some weeks, nothing but blur
by bam
dispatch from 02139 (in which, in the end, you realize that whether you’re in harvard yard or far-off tahiti, some weeks it all boils down to the same old blur…)
for more than a minute, i’d decided that this week was best dispatched in nothing but snapshot. decided that if i dared type a word, i’d just slip the noose round all of us, and pull us all down into the murky sea in which i paddle.
it’s not been pretty around here this week. been the sort of week where all you wish for is a fine pair of wings, to fly away home. tuck back under the covers of your comfy old bed. despite its sag in the middle.
for more than a week now, we’ve been holed up here in a germ pit. a cauldron of germs, i like to think. all bubbling, and brewing, and running amok.
the tall guy fell first, down for the count with a cold and a cough, so bad he stayed home from school for a day. next up was the little guy; he’s been out of school for over a week now. the mountain of make-up work is enough to make me run for the hills.
there’ve been nights when, at the very same time, the kid and the cat were both getting sick. and the cat, realizing the bathroom was occupied, decided to do his part right there on the living room rug. nice.
so from 2:30 till 5 that night, i was the nurse and the char lady, running around with my mops and my rags and my buckets, cleaning this way and that.
only made it to three of nine classes this week. missed election night altogether. didn’t even stay up for the speeches.
but i did manage to meet the nicest pediatrician i’ve met in a very long while. would love nothing more than to sit down with her, over a long cup of tea. or, even better, follow her through her days, notebook in hand. or, sign up to be her partner in medicine, in the fine art of truly caring for kids, and the people who love them.
she called here twice this week, late in the evening, just to check on the little guy — he was that sick. so sick. scared me, the little guy did. when nothing stayed down from saturday through late wednesday night, i thought they might need to poke him with IVs, pump him with fluids, get him back on his feet.
poor kid missed basketball tryouts, the one thing he’d hoped would carry him through the long cambridge winter.
and then, when in my blurry-eyed stupor i reached way down low and too far across to grab a medicine spoon from the bowels of the dishwasher, i felt something go krrrrrrrrink, there in my back, where krinks are not a good noise.
ever since, i’ve been ambling around like some sort of odd-wired skeleton. one who tilts in the wind. even in no wind.
speaking of wind, we got our first snow. snow, sleet, hail, the whole shebang. did i mention that i suddenly realize how far we live from most of my classes? that nice brisk 17-minute walk now feels like a trek cross siberia.
and, suddenly, visions of home swirled in my head. that nice old station wagon, asleep in the car barn, tucked in for its long winter’s nap. i remembered how it used to drive me wherever i wanted to go.
say, to the grocery store. a modern convenience, one i’d too long taken for granted, apparently. a place where, in one fell swoop, you can pick up a crate of kitty litter and a tub of ricotta. who knew there’d come a day when that simple equation took on the glimmer of luxury?
and so it went. i’ll not drone on forever here. you get the point: some weeks, no matter the ZIP code, no matter the wrappings and trappings, it’s all best left a blur.
in light of the true tragedies of the week, the displaced folks in new york and new jersey, hit first with sandy and then the nor’easter’, and in a week when our truly beloved lamcal lost her mama, i should not utter a single word. forgive me. just keeping my promise to type a dispatch a week. we all weather our share of lumps and bumps, some weeks it’s just harder than others, when they all swirl in an unstoppable torrent. my true prayer this week is for lamcal, whose heart is filled with the ache of the loss of a lifetime. sending love, always.
Oh, dear lamcal, our heartfelt sympathy to you and yours on the loss of your mom. So very hard. Our prayers and love to you across the cyberspace. And big, big hugs.
And bam, what a week you’ve had, and how very normal to long for your own homestead in the midst of the trials. Do hope poor T is on the mend and that you manage to continue to stay well. Glad to hear you’ve found a good doc — it’s a world-changer, for sure. What a good team you two would make. And have made for T this week.
Yes, a tragic week for so many, we count our blessings, but we don’t discount our own heartache, either, for that is denying our own selves. We instead gather at the table, pull up a chair, and listen to each other’s hearts, providing what little comfort we can from too far away.
Thank you to all who gather here. You have been a blessing to me in many ways. And thank you, bam, for providing us this gathering space. Lots of love.
Love and prayers of wellness for everyone. Take some small time for yourself dear, and sit in that 3rd floor room full of windows looking out on the beauty of snowdusted rooftops. Oh, and maybe read Frost’s Stopping By Woods. Maybe this week’s events will lead you onto another path, one less traveled or even one you have traveled before?
bless you always, nancy. always, always. the weekend is indeed ending with less blur. the sun is out, the mercury has risen to a fine 61. and walking heals not just an achy back, but an achy soul as well.
thinking of lamcal, over and over….
Yes, what a week it was. Poor little Ted fell prey to the flu that befell my house, too. My Joey lost a week of school and I, too, fear the make-up homework that’s sure to hit us like bricks come Tuesday.
Our precious lamcal … we hold you in a long-distance embrace and pray that sweet memories will comfort you in the loss of your dear mother. xoxo
Our dear friend, another Girl Scout mama from Joey’s Troop, has the lion’s share of her family in Staten Island. Sandy’s fury has left them homeless, powerless (in more ways than the electric company can be blamed for), and grieving the loss of loved ones swept away by unimaginable devastation. Homes torn from their foundations, family members washed away in the tide and gone from their lives forever. I cannot even imagine the heartache they are facing.
Yes, bam … you are so right. There are times when we want to yank the covers over our heads and stay under there until the coast clears. We’re human, we feel pain, emotion, and fear. But, the sun still rises each day with promise. Teddy’s flu, your back … even Turkey Baby’s tummy … hope all are improving and life returns to the picturesque New England scene you’re blessed to be in right now. Hope all is well, dearest wonderful bam. You are greatly loved. xoxo
oh, geez, who knew there could be two kids outa school for a whole week so so many miles from each other. we are already diving into the make-up work, and oh goodness i see why i am not a teacher. hope joey is pink of cheek again. and prayers and more prayers for all those shipwrecked in sandy’s wrath…….
Just catching up here and last week…and how lovely to find that you found Dorothy, who is not Chicago by birth, but living here for a good part of her childhood. I am sure this town fed and nurtured her spirit. I have always wondered where she lived on the north side and where she worshipped before heading off to NYC. I have always found her intimidating…her passion may not allowed for much humor, yet I love her face in her older photographs. She looks stern and passionate and so would she need to be to inspire generations of Catholic Workers.
I saw that Polly mentioned Pema Chodrun and she really has been my spiritual go to gal for many years. She is spirited and SPIRIT, and funny and so compassionate and honest. Reading her is great and listening to her is even more enjoyable. She has the best east coast accent when discussing the dharma. She teaches the practice of tonglen which is just the most powerful experience one can bring to a relationship.
Little old ladies should run the world…and The Thirteen Grandmothers is a great place to start. http://www.grandmotherscouncil.org/
Anyway…I have shared with BAM, but my own dearest old lady mother passed away a week ago today. We celebrated her this last weekend. She had been slowly taken from us by memory loss and heart issues over many years so it was a whisper of a passing, but we were able to be with her in the final days and be present with her at the time of transition. It was beautiful. In some ways, she is my inspiration and model of a fully lived life of love. We had been sitting with her for two and a half days, reading to her from her bible, holding her, hugging her, kissing her and encouraging her to let go when one of my brothers blew in the door, sat at the head of her bed, put is arm around the top of her head and said “Ma, get your angel wings on. It is time to fly” and sure if she did not that moment. It was so peaceful. I was able to help the hospice lady wash her and prepare her body. It was the most sacred and peaceful experience of my life. I feel so blessed.
My mom, Fran Lamb, was the eleventh of fifteen children and then went on to raise eight children. She was a CCD teacher and Eucharistic Minister. At 52, she went back to school and got her associate degree in early childhood education at and taught Head Start for 9 years and then volunteered at the hospital caring for babies. She not only took care of us, but had an open door policy for all our friends and cousins who needed an ear, a meal, or a place to stay.
This last weekend was a beautiful celebration for my mom. The wake was busy enough that we had a steady line of people for four hours and heard lots of stories of mom from all our cousins, some aunts, friends that we grew up with, their parents, and also my mom’s friends who grew up with her and loved her much. It was a good turnout considering mom has really been out of the social scene for 8-9 years because of her memory loss. There was much laughter and a few tears.
The funeral mass was at the parish where we all went to grade school and lived most of our life in Lakewood. We had a reception in the school hall and were able to catch up with more cousins and family/friends. From there we were onto the home of one of my brother’s and sat in the warm fall sun where my mom loved to sit and we continued to celebrate family. Feeling blessed by my family in Ohio. my Chicago family and this wonderful table. On with Thanksgiving…in many forms.
oh, dear beautiful lamcal, so now we source the so much. your mama, the open ear, the extra chair and coffee mug for the whole world, starting with those nearest and dearest. can we ask for anything more in life? and to have filtered all that love and wisdom into the beautiful soul we know and love, the one who has gifted us so many times here at the table, and who will continue to, and continue to. and thus your mama will always be alive in your stories, in your laughters, in the way you wallop us with wisdoms in the midst of one of your sentences, when we don’t even realize we are about to get a world truth, a lasting truth, till suddenly we’ve swallowed your words then felt them leap into hearts, open our eyes, open our thoughts. and the best mark: when long after we’ve tiptoed away from the table, they still linger, your words, and we find they are informing our days and our decisions.
your mama was a saint. and she raised an angel. and all of us are the richer for it. how beautiful that you, in the end, were the one who bathed your mama for heaven’s gates….sending love. upon love. xoxox
Oh lamcal … what a precious time in the last moments of your mama’s life and a proud tribute to her. She is no doubt rejoicing with the saints and wouldn’t trade places with any of us. You will see her again one day, dear friend. xoxo
lamcal, your soul sounds so peaceful. How very wonderful that you were there at your mum’s transition and to help prepare her; a sacred time you will always have in your heart. Prayers and hugs from here at the table.
Thank you for sharing your mother’s passing with us here at the table, lamcal in such beautiful prose. i shall remember the “whisper of a passing” line as my own mother’s memory decreases and she becomes a shadow of her former energetic self.Thank you from someone you don’t know at the table but who is always grateful for your words.
lamcal, I’m seeing your mom’s room as a tableau, and feel the love wafting among you. And after, through the tears, smiles and laughter accompanying the stories from friends who loved her. A hand from another one you don’t know reaches across this table to you. Thank you for sharing . . . God bless you.
oh blessed chair friends, do you not love how everyone is circling round lamcal, how through all the years and all her words of kindness and love, she has laid down a tent in all our hearts, and without even setting eyes on her, we can know that we love her, love her story, and her history. love and honor her mother, and hold her up, here at a table? i love the heart at this table. bless you all. you bring tears to my eyes with your kindness. i think when i get back home, it will be time for chair gathering 2.0, a real one, nothing virtual about it……. stay tuned.
Thanksgiving for the reflections of mother-child love…..Bless this table for its rich and abundant gathering of souls. It has soothed and comforted mine own.
Amen.