Sunday, December 27, 2009

Mama's Mama

I don't always think things through.

In my head, I thought we'd just jet over to the cemetery, leave some lilies, and have a few quiet moments in my head with my mom while the kids were distracted by Dave. I have a 2 and a half year old. This was not to be.

It had been a tough trek to California. (Trust me, once my thoughts are even a bit formed, I will dish.) My heart was a bit raw. I miss my mom all the time, but with the birth of a daughter it is sometimes unbearable. I was trying to push back the tears into their rightful ducts before Dave pointed to the cemetery and asked, "Is that a synagogue?"

Spence had asked repeatedly where we were going. I was at a loss. I finally stuttered out, "To go see Mama's Mama." I want to lie here and say that I had mentioned something about the fact that my mom was no longer living. But, it would be a lie. How do you mention death to a 2 and a half year old? Instead, I sidestep. I talk about my mom, but distract when the inevitable question arises.

When we parked between the two trees (one evergreen, the other deciduous), I bolted out of the car and started to attend to the graves. I brushed aside the bit of crabgrass that had started to cover the date of my mom's death. I tried not to remember how my grandfather would carefully take out polish and shine the grave. As if, as long as the grave looked new, time would not have really passed.

I finally relented to the cries of Spence. I nodded to Dave and he released Nora from the car seat, as I got him.

He held my hand. It was about a minute before he started repeating in increasing louder decibels, "But I don't see her. Where is she? Where is Mama's Mama?" I was stricken. I searched my brain for something that made sense. She's buried? She's no longer here? She's in heaven?

I murffled out something about heaven. About it being high in the sky. I might have thrown in a few paradise-type images, I honestly don't remember.

"I want to go to heaven right now. I want to see mama's mama. I want to go to heaven RIGHT NOW." He must have woken up and pressed his repeat button. I just wanted to hit pause. Just a moment to think. To come up with some sort of response and still have time to release the tears from my ducts.

"Me too, Spence. I want to see mama's mama right now. Me too," I paused. "Should we go get some ice cream?"

11 comments:

Emily said...

You really need a vacation.

This is beautiful and sad...all at the same time.

Kathleen said...

this made me cry.
i feel for your missing-your-parent self, and for your mama-self.

you needed a moment with your mama.
but you had to be a mama first.

if it is possible that your mother could see you, i know she was smiling and proud.

xo hugs to you.

Jess said...

I'm so sorry.

Anonymous said...

Ugh. I wish I could carry some of this sadness for you, Kristy.
Lynn

Anonymous said...

I love you Kristy
-Annalise

Anonymous said...

wow... just a mother of two boys dealing with two passings this year. i just happened to click on "next blog" tonite and came upon this... crying and feeling your pain too. my three yr old just went to his first funeral and wanted to see the angels so he could go to heaven to bring my grandfather and uncle back to play! it's so hard isn't it? thank you for sharing, i feel not so alone now and i am sorry for your loss too. ~ a mom from mn.

Anonymous said...

You have a gift - every thought about publishing this in The Sun?

Papa Bruce said...

Hi - I don't know what to say, your loss is so raw and present. I just want some peace for you. The issue of death for little kids seems so hard - do we imply our own mortality and instill some fear of losing us? No easy answers that's for sure, love you.

Kari Smakoski said...

Sometimes I feel like you are saying so many of the things I feel myself when I think about how my grief continues, but in such different ways for my own mom now that I am one myself. Once your thoughts are a bit formed on your trek back to California, I do hope you will dish.

You are doing good, Kristy.

Jennifer said...

Oh Kristy. I'm don't really know what to say but do want you to know that we love you and think you are an awesome mom. -Jen

Jennifer said...

Oh Kristy, I don't really know what to say but I did want you to know that we love you and think you're an awesome mom. -Jen