"It is time for you to stop all of your sobbing." - Ray Davies, The Kinks
October has always been a month I cherish. Canadian thanksgiving (a BS holiday) and Oktoberfest (even more of an excuse to get plastered and pretend to be German), parades with hot chocolate and warm blankets, and a few birthdays here and there.
Lately - well, in the last few years - it has become a bitterly sweet time, one of remembrance and solemnity, with a few laughs thrown in. October 2nd marks the anniversary of the day I arrived to start my life in London, and it's safe to say that this has been the most incredible year of my life. London has been a gracious host, giving me the opportunity to immerse myself in its bloodstream of culture and light and vitality, but also allowing me the quiet seclusion I need from time to time in the form of a park or small gallery. I have made some new friends and let some old ones go, but as time passes I know that my home - and my heart - is here, scattered somewhere between the confines of the Central line.
The 5th of October brings the anniversary of Mom's death, three years ago tomorrow. You know, sometimes I can be the happiest, most jovial kid around, and all it takes is one trigger memory and I'm a mess. I had a breakdown last weekend and it fell to my housemates to pick up the pieces. Amidst the hugs and offers of tea, I found some comfort. I mean, I've been on the other side of this, too. I know how hard and frankly, awkward it can be to try to empathize with someone when you don't know what to say or do to try to ease some of their pain. But they did a good job. My best friend (I call him the Frenchman) just let me cry, giving me space by not saying a thing. And when he did speak, it was a whammy. I said some throwaway comment like "I thought it was supposed to get easier," to which he replied, "Well, maybe it never does. But you just try to live with it and move forward."
Maybe he's right. Maybe I'll forever be in limbo when it comes to the emotional rollercoaster that are my thoughts of my mother. Writing this blog helps, to a point. It's nice to know that some of the people she touched are able to learn a little bit more about her through my words. But of course, it won't bring her back to me. And so it goes, me swirling around in memories of the last time I saw her, the last thing I said, the last look she gave me.
Needless to say, I haven't had the best of days today. I got through writing about six sentences in my journal before I lost my shit. There was some howling coming from my room for a good half hour. When I reemerged and went to sit outside in the sun, I was good for about twenty seconds before I had to retreat to my room again and let my eyes and nose leak all over the place while curled up in a fetal position. It wasn't a pretty sight, trust me. Suddenly, a song came into my head, or more specifically, a line: "It is time for you to stop all of your sobbing," sung in the sweet tones of Chrissie Hynde of The Pretenders. Written by Ray Davies for The Kinks' debut album, it was covered by Chrissie (then Ray's girlfriend) and the boys and released by The Pretenders as their first single in 1979 (click here to have a listen).
So, I did.
Lately - well, in the last few years - it has become a bitterly sweet time, one of remembrance and solemnity, with a few laughs thrown in. October 2nd marks the anniversary of the day I arrived to start my life in London, and it's safe to say that this has been the most incredible year of my life. London has been a gracious host, giving me the opportunity to immerse myself in its bloodstream of culture and light and vitality, but also allowing me the quiet seclusion I need from time to time in the form of a park or small gallery. I have made some new friends and let some old ones go, but as time passes I know that my home - and my heart - is here, scattered somewhere between the confines of the Central line.
The 5th of October brings the anniversary of Mom's death, three years ago tomorrow. You know, sometimes I can be the happiest, most jovial kid around, and all it takes is one trigger memory and I'm a mess. I had a breakdown last weekend and it fell to my housemates to pick up the pieces. Amidst the hugs and offers of tea, I found some comfort. I mean, I've been on the other side of this, too. I know how hard and frankly, awkward it can be to try to empathize with someone when you don't know what to say or do to try to ease some of their pain. But they did a good job. My best friend (I call him the Frenchman) just let me cry, giving me space by not saying a thing. And when he did speak, it was a whammy. I said some throwaway comment like "I thought it was supposed to get easier," to which he replied, "Well, maybe it never does. But you just try to live with it and move forward."
Maybe he's right. Maybe I'll forever be in limbo when it comes to the emotional rollercoaster that are my thoughts of my mother. Writing this blog helps, to a point. It's nice to know that some of the people she touched are able to learn a little bit more about her through my words. But of course, it won't bring her back to me. And so it goes, me swirling around in memories of the last time I saw her, the last thing I said, the last look she gave me.
Needless to say, I haven't had the best of days today. I got through writing about six sentences in my journal before I lost my shit. There was some howling coming from my room for a good half hour. When I reemerged and went to sit outside in the sun, I was good for about twenty seconds before I had to retreat to my room again and let my eyes and nose leak all over the place while curled up in a fetal position. It wasn't a pretty sight, trust me. Suddenly, a song came into my head, or more specifically, a line: "It is time for you to stop all of your sobbing," sung in the sweet tones of Chrissie Hynde of The Pretenders. Written by Ray Davies for The Kinks' debut album, it was covered by Chrissie (then Ray's girlfriend) and the boys and released by The Pretenders as their first single in 1979 (click here to have a listen).
So, I did.
Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together.
Boy, was Liz Taylor right.
Instead of spending the rest of my Sunday wallowing in depression, I thought I'd try to think about my memories in a happier way - with a smile. It's amazing how much a smile can change your mood. (Quite literally - apparently the act of smiling actually lowers stress and calms you down, even if you're faking it. Something about the muscles in your face.) I remembered how she used to ask for a "small green tea with milk, bag in" every time we visited her at the hospital, and how cute she sounded when she asked for it. I remembered Saturday afternoons, cozying up to the kitchen counter for "Susan's Soup Bar" where she would give my sister and I soup and a sandwich for lunch. I remembered how she and I would watch TV in her bed, with me nesting in the crook of her knees. (I still tried to do that even when I was wayyyyyy too big.)
I got out of bed, put on one of Mom's lipsticks - Rimmel 'Funtime Fuchsia', which, by the way, still has the curve from her lips in it - and a pair of her necklaces. And it all helped.
Instead of spending the rest of my Sunday wallowing in depression, I thought I'd try to think about my memories in a happier way - with a smile. It's amazing how much a smile can change your mood. (Quite literally - apparently the act of smiling actually lowers stress and calms you down, even if you're faking it. Something about the muscles in your face.) I remembered how she used to ask for a "small green tea with milk, bag in" every time we visited her at the hospital, and how cute she sounded when she asked for it. I remembered Saturday afternoons, cozying up to the kitchen counter for "Susan's Soup Bar" where she would give my sister and I soup and a sandwich for lunch. I remembered how she and I would watch TV in her bed, with me nesting in the crook of her knees. (I still tried to do that even when I was wayyyyyy too big.)
I got out of bed, put on one of Mom's lipsticks - Rimmel 'Funtime Fuchsia', which, by the way, still has the curve from her lips in it - and a pair of her necklaces. And it all helped.
I've also decided to take my housemates out for ice cream later tonight. Because ice cream helps, too. :)
So friends, neighbours, and countrymen, I've written this piece a day in advance of the big day because Mondays are long days for me and God knows I won't want to be doing this after work and meetings and tutoring tomorrow night. I plan to come home and eat some cheese and drink a little wine and relax, chatting to my friends about the woman I knew as my mother - and the woman I am getting to know a little bit better now, with each post.
So friends, neighbours, and countrymen, I've written this piece a day in advance of the big day because Mondays are long days for me and God knows I won't want to be doing this after work and meetings and tutoring tomorrow night. I plan to come home and eat some cheese and drink a little wine and relax, chatting to my friends about the woman I knew as my mother - and the woman I am getting to know a little bit better now, with each post.