No Worse News.

I used to cringe at the sound of any of my phones – home, cell or other. Everytime it rang, I knew there was gloom waiting on the other end of it. I knew it would be a bad situation. Especially if it came from one of the family members. There was ALWAYS bad news then. Something completely heart breaking that I would have ABSOLUTLEY NO control over.

The fact of the matter is now… that there is NO WORSE NEWS… than hearing that my mother has passed on from this earth. So I answer my phone with no fear now. I sat in a meeting where they informed us that they let go members of our workforce and the remaining ones would get a 3% pay cut in addition to more expectations as far as work load and expectations. I’ve had to work 2 days non stop from 11 AM – 3 AM to meet a goal at work. *shrugs*

No worse news.

I watched the 30 minute message that Barack gave 2 nights ago on my computer this morning at work (cause I was AT work when he delivered it originally). And I cried. At my desk. He talked about his mom, who died of cancer. And how lonely a process that was for her. And how she never got to meet her grandchildren. And how instead of spending her final days focusing on getting better, she poured over insurance forms from one employer to the next because everyone was pointing fingers at each other about who should pay for her well being. And suddenly, Mr. Barack Obama was truly right with me… where I’d been for the last 10 months. It was all I could do not to sob audibly so as to alert my co workers. But I cried. Good and hard. Because… he really gets it. Sad. Typing this, I get teary eyed because of the way he connected with ME on that message. And I’m in AWE, and AMAZED and SO VERY HOPEFUL. More hopeful than I’ve been in a REALLY LONG TIME about what being an American can mean to me again… And I watched Charles meet Barack. And his elder words of wisdom covered me and reminded me of my mom, my dad and my grandmother. And when he lamented about not being here in 4 or 5 years… his mortality was so real. But his HOPE for the future was STRONGER

McCain winning on Tuesday.

Yeah… that’s actually REALLY bad news…

http://www.voteforchange.com

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Chased by My Mind

Every night I go to sleep.

Every SINGLE NIGHT when I go to sleep.

No matter what I was doing the day before.

I dream about burying my mom.

It’s a different dream every time. One night Barack Obama came to pay his respects. One night I buried her then had a living funeral for my aunt. One night I waited at her crypt for them to seal it with the inscription (which I have to go check on today). Last night, I was explaining to someone what lengths we went through to bury her… but somehow she was in the room in the coffin. And my eyes played tricks on me again. I thought I saw her arms flail up (as if she was deep in thought and couldn’t come to a good conclusion). I dismissed that until I saw her turn over. So I rushed to her and said… “You’re AWAKE… YOU’RE ALIVE.” She looked at me and something wasn’t altogether right. One eye was off focus (wandering) a touch and her hair was like it was in the hospital; in a bun on top of her head. She mumbled something to me about not letting anyone know that I saw her that way, and she turned over and went to sleep. And woke up.

Every night. I bury my mom.

I’m not sure how I’ll stay sane this way.

I really miss her. More than I’ve missed anyone.

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Thought’s Orphan

They used a crank to lower her deeper into the coffin. It was slow and smooth – not jarring. Not disturbing. They covered her over in petal soft comforter looking material. And for a moment, my eyes tricked me in to believing that she looked… relieved; rested; protected like a little child freshly tucked in by her mom and dad. They shut the lid over her visage and screwed the coffin closed. Then the funeral director turned around and said to me and my family.

“The coffin is now closed and will NOT be reopened.”

On Saturday, October 11th, 2008 at 3:15 PM, the numbers all went backwards on the monitor and let us on the earth know that my mother’s spirit had made it’s final journey from this life. We’d all been watching the monitors since 8:00 AM like a warped ticker… an hour after the doctors called and told me that if I waited until visiting hours, we may be too late. It was all so sudden. She was FINE on Thursday. Then not so fine at all on Friday. Fresh from dialysis, she came back and was worst than I’d ever seen her. Completely dilapidated. Confused. Exhausted. I asked her what year it was. She said 1941. I said… “No mommy… Not the year you were born… what year is it now?” She hesitated. After much poking and prodding for veins for an IV and hospital tv show style doctors running down the hall… they moved her to ICU. Once they had her settled in at ICU, I walked into the room alone. And she was resting. Deeply. Peacefully. I called her name. “Mommy?” She opened her eyes and focused in on me. “You’re still here, petite cocotte?” she inquired through the oxygen mask. “Yes, mommy,” I responded slowly and deliberately so she could understand, “We wanted to make sure that you’d be okay before we left. But we’ll stay if you want us to. Would you like us to stay with you?” “Yes, please, stay with me.” She responded w/o issue. Then drifted into sleep again. Just as deep as if she’d never woken up. I stood still in the same place watching her rest. Taking in her features. Saying a silent prayer. 5 minutes later, her eyes popped open and she focused in on me again. “Baby? You’re still here???” this time more shocked than last. “Yes, mommy. You asked me to stay with you. So I’m right here.” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean like that,” she explained carefully. She took my hand. “I mean… go out there. Live your life. Go be with your husband. Make babies. Work hard and be a good employee. Have fun. And every now and again… come by and visit me. That’s all… isn’t that what you do now?” I nodded. “Good,” she confirmed, “Keep doing that. Go home. Get some rest, petite cocotte.” She blew a kiss through the oxygen mask and I kissed her forehead and went home.

I jolted awake at 7 AM and immediately called ICU… they transferred me 3 times, each transfer preceded by “Did the doctor talk with you yet?” – I knew that was a bad sign already. They had to intubate her the night before. She got that bad. We raced and broke laws all the way up to the hospital. There she was, eyes half open, breathing tube yanking down one side of her mouth; her body unnaturally rising and falling with the insistence of the respirator. We called her name and held her hands. She responded by squeezing and subsequently jerking her arms. She heard us. We got the priest in ASAP. He gave her last rites. After which, she was calm. No more jerking. Hours went by before she left. Giving all 15 of us an opportunity to whisper our loving thoughts and well wishes in her ear. I called Nininne, and put the phone up to mom’s ear so she could hear her words to her. And all our gazes rocked back and forth between her visage and the monitor. We instantly became experts in interpreting the numbers for heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen count. And we watched them… slowly slide backwards all day. Pray that maybe… just maybe… they might reverse their descent.

At 3:14, the numbers spiraled downwards. Everyone rushed to the bed and the list of loving nicknames came out. “Dendon!!!” “Tanti Denise!!” “Mommy!!” “Mammi Ti Den!” As if calling her name would have stopped her ascension. The machine registered all zeros and printed out a flatlined ticker. That was it. My mommy was gone.

Now, there is a much traveled middle passage between my regular every day thoughts and that end results. Lemme call mom… oh… wait…. *insert remembrance of the last week* She’s really gone… isn’t she…. And each time is just as painful as the last. I’ve gained entry into a fraternity of motherless children that I NEVER EVER wanted… and neither did they. But so far – we all speak a common language of loss and sadness and remembrance. Everyone has to go through it for the most part. It’s truly a matter of time.

No matter what your relationship – call your mom. Tell her what and how you feel. If you’re so lucky – go hug her and take in through all senses what that is. What she smells like. How her skin feels and how WARM it is. The real LOVE that she’s expressing to her baby child. And hold that memory for as long as you can.

Li’l mommy? I’ll miss you always. You were the very best mommy anyone could have asked for. Thank you for being mine.

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The Beautiful Distress of Mathematics

Sometimes you hear a line in a song or a movie and although the line doesn’t have total and outward logic or sense like a simple sentence, (ie – I walked the dog and then came home) you hear it and in all it’s gibberish… made PERFECT sense to you. It was a feeling you’d been trying to put to words… but somehow, the english language eluded piecing that emotion together. And maybe you didn’t know any other languages that might seem fit.

The Matrix (the only movie that I will acknowledge – the FIRST ONE) had a line in it like that… when Morpheus talks about the splinter in your mind…

I know *exactly* what you mean. Let me tell you why you’re here. You’re here because you know something. What you know you can’t explain, but you feel it. You’ve felt it your entire life, that there’s something wrong with the world. You don’t know what it is, but it’s there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.

I was in the movie theatre when I heard this line. And w/o the influence of ANYTHING… I felt immediately that something had been explained or described that I felt infinitely since my first cohesive thought. I almost cried sitting there in that theatre that I wasn’t alone to feel that way. Yet and still, you read it and it doesn’t make a whole lotta literal sense, but your HEART hears, feels and recognizes it.

One other such line is from my favorite, not well known remix of Jill Scott’s Love Rain. It’s really not a “remix” at all. It’s the same exact song, but instead of the part where she sings towards the end, she invites Mos Def to rhyme a piece of wonderfulness that made me fall in love with his lyrical ability INSTANTANEOUSLY. The line that grabbed me and shook me was…

You are the beautiful distress of mathematics.

And immediately… exclaimed YES!!! YES – I KNOW THAT feeling!!! I described it for someone tonight and he said “are you writing this down?” so I thought I’d blog it before I forgot. My interpratation of the line is:

you’ve got the theory down… and the practice to go with it…
the exercise of working out the equation is exciting because you’re sure you paid attention…
you’re so proud that you came out with an answer on the other end… just to realize it’s wrong…

because you didn’t include a negative somewhere… or you forgot to carry over a 1…
and you have to start all over again

*sigh* So much on my mind… I just can’t recline…

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