hearing people think I am being a snob because I do not hear them and they 
interpret it as being ignored. 
Or, I keep silent because I'm unsure of a conversation topic, and they 
may interpret this as not caring.
I misunderstand hearing people for more reasons then I can list. 


No, I am not part of either world. 
I am a part of a world that is altogether different. 
There are others like me, I know. 
But, I know of none nearby. 
And, I know of none at all that homeschool hearing children. 
For these reasons, I often feel isolated. 

I have often felt that my hearing loss and my personality are in 
constant conflict with each other. 
My hearing loss keeps me isolated (I can be in a room of 80 people, 
and I am still isolated). 
My personality screams, "I want to fit in! I want to socialize 
and mingle like everyone else!" I want to have social dinner parties, 
potlucks that are overflowing with conversation and laughter. 
Laughter that is preferably not about me, but shared with me. 
These are some of my deepest longings. 


But, for now, the best that I can do is to bungle through life with hearing people.
To hold my breath in a crowded social situation and hope and pray that I don't 
say the wrong thing at the wrong time. 
To try not to embarrass myself.
But, this is stressful at best. 
A total nightmare at worst.

My wish: to either have a bionic ear or for hearing people to become more
sensitive and understanding overnight. 
At this rate I don't think I'll see either in my lifetime.

So, for the rest of my lifetime, I will continue to do what I have been doing....
Thanking God for the good friends and family that I do have that take the 
time to slow down, re-explain things, re-explain things again, interpret for me,
make phone calls for me, point out what I have missed, and apologize on my
behalf to the hearing people that I accidentally insult by unknowingly 
ignoring them. 
Yes, I do thank God for these rare people in my life. 
Some come to stay, some just pass through for a brief time. 
But, I am thankful for them all.