New Beginning

Optional listening while reading: New Beginning by Tracy Chapman

Dear Mom,

I have been trying to figure out how to tell people that the doctor at your assisted living facility referred you to hospice care — meaning that based on your weight loss and decline, you are expected to be gone within six months. Though the hospice nurse kindly said you have "reserves" it's strange to be given a timeline.

What can I do to make you feel at ease? What can I do to feel my emotions while not collapsing into a pile on the floor? And maybe you would say, "sometimes you have to collapse," and gently rub my back or my feet.

My therapist says I have to "allow all my emotions." They come like waves, the sadness, the grief, the gratitude, and the anger all swirling about.

But you've also prepared me for loss. Knowing your deep loss is braided into your being — that creativity and art are some of the ways we channel our emotions. As Sandra Cisneros said, "poets are in the profession of turning grief to light." And we are both poets conjuring a path for one another.

There's nothing left to say —  I have followed Wendy MacNaughton's advice already and said the important words: “I forgive you. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you. Goodbye.”

I still listen to Ross Gay on repeat. And I am writing. I'm writing between tears. I am writing through tears. I am crying, because you always said "it's ok to cry."

Here I go... trying to finish that book about you, based on your writings and a few of my own.

Goodbye, I mean to say

And thank you

Every day.

LOVE LOVE

Your youngest darling angel daughter

As I rearranged my room after the call with the hospice nurse, an envelope dropped out of the books I moved from one shelf to another. And then I found a thank you letter I wrote for my 6th period high school psychology class and an interview I did with you for my Living Consciously: Philosophy in Everyday Life my first year at Pitzer.

Edited for cringe and clarity.

Psych 6th Period 3/6/03

Dear Mom,

For psychology, we have been asked to write a letter to our parents.

What I will always remember about you is your undying support and unwavering compassion. Sure, I'll remember some of the more traumatic moments as well, like when we got stuck in the porta-potty at Stinson Beach. But I think I will remember you making dinner and helping me whenever possible.

I know I'll remember your feminism and strong belief that a woman can do whatever she wants. I'll remember how, on the few Christmas's we went to church, you changed all the "he's" to "she's" and "gods" to "goddesses." I could go on telling you what I'll remember, but I want to make sure you know that I will always remember and cherish the time we spent, and continue to spend together.

There is not a thing that you have not had influence on, but less so in the way that you made me do something — and more in the sense that you let me run wild. I am who I am because of you and what you've taught me. I know how to ask for help when I need it, how to cry (because it's good for you). and I'll continue to try to remember to take my vitamins.

You have taught me that it is not material wealth that matters, but "a full fruit basket." I will always value a full fruit basket.

You have taught me how to be an observer as well as someone who stands up for what they believe in.

Thank you for establishing a strong community support network on which I am able to rely and thank you for being my mommy.

Love,

L

1. Mom Rocks: In which I attempt to introduce my mother and this project.
2. 'Are You My Sister?': In which my Josie-mama thinks I am her sister and I find a letter my mother wrote to her sister after she died in my mother's arms.
3. Mandala's Tiles and Poetry: In which I go looking for tiles in India and re-discover my mother's love of mandalas and some poetry-letters she wrote after my grandmother died. 
4. A Purple-Infused 80th Birthday: In which I marvel at the passage of time, birthdays, and garden metaphors.
5. The Cottage and The Blue Couch: In which I share a draft of an essay about friendship, love, a cottage, and a blue couch.
6. Wearing Pantsuits to Church: Values Search: In which I look at my mother's values alongside my own.
7. A Dream Realized: Journey to India, 1979: In which I share a draft of an essay about my mother's first trip to India, and the next trip when she met my father. 
8. 'Cry Tests' & Journey to Peninsula School: In which I examine a piece of writing on how Josie got her dream job at Peninsula, thanks to the supportive community around her. 
9. Submerge!: In which I veer off from the aim of this newsletter and share an essay I wrote about my father's death. 
10. More Mandalas & Self-Acceptance Training: In which I take a deeper look into the self-acceptance work my mother did and also appreciate the beauty of a Korean spa and friendship.
11. Labyrinth: Portals to Love and Other Places: In which I write to my mother and read some poems she wrote in 1987. ‘What is the matter with aloneness anyway?’ she wrote in 1987.
12. Retreat to Spirit: In which, 'Are you my sister?' get's a reprise, and I ponder some wisdom from an email from 2010.
13. Unexpected Gratitude for Gifts Already On Their Way: In which I receive a gift that was written and created over 35 years ago. And something that was broken gets mended.