The Cake Knife

Her First Birthday. No More Time. Dream Without Plans. Therapist Advice. Work Over Ideas. My Go To. Curiosity Over Fear. Poppies, trees, cartwheels, and losing things that aren't lost...

I’m hiding at Dandy Lion coffee shop because I need space and need to be alone but he’s always home and I love him but ya know. I’m wondering if my upset stomach (that hurts like my mom’s did) can withstand more coffee before I rush back to the kids school to help with the talent show auditions. I am doing so much I don’t want to do these days, saying yes to things that feel wrong in my gut, staying busy to avoid feeling sad. But the sadness bursts out as outbursts throughout the day, finding crevices of time to seep into, like water through rocks. So I walked here, to thank the trees -

- and breathe, and to get “my steps”, like my mom liked to do. With her. For her. I just sneezed and the guy next to me didn’t say “bless you”. I wish I could tell my mom this so we could roll our eyes at how rude he is and talk about other things that don’t matter…

I wish I could show her our first poppy that bloomed just in time for her birthday! What joy. This grief shit is impossible without community, but I would also add it’s unbearable without nature, movement or laughter. This poppy is right. on. time.

Last night the girls jumped on the trampoline, shrieking with delight as the water hose blasted them from below, as Saxon yelled at the Nuggets for losing and I baked banana bread (because my mom refused to allow food to waste and it was time with those black bananas!). I also made my lasagna. The kind my mother loved. The kind I made for her when she was alive.

She would be 72 today, if time and age mattered anymore. I let the girls sleep in late this morning because it’s Grammy’s birthday and mommy is going to be sad like she was on Mother’s Day. “We know mommy.” (I spent Mother’s Day sobbing in the restroom at the live Bluey show, so…)

This morning, both girls quietly crawled into my bed when the light came in through the blinds, combing my hair with their little fingers, squishing my face. Loving on me. I was looking for something I couldn’t find in my dreams, so I was grateful to be woken up, until I remembered the date.

I feel dread around all the logistics more than ever. This retreat I’m going on, where I can’t be online or my phone for 6 days at Tara Mandala to Feed my Demons, will be a welcome break from the monotony and grind, although I think I might be trying to spiritually over-achieve with this one. Will keep you posted!

I was in a panic late into the night last night, as Saxon ate the lasagna and I got more tired, more hungry, more anxious about today, looking for all the lost things I haven’t lost. Is it hormones, grief, hunger, exhaustion, genocide, money, the mess? Check here for all of the above. And. I was finally going through boxes from the garage after we had the the whole house repainted during our Philippines trip.

The Philippines 

Philippinos are the kindest, most joyful, loving and calm people I’ve met. They aren’t motivated by envy, suspicion or greed. It’s too hot to worry about stuff they can’t control, so they just don’t. And they sing everywhere. Karaoke was made for them! Everyone sings. It’s like they really figured out the faith/love/God/joy/family thing. They take it slow and easy, the coconut trees and mangoes intertwine without anyone having to garden or do anything. Life is not about being productive, it’s about being together. They live with the earth, there are starfish and sea urchins and bright yellow fish swimming with us in the warm ocean, and I wish we could live there. Can we? Or Africa? Anywhere but here because maybe if we move I can move away from this feeling?

It was a beautiful memorial trip for my mom, thanks to Uncle Fritz for being the best tour guide ever, hosting us for two weeks, driving us everywhere, exploring the land, the oceans, the different islands. What a gift of a lifetime. We swam everyday. We shot a lot of footage too! Thank you to Fritz for hiking with us to the top of Osmena Peak, where my mom wanted to hike once she was done with chemo. When we got to the top we found a place to let her ashes go, the girls surprised me. They wanted to let her go, and they weren’t bothered when a little ash got onto them from the wind changing course.

They were all in. No complaining. It was a surprise. And the wind whipped up fast as soon as they put their little arms in the sky. She wanted to be let go. My dad and I said goodbye to her. We all did. I felt a shift after that hike, walking slowly back down the mountain, maybe a little lighter, maybe relieved, maybe ready to imagine what the next chapter looks like? And now…what do you do with an empty urn? 

I can’t think of something I like less than going through boxes. They are all my memory boxes. They all have pictures of my mom in them, so I get sidetracked, on to a new decorating project. I set up my easel but only Seylah painted last night. I keep not doing the things that bring me joy. It feels like I will forget her if I do.

My new therapist said it’s time to do things my mom loved to do, things we loved doing together, instead of doing things that hurt myself in order to keep her memory alive. So, what should I do today to honor her? To honor my love for her? What do I actually want to do today? Any day? I only just began asking myself that question again since she passed. And. What a gift to be able to decide! To be alive!

It’s already summer here even though it’s spring. We can’t be on time to anything. I’m over this whole time thing, can you tell? I didn’t lose my mother, she died. Her body is gone, in the wind, in the rivers…missing her is like always losing something that’s not lost. But I can’t stop looking for it. A blurry dream of time going slowly and fast at the same time. I keep thinking it’s a different month, a different year. I spent 2 hours last night looking for my Quan Yin statuette that my mom had with her at the hospital. The one I’ve had with me since I married myself when I was 33 at my own commitment ceremony (omg that’s a story for another time, but thanks to my parents for being so supportive during that phase, yikes!). 

Without Time

Time floats up and down, wraps around me like a parachute the kids play with at PE. Without time, I don’t think about my age or my neck jowls. I do what feels good. Without time, I don’t have to worry that I’m still so so sad about my mom. I don’t have to keep track of my MRI’s and mammograms every 6 months because I have “dense breasts” and cancer runs in my family. I don’t have to care if I don’t respond on time to all the things from people who keep forgetting about my mom and have more time. I don’t think about how unfair it is to be at the museum, the playground, the botanic gardens, with all the grandparents helping out. All the grandmas taking their grandkids to lunch. It’s just not fair, as the kids would say. Speaking of kids…

Yesterday I taught an Unsent workshop for teens with Field Academy at Rise Up Community School, where I kept reminding them to pay attention and LOOK UP (no jowls)!

We wrote letters to our phones, our favorite outfits, our favorite musical artists. We wrote apologies, we did improv games, and played telephone. I hope they had as much fun as I did. My mom was with us. She worked with and loved teenagers so much. Maybe not me when I was a teen ha! This is how I hope to continue showing up with her and for her: finding the things she loved and doing those things. Repeat.

And. I wish she was at Nya’s 6th birthday party. I could have used her help, her laugh, her thoughtfulness around gifts and organizing. She was a producer at heart. 

Knife Play 

So I had a moment - holding the cake knife with gloves on - I just froze.

I forgot what to do. I didn’t want to do it. I lost my words. Nya didn’t want us to sing, but she wanted the candles lit. No one knew what to do, everyone looking at me. This is after I forgot the knife in the first place, with all the kids jumping all around the cake, yelling out which piece they wanted, touching it, whining. I lost it. Thank goodness for the mamma friends who saw me standing there frozen with the cake knife in my hand and took over. In that moment it became clear that these things aren’t as fun without her and she will never come back. The longer this goes on, the realer it is. I am still not finding the beauty in it, except to remember to laugh at moments like these. I need to keep asking my friends for help before I freeze. 

My Go To

And I need to thank Jaja (Angel), Saxon’s mom, who hosts all these big ass parties, and who said she will be my “go to” now that my mom and Nancy can’t be. “I’ll be your go to.” And I burst into tears. She knows what it feels like to lose your mom, to lose so many loved ones. I love her.

Back to today, my mom’s first birthday where she won’t get a year older. I think of her mother, and her mother, and her mother, and how we don’t know our ancestors, but I’m pretty sure they were orcas and trees. The next big day in this year of firsts will be July 13th, the day she passed. But time is just a construct!

A few things my mom would like that I’ve learned over the past few months:

Work Over Idea: My dear friend and EP was listening to all my ideas for writing projects and how to shape this and how to package this content since I got into Lit Fest advanced workshops and I’m in frenzied prep mode. She just calmly said, “put your best foot forward and put the work over the idea.” This helped me stay present, so I offer it to you. There is no way around the work, and the shapes will reveal themselves through that work. Just keep showing up.

Dream Without A Plan: My new therapist said it’s time to do some narrative therapy. My homework is to imagine what it feels like next year - next summer - in my ideal scenario. I immediately started planning and plotting. But it’s not allowed here. Nothing is impossible in this dreamscape because I don’t have to plan it, organize it or produce it. I don’t have to make it happen, I can just dream about the house made of glass in the jungle by the beach with our own commune farm. I can dream about finally doing that cartwheel. I can imagine the book being written with my friends near by, the girls being happy and healthy and somehow us all loving home school. I can imagine Saxon and I making music together and opening our marriage without jealousy and feeling calm and embracing pleasure and spontaneity. What an absolute challenge. I’m here for it. 

The Importance of Wonder

I’m listening to Martin Prechtel’s Lecture Series (high recommend) and there is too much wisdom to even try to share here, but I’ll just say he reminded me that wonder is at the root of it all. This culture tries to steal our wonder, and once that happens, we get sick, and then we need their medicines to make us better. So if we can keep tapping into the wonder - if we can stay curious more than fearful - of our world, ourselves and each other - it makes for a better life. And since this life is fleeting and short and impossibly beautiful, I wish you a life full of wonder.

Ok. Back to the bathroom and then the talent show rehearsals and then to Grief Yoga. I will be late to all of it. 

Get ready for lots of summer writing from me! Summer is my writing season, so I’m going with this flow. My next Overflows will consist of: 

-Cringy outtakes of my various bios and query letters as I apply for all these writing things. Oh my.

-My Therapy Intake Form - aka all my answers to “what brings you to therapy now?” Spoiler alert: I ran out of room with my answers! I’ll also include my answers to the Anxiety and Depression tests. Spoiler alert: I scored moderate for both. Duh!

Until then - love, boom, poppies, cartwheels and trees. Happy Birthday, mom. I love you. 

B’s

PS - The Kindergarten talent show rehearsal was a dream! I jumped in and choreographed a dance with them on the spot (just like in my dreams for real) and we had fun twirling and singing and finding it together. It energized me. Movement and laughter.

And Grief Yoga was so nourishing. The journal prompt was: “Think of a time something didn’t go according to plan. How did you react? What lessons did you learn?”

Answer: Um, nothing does. I always take action before I check in with myself. I get busy. I help everyone. Then I break. I learn to slow down and give in. To reach out. To accept. Repeat.

Now it’s sprinkling that lovely spring rain so I don’t have to water the plants I didn’t plant yet. I’m skipping boot camp to rest. It takes everything not to do everything. I’m alone in the house for one hour since I signed them up for a cooking class and he’s at a movie. I am cherishing my couch time. I highly recommend it.

PPS - Denver: Save the date for Unsent Show: Sex Edition on Sat Sept 21st at Town Hall. Tickets on sale soon!