One of the positive about moving to central office from the classroom has been getting to know some neat people. There is one gal I work with whom I met 17 years ago when I was getting certified to teach in the Teachers For Alaska program. After all the years and very different pathways we ended up in the same office. Our kids are pretty much the same age, and it turns out that we get along pretty well. Team teaching and presenting with her is always a blast because although we're incredibly different - she's math, I'm English; she's quiet, I'm not - we balance each other out and share core beliefs about teaching, parenting, and human decency. I feel fortunate to work with her and become her friend.
Last Sunday was a Celebration of Life for her mother, who passed away about a year ago, and who lived and taught in Fairbanks for many years. Although I didn't know her mom, she must have been pretty awesome because she raised two strong, capable girls and impacted so many people with her teaching. I really appreciated the Celebration. It seemed a good balance of memory and celebration, family and friends, mourning and looking forward. Her mom's favorite cake was a chocolate zucchini cake, so a friend and I each made a bunch so folks could take one home in memory. I thought it was pretty cool and I was flattered to get to be a part of it.
Despite my appreciation for the event, I can't help but wonder about how I'll survive my own mother's passing. I know that life is 100% fatal - none of us make it out alive - but I can't start to fathom what I'll do or how. When my dad passed, there were so many bittersweet issues. It was just different. My grammie dying about did me in. There are still times when I find myself thinking I need to call one of them to share something and then realizing I can't. What will I do when I'm not able to call my mom to ask her the name of the cook in Bonanza or to share a joke or complain about my husband?
I don't feel morbid or depressed about all of this. It's more a matter of wonder. How does one prepare for the inevitable? Especially knowing that accepting reality is nothing like coming to grips with reality? I know I have a long time to make sense of this, but it's all just a little bit creepy and strange. I don't like thinking about it and I don't like that thinking about it trips me out.
It just occurred to me that my mom might read this darn blog, and I probably shouldn't be writing about this. Isn't that a strange turn of events? I start a blog to ramble on, my mom finds out I have a blog, and then I blog about my mom who reads the blog. What a tangled web....
But since this noise is for me to make sense of things, I shall persevere. I'll keep writing while being optimistic that life is good, all is well, my family is healthy and we'll all be here awhile. And if that optimism doesn't work I'll take a xanax and have a glass of wine. Denial and cabernet colored glasses can take you pretty far.
Last Sunday was a Celebration of Life for her mother, who passed away about a year ago, and who lived and taught in Fairbanks for many years. Although I didn't know her mom, she must have been pretty awesome because she raised two strong, capable girls and impacted so many people with her teaching. I really appreciated the Celebration. It seemed a good balance of memory and celebration, family and friends, mourning and looking forward. Her mom's favorite cake was a chocolate zucchini cake, so a friend and I each made a bunch so folks could take one home in memory. I thought it was pretty cool and I was flattered to get to be a part of it.
Despite my appreciation for the event, I can't help but wonder about how I'll survive my own mother's passing. I know that life is 100% fatal - none of us make it out alive - but I can't start to fathom what I'll do or how. When my dad passed, there were so many bittersweet issues. It was just different. My grammie dying about did me in. There are still times when I find myself thinking I need to call one of them to share something and then realizing I can't. What will I do when I'm not able to call my mom to ask her the name of the cook in Bonanza or to share a joke or complain about my husband?
I don't feel morbid or depressed about all of this. It's more a matter of wonder. How does one prepare for the inevitable? Especially knowing that accepting reality is nothing like coming to grips with reality? I know I have a long time to make sense of this, but it's all just a little bit creepy and strange. I don't like thinking about it and I don't like that thinking about it trips me out.
It just occurred to me that my mom might read this darn blog, and I probably shouldn't be writing about this. Isn't that a strange turn of events? I start a blog to ramble on, my mom finds out I have a blog, and then I blog about my mom who reads the blog. What a tangled web....
But since this noise is for me to make sense of things, I shall persevere. I'll keep writing while being optimistic that life is good, all is well, my family is healthy and we'll all be here awhile. And if that optimism doesn't work I'll take a xanax and have a glass of wine. Denial and cabernet colored glasses can take you pretty far.
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