My heart wasn't in blogging during February. I suppose it was recollection of gloom and grief still too near, only a year behind. I guess there never is grieving lite. I'm thankful it is a path that must be trodden--to sidestep it often enough is to risk losing something beautiful to come.
Yesterday morning the sun gifted water and sky along my usual pathway. The birds did the exact same things they do each early March, in their own unrepeatable fashions. I anticipated Church, its joyful sorrow during Great Lent, also exactly the same yet unrepeatable.
One Sunday a year ago last September, a bitter tinge to the communion wine, the Eucharist--I commented this was strange. October brought shock and downpours as our (now former) priest faced charges. In late February my daughter-in-law called to tell me she was sorry on our behalf about our trouble. A week or so later my son finally told me about theirs.
I watched surface patterns change on I-5 during sun breaks, beneath dungeon cloud walls in heavy traffic, back and forth. I stood, heart sliced, in their kitchen, the nearly full packing box on the floor. The cute dishes, the pretty towels. Their bedroom a wasteland. The sky emptied on my son loading his potted plants, his bike. Childhood friends had offered him a room back in Eugene.
I still see her, long legs, straight hair, tilt of the head, but it is always someone else. I miss our talks in the kitchen. I haven't yet thrown out the gluten-free recipe book she made for Christmas. I used the Crayolas, not in her coloring book, but for a Valentine's Day card sent to my grandson, our daughter's son in New Jersey, my lopsided red heart contrasting an anatomical heart folded up inside. I am lopsided, but I can live with that. I can live with my daughter-in-law having made the exact same choices I once made yet in her own, unrepeatable fashion.
Later this month spring will open and weep and grant its healing, and my daughter-in-law will celebrate another birthday. Only she isn't my daughter-in-law anymore.
One Sunday a year ago last September, a bitter tinge to the communion wine, the Eucharist--I commented this was strange. October brought shock and downpours as our (now former) priest faced charges. In late February my daughter-in-law called to tell me she was sorry on our behalf about our trouble. A week or so later my son finally told me about theirs.
I watched surface patterns change on I-5 during sun breaks, beneath dungeon cloud walls in heavy traffic, back and forth. I stood, heart sliced, in their kitchen, the nearly full packing box on the floor. The cute dishes, the pretty towels. Their bedroom a wasteland. The sky emptied on my son loading his potted plants, his bike. Childhood friends had offered him a room back in Eugene.
I still see her, long legs, straight hair, tilt of the head, but it is always someone else. I miss our talks in the kitchen. I haven't yet thrown out the gluten-free recipe book she made for Christmas. I used the Crayolas, not in her coloring book, but for a Valentine's Day card sent to my grandson, our daughter's son in New Jersey, my lopsided red heart contrasting an anatomical heart folded up inside. I am lopsided, but I can live with that. I can live with my daughter-in-law having made the exact same choices I once made yet in her own, unrepeatable fashion.
Later this month spring will open and weep and grant its healing, and my daughter-in-law will celebrate another birthday. Only she isn't my daughter-in-law anymore.
5 comments:
ex-DiL is still a person..you can still be friends,if discreetly. I'm still friends with most of my ex's family
Nice reflection on how the cycles of life go round and round, but each time it's new.
I wondered about what GZ brings up---is DIL open to a separate friendship?
Maybe not?
Gz, thank you very much for the encouragement. Her personhood is a big deal to me, and yet I'm not living up to that, due to my pain. It still hurts too much to be friendly, even discreetly. I'm sure her heart is open to this, and someday... I just selfishly remain apart from her, except for prayers, for now.
Fresca, I'm glad the cycle concept came through. My daughter has noted how life is more a spiral than a circle, and I like that.
Dear Deanna, I agree with your daughter that life is truly a spiral and we climb and down it and round and round as we journey toward a future that is Mystery. You've met your daughter-in-law in this life once and again and now you feel unable to approach her. Perhaps, on this spiral the two of you will meet again, your hearts healed from the wounds of what happened. And perhaps you will find a relationship that is not mother-in-law, daughter-in-law, but simply "friend." If that manifests itself then it will be a gift from the Holy Oneness of All Creation, of which you are both a part. Peace.
Dee, that's very well said. I will hold a tender hope for our future friendship.
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