get me a medium size, not too big and not too little

As someone who has been in nursing for 33 years, the first half in oncology and the second half in palliative care, I am intimately familiar with the process of grieving.   I regularly run into people in the community whose mother, father, sister, brother, spouse, child, I took care of when they were dying.  When I see them they usually look at me, they cry, and we hug.  Then we talk about stuff.  Stuff like how things are going, how much they miss the person who died, how things went at the end, how what they are going through right now is normal... you get the idea.  

Well the other day it happened to me.  I unexpectedly ran into one of the people from hospice who took care of Angie.   She was a nurse who swooped in during a particularly rough spot, at a moment when I really needed help.   When I saw her, I initially did okay,  then... horror of horrors, when I was telling her how much I appreciated her... I started to cry.  Yes, I know it is good for me to experience all this, and it's ok to cry, but lordy.  It's hard. 

 

In the last weeks I have been missing Angie a lot.  I think about things I would have done differently (knowing I couldn't have at the time), I wish for a 30 minute post-death visit so I can be sure she is doing ok (knowing of course she is doing ok!), and most of all wanting to go pick her up so we can go to Sheridans for a caramel pretzel crunch.  I want her to tell me just once more "get me a medium size, not to big and not too little" and "be sure and get me a lid in case I can't finish it all" and "get some napkins you know I always need napkins".  Then watching her total enjoyment as she ate it and when she was done hearing her say "oooh that was good". 

Grieving is funny business.  We all need different things to get through it.  I'll tell you right now what is the most helpful to me.  Doing blind contour drawings of myself.  It makes me laugh like nobody's business.

I think after work on Friday I'll drive over to Sheridans and order up a carmel pretzel crunch.  Maybe I'll call ahead and let the people working know they should draw straws to see which one of them is going to get their picture drawn.  I'll just keep the part about me not looking while I'm drawing to myself.  That would only confuse them.   

Comments

[robin]

I miss my mom too...{{{hugs}}}

[Amy at love made my home]

Angie would love to know that you would be drawing people at Sheridans! xx

[Loretta]

Not too big, not too little: sums up a life well-lived. You are never too big and never too little to miss your mom. Forever. xx00xx

[Heidi]

Taking time to feel all of the emotions...so important! Love and peace to you, Carol.

[Kris]

What a lovely heartfelt post. Art is miraculously therapeutic, isn't it?

[chris oliveira]

Funny, I have been thinking that I've missed your Angie reruns. It's nice to read about her today. It's hard and good to grieve. Sending you hugs.

[Pat P]

Angie has a special spot in the hearts of all us readers (I know that is not proper grammar). I always liked your story of her saying "Don't be funny, Carol". And I don't even know why. Hugs.

[Linda Watson]

The thing about Angie that I most get from your stories is how much she flat out enjoyed life. Especially the everyday stuff. From what I know about you and your sister, I think she passed that trait along. Enjoy the caramel pretzel crunch. Heck, I already know that you will.

[gretchen]

Coming up on the first anniversary of my own mother's passing and still have my "moments'' too. This is my first birthday without her... the perfect day to do a blind contour self portrait- it will definitely make me laugh and I know it would have made her laugh too; thank you for the idea- it's just what I needed. Keeping you in my thoughts and prayers as we find our way along this new path, our mothers with us in our hearts always.

[marta traughber]

Oh, Carol. So sweet.

[Pam]

I love your posts about Angie- it sounds like she was a lot of fun, I love the humor and candor you bring to your posts about her. Grief is such a mixed bag- I'm sorry for the pain you feel, but also know the joy in remembering. Wishing you light and love.

[Judy H.]

Grieving is a funny business--so true. My dad's been gone over forty years and there are still things that hit me like a ton of bricks. Sending hugs from KC. Enjoy that caramel pretzel crunch. Those sweet memories are priceless.

[Joan]

Sending you big hugs...of course you'll cry, it's part of the process. And it's OK. Angie will be sitting there right beside you when you enjoy that Caramel Pretzel Crunch...not too big, not too little...Just right. And you'll enjoy every last bite.

[Sharron]

Yep, I so get it...sending hugs.... We're so lucky to have had the good stuff that makes us vulnerable to the blindsiding attacks of loss...

[Lida]

First time poster to your blog, I got a little teary-eyed while reading your post. I miss my mom too! Just this past month I started to buy the nutter butter pattie cookies my mom loved. Been thinking of my mom constantly since she left last October.

So go enjoy your Caramel Pretzel Crunch, I'll go get some nutter butter patties. Good memories.

[Isabel Sherwood]

You are and have always been a sweet daughter. I have been a daughter of a wonderful Mom that is with Angie now, and a Mom to a sweet girl who's expecting our first grandchild, a baby girl. When I read this post, my first thought was that I hope at the end of the day my girls and I have the same sweet connection you and your Mom had. Thank you for sharing.

[Domenico]

I miss her as well. some how the world doesn't seem as grand.