Elegy

I am not a purveyor of the “everything happens for a reason” philosophy, and long ago, I abandoned the notion that God never gives us more than we can handle, but I do see something positive resulting from Robin Williams’ tragic death yesterday: people are talking about mental illness and suicide. In status updates, in blog posts, in twitter feeds, people are sharing personal stories about how depression and suicide has affected them or people they love, and I think it’s time for me to share mine.

My father committed suicide almost 28 years ago. He died three weeks after my 17th birthday. I was a senior in high school. On Thursday, I will be the same age as my mother when she was widowed.  When the shocking headline flashed on my computer screen yesterday afternoon, it took my breath away. I gasped, shook my head, and burst into tears – not Robin Williams! Not another brilliant, gifted person gone too soon!

It is hard to describe the devastation I felt when I realized my mother had just discovered my father, dead, in our garage. When I woke up the morning of September 8, 1986, something felt “off.” It was dark, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the house. I showered and started getting ready for school – I remember putting hot rollers in my hair – and watched my mother walk down the hall, past the guest bedroom where my father had slept the night before. The next thing I remember, my mother was running into the kitchen and dialing 911. There was no screaming or crying – my mother went preternaturally calm in times of crisis – but I instantly knew that my father was gone, and there was nothing any of us could do about it.

The rest of the day comes back to me in bits and pieces: me, telling my sister our father was dead (I wish I had done it with more gentleness and compassion;) my aunt and uncle coming over to our house and then going with me to my maternal grandmother’s and telling her Daddy was gone; waiting outside as friends and family gathered to support and comfort us; our friends, the Glazers, removing my dad’s car from our garage and parking it in front of their house so we didn’t have to see it; our minister, Bill Forbes, coming over and praying with my mom, sister, and me in my parents’ bedroom.

I helped my mother make funeral arrangements and write my father’s obituary. I was sitting with her at our kitchen table when she put her head down and sobbed, knowing her life was irrevocably changed by one solitary act. The night before the funeral, my mom, sister, and I lay awake in the king-sized bed my parents had shared; we got up the next morning, and moved like zombies through the burial, memorial service, and reception, which we had at our house because we couldn’t bear to greet attendees standing in a long line outside the church.

Cards and flowers flooded our house. The doorbell rang incessantly, with neighbors and friends coming to sit with us and mourn the death of someone who was, truly, a stalwart in the community. Everyone shook their heads – how could he do this? Why didn’t he reach out to someone? How could God allow this to happen? I am grateful that the people in our faith community didn’t give us pat answers to these complex questions. We don’t know why he did it – he didn’t leave a note – and we were angry he didn’t ask for help, and though God didn’t mean for this to happen, we knew God wept with us for the loss of a good man.

My friend, Michael Kirby, a Presbyterian minister in Chicago, posted this on Facebook last night:

None of us can know the demons others face. None of us can know how a mind as brilliant as his could not find sufficient light to step into another day.

So instead of knowing…

We will remember the laughter and the tears…we will stand on our desks and declare our dreams…we will pretend to be Scottish nannies to stay near those we love…we will laugh…and we will be light for one another…and we will covenant anew to hold one another in the darkness until the slivers of dawn appear.

In deep sadness, in useless anger, in a troubled compassion…we pray for this genius who is lost to the world far too soon and lift prayers particularly for those whose mourning is not for a distant icon, but a beloved friend, father, husband and family member.

RIP Robin Williams.

Instead of knowing why my dad took his own life, I will remember the laughter and the tears…I will stand on a beach with my niece and nephew and listen to the waves crashing on the shore…I will plant flowers in my garden and see musicals on Broadway…I will pretend to love gin and tonics and make creamed chip beef on Christmas morning…I will appreciate art and music and food and books and reach out to those who are hurting and need someone to walk with them in the darkness…I will pour all the love he would have given me into his two precious grandchildren and hope that is enough to span a 28-year gap.

The next few months will be difficult for Robin Williams’ friends and family. They will ask themselves why they weren’t enough for Robin to overcome the depression that made life unbearable. They will think about the times when something was not quite right and wish they had taken more notice of it. They will wonder what they could have done to ease his pain and ordain a different outcome.

I hope they feel the love and sympathy from Robin’s fans all over the world. I hope they understand that Robin did the best he could until he just couldn’t do it anymore. I know they will get through this, as my family and I did, and someday, the grief won’t be as raw, and they’ll remember him without regrets and recriminations.

I will miss him.

Happy Stellaversary!

Three years ago, I made a decision that would change my life: I became an Independent Stylist with Stella & Dot, a boutique-style line of jewelry and accessories sold only online and through private trunk shows. My friend, Christine, invited me to a trunk show in September 2010; I had seen Stella & Dot on blogs and had visited the website, but I hadn’t seen the jewelry in person. I remember walking in Christine’s front door and seeing the table with all the jewelry – it was love at first sight! I bought a necklace and a pair of earrings, and the stylist, Allison, asked me at checkout if I wanted to host a trunk show. Without any hesitation, I said yes!

I took a look book home with me, and as I paged through it, I realized I loved everything I combed the website for information about becoming a stylist, and a week later, I called Allison and told her I wanted to sign up. I had never considered doing anything with direct sales. Like many people, the idea of a “home party” conjured up images of women sitting in a circle, burping plastic containers, and it just didn’t appeal to me. But Stella & Dot’s merchandise was so irresistible I wanted it all, and the only way I could do that was to be a rep for the company (after all, I had to buy samples for my business!)

At the time, I was teaching second grade and taking care of my mom, who had stage IV ovarian cancer, and I just wanted to do something fun and social that didn’t have anything to do with children. I had so much fun doing my part-time job that I decided to quit teaching and focus on my career as a stylist, in addition to homeschooling, tutoring, and continuing to take care of my mom. Stella & Dot and my homeschooling job gave me the flexibility a traditional school job didn’t, and when my mom was dying last October, I was able to concentrate on her care without worrying about being away from a classroom.

But Stella & Dot has been more than that for me. It has brought so many people into my life, people I never would have met otherwise. From my fellow stylists, with whom I have become very close, to customers and hostesses who have become friends, to members of the networking group I joined, my life has been enriched beyond anything I hoped for when I joined three years ago. I have done things that I would have thought were impossible, like going to a blog conference and meeting bloggers who are encouraging me to pursue my passion for writing. I also had the opportunity to name a piece of jewelry in the Spring 2013 Collection, so my mom will live forever on the wrists of Stella & Dot stylists and customers all over the world, which makes me very happy.

There are ups and downs in the business, like any job, but joining Stella & Dot is still the best craziest thing I’ve ever done. I’m so grateful to my friends and family who have supported me from my very first trunk show. Nothing makes me happier than to see them wearing their jewelry or carrying one of our bags. I hope they get as much pleasure out of accessorizing with Stella & Dot as I do showing it to them!

So, Happy Stellaversary to me. I can’t wait to see where this company is going, and I am so lucky to be a part of it!

You can read about Stella & Dot’s founders, Jessica Herrin and Blythe Harris, here.

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The Last Time I Felt Like This

The last time I felt like this, my mom shined a flashlight on my throat and declared there were blisters. Perhaps, she wondered aloud, I had strep throat. Well, that would explain why it felt like tiny people with tiny ice skates were doing figure eights on my throat every time I swallowed. Mom drove me to the minor emergency clinic, where I was diagnosed with streptococcal pharyngitis and given a shot in my derriere. I was 40, by the way.

The last time I felt like this, I stayed home from school, and my mom made me tea with honey and fed me warm chicken noodle soup and milkshakes for lunch. I don’t remember having strep throat as a child, but having it as a teacher gave me more sympathy for my students who suffered from it. Strep is not your garden variety sore throat; it hurts like hell and doesn’t go away unless you take antibiotics or get a shot (which is more painful than you might think but does the trick faster than 10 days of pills.)

The last time I felt like this, my mom was here to take care of me, to make sure I went to the doctor and got treatment.

This time, I keep thinking if I just take enough Mucinex and Sinex and Advil, my sore throat will magically disappear. This time, I can’t tell if there are blisters, but it sure feels like the tiny ice skaters are back, slicing their way down my throat.

This time, I feel more sympathy for my mother, who endured painful side effects from the study drug that prolonged her life. Her biggest complaint was about the mouth sores. Sometimes her throat hurt so bad she didn’t want to swallow anything, not even a milkshake. I didn’t have to shine a flashlight to see her blisters – they were visible when she stuck out her tongue, which she often did to elicit sympathy, which I usually gave her. I should have given her so much more.

This time, I cried as I took Coco out for her last walk before bed. I cried because my throat hurt so damn much. I cried because my mother’s throat hurt so damn much for two-and-a-half years, and I didn’t give her the sympathy she deserved. I cried because who was going to shine a flashlight on my throat, tell me I had blisters, and drive me to the clinic for a strep test and a shot? Coco??

There were so many low moments over the last three years, but one of the lowest for me was when my mom and I were staying at a bed and breakfast on Vashon Island in Washington. Something happened overnight that embarrassed her, and she broke down and cried as I comforted her. She was so brave, staring down terminal cancer, but in that moment, I saw a flash of the little girl who needed her mommy to take care of her, and it devastated me. Who takes care of you after your mommy is gone?

My sore throat – strep or not – will heal. It won’t always feel like tiny ice skaters are doing sit spins when I swallow. But I miss my mom. I miss her taking care of me. And I wish I had been more sympathetic when she showed me how bad her mouth sores were. She felt as bad as I do right now all the time. 

Sometimes, the reality of what she went through is so clear, and I ache for her. I ache for the little girl who was sick and sad and didn’t have her mother to comfort her. I ache for the woman who endured excruciating pain so she could spend more time with the grandchildren she’d longed for. I ache for the woman who, with her tender heart, took care of me when I needed her, even though I’m old enough to take care of myself.

A New Normal

Today is literally the first day of the rest of my life.

For the past three years, my mission has been to keep my mom, suffering from a rare, difficult-to-treat, incurable cancer, alive. My mission ended last Friday when she died at the age of 71. Today is the first day in three years that I didn’t have to think about her and how she was doing. Of course, all I did was think about her, but I wasn’t thinking about her disease or how she was feeling or when her next appointment was. I thought about all the ways in which our lives were intertwined and how strange it is not to receive a phone call or text from her with a list of things she wants me to do.

The busy-ness following a death carries you on the first tidal wave of grief. Last week, I wrote my mother’s obituary, chose the flowers for her casket (yellow roses), confirmed the plot at the cemetery  in which she would be buried, and selected hors d’oeuvres for the visitation at the funeral home. I had to decide if we wanted an open or closed casket (closed), whether or not my sister, brother-in-law, and I would ride to the burial in a limo (not), and how many death certificates to order (I settled on 30.) Believe me when I tell you that each and every one of those decisions was pondered, discussed, and analyzed thoroughly before committing the choice to paper. 

The visitation at the funeral home was lovely, with waiters in white jackets passing around glasses of iced tea and water and tomato tarts and salmon cream cheese crepes. The memorial service was moving and captured my mother and her generosity and indomitable will perfectly. My niece wore a darling pink and green, smocked ladybug dress my mom gave her, and my nephew’s outfit had a fire truck on it. My hair looked good, and I wore enough lipstick to last through the reception, at which there were cheese straws. I think she would agree that everything was absolutely perfect.

My sister and her family went back to Seattle yesterday. Now it’s just me and the dog. When I gave Coco her medicine this morning, I realized I didn’t know if she took her heartworm and flea medicine this month – she gets one on the first of the month, the other on the fifteenth – and it hit me: the dog is mine. I am no longer taking care of Coco because my mom is too sick to do it, and I’ll take her back to my mom’s house when she’s feeling better. I am Coco’s person, and she is solely in my care.

On the first day of the rest of my life, I took it easy. I sat in bed, drank coffee, and played Scramble with Friends; I cleaned up the kitchen; I took a nap. I had dinner with friends and came home to a little dog who was happy to see me. I did not call my mom to find out how she was feeling and remind her about my Stella & Dot trunk show tomorrow afternoon. I did not ask her if she’d seen the pictures my sister texted of Luke and Anna Jane in their Halloween costumes. I did not tell her I would bring her Starbucks coffee and a muffin for breakfast in the morning. I won’t be calling her tomorrow night after my trunk show to tell her how it went. My new normal.

I ordered Chinese food for dinner last night. My mom had a hard time finding things she could eat because the drug she was on gave her terrible mouth sores, but she loved the lemon chicken and the hot and sour soup at a place near my condo. The owner always asked about my mom when I picked up the food. Last night, when he took my order, he said, “No lemon chicken tonight?”

“No, not tonight,” I replied. “Not tonight.”

Mom and me

Breaking news: there’s a cool breeze in Houston, Texas!

It has been a cah-RAY-zy week of highs and lows. Right now, I’m on a high! Sitting at the Briar Club, eating Blackened Shrimp Salad (blackened shrimp, kale, fried goat cheese, chick peas, spiced pumpkin seeds, bacon, and some sort of dressing – I don’t know what it was, but who cares??) and a glass – or two! – of white wine. A breeze in Houston at 8:45 p.m. is truly something to celebrate!

I went to a Stella & Dot training this morning and got a peek at the holiday collection coming out on October 1, and it is FAB-ulous! (I’m going to capitalize the syllables I’m emphasizing the rest of this post!) Absolutely gorgeous. There is a necklace, a pair of earrings, and an orange leather mini wallet in my future!!!

It was a tough week. My failure to maintain personal and financial responsibility caught up with me. BUT – I love my family, my friends, and my job(s), so it can’t be all bad! My nephew is walking; my niece wore the adorable Stella & Dot necklace and bracelet I gave her for her birthday and watched Cinderella for the first time – her first real, 80 minute movie; and my mother has been on a study drug and has survived ovarian cancer for 30 months!!!!!

Life is good! 🙂

Blog Hiatus

Wow. I didn’t intend to take such a long break from blogging! It’s almost the end of July, and I have done a lot this summer. Here’s a list, in chronological order (because I am particular):

• saw Bernie
• redecorated my mom’s bedroom
• went to Seattle for Anna Jane’s birthday
• took Anna Jane to the Space Needle for the first time (the start of a birthday tradition with Mom, Pete, Sue, and Luke)
• helped at Anna Jane’s birthday party at Little Gym – so fun to watch her have fun with her friends!
• read Let’s Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson; the chapter on stories from her years in HR alone is worth the read
• read Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn; it’s as good as you’ve heard, although the ending didn’t pack as much of a punch as I anticipated it would
• finally read The Hunger Games so I can discuss it with my homeschool student and/or see the movie with him (still awaiting word on whether his mom will let him read it ;))
• met my friend, Rachela, in San Francisco and drove to Napa for the Fourth of July before we went to Hoopla; it will be hard to top this as the highlight of my summer!
• went to Hoopla!!!!!! (Stella & Dot’s national sales conference – more on that later)
• ordered all of my new samples from the Fall 2012 collection
• went to Spark & Hustle, a conference for women who are small business owners (it was FREEZING in the ballroom!)
• watched Friends with Kids on On Demand; Jennifer Westfeldt wrote, directed, and starred in it; you may remember her from Kissing Jessica Stein, another movie she wrote, directed, and starred in; she is also Jon Hamm’s longtime girlfriend, which is neither here nor there, but a fact
• held 4 trunk shows with 2 more this weekend and many more on the horizon
• started tutoring again

One of the consequences of not blogging for 6 weeks is that I have dozens of posts swirling around in my head, and I’m not quite sure where to begin again. I will try to come to some sort of agreement with myself in the next few days.

It’s good to be posting again!