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Little paper boats
Sep. 15th, 2022 11:16 amSomewhere along the line I conflated the Queen of England with my mom. Not as strange as it probably sounds--my mom was Canadian and the queen was always in the background of my childhood. I grew up seeing Elizabeth's profile on the stamps on birthday cards from my grandparents and the money I spent when I visited them. We went to the Queen Elizabeth Gardens in Vancouver and I saw her in the parade at the opening ceremony of the Commonwealth Games in Edmonton in 1978. I even thought the young queen looked a little like my mom. Her death has pushed me underwater.
No one can really understand this and I know that. I haven't found anyone who is in anything like this position. I've sent out a few little paper boats, hoping for connection, appreciating any acknowledgment of them before they foundered. But I've had to take myself largely off social media, even though it's my usual source of connection, because it's not a place where nuance and context are welcome in a conflicted and complicated situation.
I thought I might finally begin the grieving process over my mom's death when I was in my hometown in July to clean out my parents' house, but I ended up too angry about discovering the secrets they kept from me for that to happen. But wow, with the queen dying, as I told S., the cork is out of the bottle and there's wine all over the damn place.
I had two panic attacks in four days over the weekend, one when I was ordering packing supplies for my parents' house and one when I discovered that I hadn't paid the electric or water on that house since before my trip there. Admittedly, if my bills were being forwarded to my new address like I expected them to be, I would have paid them. Still, it's not something I should have let slide, particularly since the utilities need to be on for the estate sale people to work and the house needs to be empty by October for the cash sale to go through. I might have lost the chance to be out from under the burden of this house with one forgetful action. Luckily, nothing was disconnected, the estate sale people are at the house today and they say they've seen worse, packing materials are delivered or on their way, and a POD is arriving at the house today. This may be managed yet. The grief? That's still in progress.
I don't believe in closure, necessarily, but I do believe that ritual helps. The queen's funeral is early-early Monday morning and I will watch it despite the hour, because I need to say goodbye to my mom and my childhood. This may be the only chance I get.
And then I will stay off the road as much as I can and avoid all unnecessary interaction because I've learned how off the rails I can go with grief and it doesn't help. Eventually I will start sending out little paper boats again and see how many of them can stay afloat long enough to arrive somewhere.
No one can really understand this and I know that. I haven't found anyone who is in anything like this position. I've sent out a few little paper boats, hoping for connection, appreciating any acknowledgment of them before they foundered. But I've had to take myself largely off social media, even though it's my usual source of connection, because it's not a place where nuance and context are welcome in a conflicted and complicated situation.
I thought I might finally begin the grieving process over my mom's death when I was in my hometown in July to clean out my parents' house, but I ended up too angry about discovering the secrets they kept from me for that to happen. But wow, with the queen dying, as I told S., the cork is out of the bottle and there's wine all over the damn place.
I had two panic attacks in four days over the weekend, one when I was ordering packing supplies for my parents' house and one when I discovered that I hadn't paid the electric or water on that house since before my trip there. Admittedly, if my bills were being forwarded to my new address like I expected them to be, I would have paid them. Still, it's not something I should have let slide, particularly since the utilities need to be on for the estate sale people to work and the house needs to be empty by October for the cash sale to go through. I might have lost the chance to be out from under the burden of this house with one forgetful action. Luckily, nothing was disconnected, the estate sale people are at the house today and they say they've seen worse, packing materials are delivered or on their way, and a POD is arriving at the house today. This may be managed yet. The grief? That's still in progress.
I don't believe in closure, necessarily, but I do believe that ritual helps. The queen's funeral is early-early Monday morning and I will watch it despite the hour, because I need to say goodbye to my mom and my childhood. This may be the only chance I get.
And then I will stay off the road as much as I can and avoid all unnecessary interaction because I've learned how off the rails I can go with grief and it doesn't help. Eventually I will start sending out little paper boats again and see how many of them can stay afloat long enough to arrive somewhere.