How long
can I lament
with this depressed
heart and soul

how long
can I remain
a sad autumn
ever since my grief
has shed my leaves

the entire space
of my soul
is burning in agony

how long can I
hide the flames
wanting to rise
out of this fire

how long can one suffer
the pain of hatred
of another human
a friend behaving like an enemy

with a broken heart
how much more
can I take the message
from body to soul

I believe in love
I swear by love
believe me my love

how long
like a prisoner of grief
can I beg for mercy

you know I'm not
a piece of rock or steel
but hearing my story
even water will become
as tense as a stone

if I can only recount
the story of my life
right out of my body
flames will grow

 --Jalal ed-Din Rumi

My mother died last weekend and we believe it was suicide. She was 54 years old. She was the saddest person I've ever known and now I believe she is blissfully in the arms of the Divine (whatever the Divine actually is).

I think I will be chronicling this experience I'm having in my blog so that friends and family can keep posted on how things are progressing and I won't have to speak it over and over again. I also think I need to process what will likely be one of the most difficult experiences of my life through writing, because that's what I do. I think I want a record of this experience, too. Something to go back to over time as I process the immensity of this loss, which could take months or years to fully process from what I hear from others who have lost a parent. 

I was not as present for my mother's life as I could have been. I need to be fully present for her death and my experience of it.

I am writing from the Las Vegas airport right now, waiting for my sister's flight to arrive. F*ck, she just called to say she missed her connection due to a late departure from NYC and won't be here for another three hours. I'm stuck in the baggage claim area till she arrives. Now we won't have time to get to the County Administrator's office to get mom's personal items and apartment key tonight, or to the coroner's office to identify the body, two things we wanted to accomplish immediately. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Nearly everything about this seems to be going wrong.

We don't know exactly when or how she died. All we know is that she left work early on Friday not feeling well (she had multiple health issues, but nothing that could have killed her that we're aware of). A neighbor saw her walking through the breezeway of her apartments crying about 9:30 Friday night. She didn't arive to work on Monday morning so they reported her missing. They found her in her bed, no signs of anything. The coroner catalogued the medications and said everything seemed normal, but when he read the names to my sister she felt there was likely something missing. Mom has had pretty serious painkillers on hand for many years and they weren't in the coroner's list.

I found out Monday afternoon at work. My ex told me over the phone so I could come home immediately after the coroner called our house. I nearly had a panic attack in those first moments, but fortunately I knew how to breathe myself through it. It took hours before we heard from the coroner again to find out details. I just had to sit with knowing she was gone and having no idea how or why or when and it was very hard.

My inner administrator took over while I was in shock so that I could get some necessary business done. I have so much responsibility right now to Pride and the Society. We are on the verge of events for both organizations and now I don't know how present I can/will be to the details like I usually am. It'll be interesting to see how much I allow myself to let go and just be in my grief....once the business of death is done. Right now it's a lot more about getting things done, with just a few tears and moments of deep introspection in between.

We won't know how she died for at least 6 weeks. The coroner could find nothing conclusive in the autopsy and a tox screen takes 6-8 weeks (not like tv  makes you think at all!). What this means is that we won't have a death certificate, so we cannot handle most of the business details that need to be addressed....bank accounts, creditors, etc. I think all that we can do is clean out her apartment (a monumental task in itself, both physically and emotionally) and I'll be driving her car home since it was recently paid off.

The drive from Vegas to Humboldt is about 14 hours. My mother's car doesn't have air conditioning. Flying from LA to Vegas this morning, as I looked out the window I was struck by the desolation of the desert. I am not looking forward to driving through it by myself in the heat with my mother's belongings...and probably her ashes, too. I already feel very lonely right now. The drive through barren land is daunting.

If it was a suicide, there will be no life insurance. My sister and I are already going into debt just getting here and they are telling us to hire an estate lawyer to handle everything once the death certificate comes through. How the hell are we supposed to afford a lawyer?

My laptop battery is about to go dead and I'm not finding any seats with plugs nearby. I'll probably write more tonight from the hotel unless I find a better situation here.

I am incredibly blessed with friendship right now. I do believe the Universe has been conspiring on my behalf these last few months to be sure I have a support network of love to support me as I process this grief.

I had to get some errands done yesterday in preparation for traveling and didn't feel like I could drive (my eyes were so swollen and irritated from all the crying the night before) or face the world by myself. So I asked a new but very special friend if he would drive me around town.

You have to understand that I am not accustommed to asking for help in any way whatsoever. I have done most of the hard things in my life completely alone. I was a single mother for 10 years with very little support from family or friends. Even when I was married I still did most things on my own. I carried the weight of providing/caring for my family on my shoulders alone for most of the marriage. I've gotten used to be on my own, especially dealing with the hard things in life independently. It's a new experience for me to ask for help/support. It's a new experience to know that help/support even exists for me.

So my friend ran me around town and took me to lunch. We had some great conversations about what I'm experiencing. I can process things at every level with him and he understands. He also has some evolved perspectives, helping me not to make too many judgments about my mother or the family's response to her the last few years. He's a good influence in my life. I feel like I asked for something that might have been too much for a friendship that is only a couple weeks old, but he came through. The Universe has given me quite a gift in him.

Then I decided to call on my tribe to keep me company through the evening. The other option was hiding out in the cave of my bedroom by myself, which I didn't feel would be good for me. I had a meeting scheduled with my partners, so we changed it to a hold-space-for-April dinner gathering and invited other tribemates. My seven closest friends spent the evening feeding me, touching and massaging me, loving me, listening to me, and even making me laugh. There was some intense truth telling, too, both about my mom and her life, and my own choices and the opportunities for healing that exist.

It may be the closest thing to a memorial that will happen in response to my mother's death. There is no one to invite to a memorial. All she had was my sister, me, the kids and her stepsister, who cannot travel due to a back injury. We know she wanted her remains to be put in the same location as her mother's, which we won't be able to do right away since it's in San Diego and we're not even sure exactly where (it's shocking how many things we don't know, but that's another post).

I just can't even put into the words the immensity of my gratitude for my tribemates, these souls who would hold space for me on one of the most painful days of my life.

These days in Las Vegas will be hard. But I have the comfort of knowing that I have a family to come home to. A family that gives me the kind of selfless love and presence that my mother never quite seemed capable of.

Today began with an 8 a.m. appointment at the funeral home. It was the first moment my sister and I cried simultaneously since we've been together. We have a strange relationship. There are ways we close and ways that we are very far away. It's not by my choice. I just don't know how to bridge the distance that has grown over the years for reasons I don't even fully understand. Maybe it's the physical distance, being on opposite coasts, and having lives that are so incredibly different. Maybe it's the different ways we've adjusted to life in our family. I just know that even though we are going through this together, I still feel very much alone. Even as I write this, she is crying in the shower. Funny that even though we're so different, we're also so much the same. The shower is my sanctuary, too,  for emotion when there are people around I don't want to share it with. And there's something comforting about the water.

The funeral director was very kind, exactly as someone in her position should be I suppose. The limbo we're experiencing is extending to mom's remains because we cannot afford the cremation. We are asking social services to pay for it, which will take several weeks. Her body should arrive at one of our homes shortly before we learn the toxicology results.

There are so many questions in my mind about whether it was really a suicide or whether she had something going on physically that the doctors didn't find because they blew her off.  When going through her papers we learned she went to the emergency room on Friday night due to fainting spells. They sent her home with some information about fainting spells and remarks about her substance abuse (her latest addiction was narcotic pain medications). In her personal belongings we found a money order for the rent, purchased on Thursday. Why would she prepare to pay her rent if she planned to die?
And I think she was the kind of person who would write a letter, at least to us. But we haven't found anything. It sucks to have this huge question looming and know that I won't have any answers for at least 6 weeks, probabably 8 or more.

We believe it was suicide for many reasons, the cause of death being undeterminable by autopsy only being one. She has always been unstable and was suicidal many times in the past.  We learned from our step-aunt that our mother called her periodically with unstoppable tears. She was seen Friday or Saturday night by a maintenance person crying. The new physical condition she had was causing her tremendous stress, physically and emotionally. She had a strange skin condition that manifested in big sores all over her body, including her scalp which prompted her to shave her head and wear wigs. We learned the week before her death, in an email from her, that a psychiatrist had told her it was caused by stress and prescribed her an anti-psychotic (he told her it was anti-anxiety, but my sister the art therapist knew better as soon as she saw the name) because she believed she had worms coming out of all parts of her body, both the sores and other places like her mouth, fingers and toes. The medication was supposed to lessen the anxiety that caused her to pick at the sores and imagine the worms. The sores on her face were so bad that she said she could no longer completely cover them with bandages. Finances were forcing her to work, teaching first graders. She felt like a monster and didn't know how she could deal with her kids' reactions.  We also learned today that her principal had told her last week that she could be fired due to her absences and less-than-optimal performance that were caused by her health issues (I bet that woman feels like a real creep now).

After the funeral home we went to the County Administrator's office to pick up her personal items so we could get into the apartment. The drive from that office to my mother's apartment were the hardest moments I've experienced since originally hearing the news of her death. It's so bizarre walking into my mother's life when I knew so little about it. I had never visited her here.  It was very sad how the place didn't really look lived in. She never unpacked most of her things, even though she lived there for one or two years. All the walls were bare except for a couple sentimental items in her bedroom associated with my sister and I.

My sister brought one of my mother's journals back to the hotel with us and serendipitously it had the closest thing to a will we've found so far. We think she wrote it before she had gastric bypass surgery a couple of years ago. It specifies what sentimental items she wanted each of us to have, which we're very glad to know.

There is still much to be done. While we made progress on the apartment, it will take at least another full day to sort everything and try to get a charity to come pick it up. We're hoping a pastor we found in her phone will come to get all the books and tapes on Christianity. It seems like it'd be a waste for them not to go somewhere they will be appreciated. We also need to go to her school to pick up personal items, get the car looked at to be sure it's safe to drive back to Eureka, go to the post office to have her mail forwarded, and who knows what  elseI've forgotten in my exhaustion. I feels overwhelming.

I hope I sleep better tonight. I haven't had a full night's sleep since Sunday.

Thank you for listening/witnessing.

Today we made all the phone calls to close accounts, talked to the school district about benefits (we won't know any specifics till we know cause of death), and took care of all of the other business that we could.

Then we went to the school to pick up her personal items. The principal was cold and unfeeling. It was extremely awkward. And now we understand why my mother didn't get along with her at all.

On the other hand, I also now understand that things were not as bad for her here as I originally thought. My mother was loved dearly by her students and other students in the school. The sister of one of her students saw us going into the classroom and asked if we were related to her. When we said yes she just gushed and told us how she cried when she read the announcement earlier in the week. We left with two boxes of my mother's things, mostly gifts and home-made cards she had received from her students.  

The tears started flowing as I approached the car and didn't stop for a good 20 minutes. It was the first really good cry I've had since Monday. I think I am relieved. There is nothing more pure than the love of a young child, which is perhaps part of why my mother was drawn to teaching. Whatever my mom's issues, she was a good teacher. It was her bliss, although she would have preferred working in a private Christian school to a public one. She put all of her heart into her 1st grade students. And they loved her back.

We finished up the day making more progress on the apartment. We threw out at least 10 large trash bags of trash. We've arranged for a charity to pick up all the furniture, clothes, books, craft supplies (that I'm not taking), and other miscellaneous things so they are not wasted. I'm not sure how I'm going to get everything home that we'd like to. Her car isn't very large and there is a lot of albums, pictures, fabric, craft supplies and other things I'd like to take. I guess we'll just do the best we can.

I'm so tired. I'm really worried about making this drive by myself, especially since I want to leave super early Sunday morning to get through the desert before it gets too hot. No air conditioning in the car. Hopefully that's the only thing wrong with it. Mom wasn't so good at caring for cars. I'm a little concerned about driving 900 miles without knowing exactly what condition it's in, but we can't really afford to have it thoroughly checked out after all the money we've spent on travel, death details, etc. I'll get an oil change in the morning and see if they can tell me if I should get a tune up, too. Other than that, I'll be running on hope the whole way home.

p.s. Today I asked for help, which is a significant act for me. I asked a big favor of a friend, someone I wasn't entirely sure it was even appropriate to ask such a big favor from. But she was very happy to come through in any way that I need. I cried tears of relief, and maybe even joy. I am so incredibly loved.

I'm in the hotel, trying to relax. I hardly slept at all last night, so I'm hoping I'll be able to fall asleep early in order to get enough rest before leaving at 4 a.m. This should be my last post before I'm home.

We finished up my mother's apartment and packed the car. My body is so worn out, bruised and scraped. Cleaning out a person's entire life in less than three days is quite an understaking. It was hard to leave the apartment. It was a sort of letting go I wasn't quite prepared for. Once I leave Vegas there will be no more threads between myself and my mother's life here.

And yet, I feel like I am still in shock or something because it doesn't seem real yet. I am not having the emotional response that I would expect. This is the greatest loss I've ever known and yet I've cried far fewer tears than I have for lost lovers. Am I still in shock? Am I repressing my feelings to get all the mundane details taken care of? Will it hit me on the road, when I have time to think, or when I get home? Will it hit when I start cleaning out the car and really looking at all the pieces of her life that I brought home (photo albums, journals, etc.).

I did receive an amazing and extremely supportive note from a new friend today, a reminder that I have so much love waiting for me at home, even from unexpected places.

We also got the one and only phone call that was what it should have been, an honoring of my mother's life and her place in the life of the caller. And it was from someone we would have never expected....my dad's brother's ex-wife. Everyone we've spoken to...our dad, our uncle, our step-aunt...has talked about us and the details of arrangements, but not really about my mother. However, this aunt fof ours, whom we haven't seen in years, talked to us about our mother...the last time they saw each other, how proud she was of my mother's accomplishments in recent years. She reminded me how strong and courageous my mom really was. When I have time more time and headspace to write, I'll talk about her life with a more balanced perspective than I have in the past. Now I need to figure out what routes I'm driving home and try to get to sleep.

I started this the night I got home but was so exhausted I couldn't finish it. I've just now had time and headspace to do so...

It was a 15 hour trip before I made it home safe and sound. Or as close to sound as I could be under the circumstances. It was an incredibly difficult drive at some points (including a near panic attack on a bridge and a needed release of tears while hearing my daughter's comforting voice), easy in others. As to be expected I suppose. I imagine the next four months (at least) of my life will be this way. It will take until the end of this year (at least ) to see any resolution to this loss. First, the ashes will arrive in 4+ weeks because we're asking social services to pay for it. Then the death certificate will arrive (or the coroner phone call, I'm not sure which) that tells us how mom died (suicide, accidental overdose or natural causes?) in 8+ weeks. Then the finalization of business that cannot be done without an official death certificate. And then the process of taking her remains to where she would want them to be...

We've decided that at Christmastime, both my sister and my son will fly out to Eureka and join my daughter and I for a road trip to Northfork and San Diego (CA) to bury half my mother with her father and half with her mother. It will also be an opportunity to share a significant aspect of our past with the next generations (our grandfather was our most intimate grandparent and his home a significantly positive aspect of our troubled childhood), as well as see family we haven't seen in many years (my father's family--who is my adopted family--lives in San Diego as well and I haven't seen any of them in over 10 years). I have nieces and a nephew I've never met.

Anyway, I was happy to be home, to hug my children and start settling back into my own life. I've already written of the blessings of having family to come home to. I have been well nurtured the last few days.

I'm finding I'm not hurting like I think I should be. I haven't even cried since I've been home. Am I still in some sort of shock? Am I in denial? It's unsettling to me. I process all my big emotions through tears. But I'm not feeling much at all, other than dazed and exhausted (and I'm having my moon, which would normally amplify my feelings). I have spent some time in bed, spacing out....a sort of numb-depressed I guess. I'm having a hard time concentrating on anything and adjusting to being back at work. I've taken all the time off I can afford but I'm not really feeling functional enough to leap into the new job.

I'm also contemplating the strangeness of life insurance policies. They are a significant gift at a very difficult time in one's life. How is a person supposed to feel about that, especially if it's an amount large enough to alter one's life in a significant way? How does one experience gratitude without feeling as though they are feeling good about the loss that brought the gift?

Death is so frickin' complicated. So much to process.

And my son is moving away from home next week.

The changes just aren't going to stop for awhile longer, but I'm so tired.

This morning I discovered this lovely and humbling example of how wonderful my tribemates are...

Inspired by a Conspiracy

I've known Deborah longer than any other friend in my life. She was my first girlfriend and spoke to my daughter while she was in the womb. We've been in and out of each other's lives ever since, but always, always connected by a thread of love and appreciation for the different ways our journeys evolved. We have in common a desire to evolve consciously. She has been a catalyst for growth and expansion in me on many occasions and at many levels. She has been an inspiration to me as well. She seems to embody her bigness so easily. It brings me great joy to hear how I have touched her life. There is no greater bliss for me than to serve others in their evolution towards their Divine Light.

And Deborah has given me a gift in her blog post, a mirror of my own Divine Light. Her recognition that I am living an "ordinary life in an extraordinary way" is exactly the kind of perspective I need right now. My mother is responsible for my desire...my need...to make extraordinary choices. I believe what makes people extraordinary are their manifestations of their unique Divine Light the world. Deborah is extraordinary in her unique combination of mystic and pervert, and her willingness and courage to share her passion for both with the world in very public ways. I am extraordinary in how my own wounding leads me to facilitate healing in others through acts of service, whether to my children or to my local community through involvements like The Impropriety Society.

You want to give me a life-affirming gift? Tell me how you are extraordinary and how are you gifting it to the world. We don't speak out loud of our own extraordinariness enough.

As to my bravery, I have come to understand that my bravery is a subtler and more emotional kind of bravery than the ones we see manifested and rewarded in the world. My courage is the kind that doesn't recieve much recognition or applause. Mine is the 24 hour a day/365 days a year bravery of being a single working mother (or carrying the entire weight of a family while "partnered"). Mine is the courage of willfully overcoming mental illness and multiple traumas through out childhood and young adulthood (the kinds of traumas that break many people, like my mother, for good) so my children wouldn't inherit the legacy wounding in our family. Mine is the courage of stepping out of the shadows of serving from behind-the-scenes and into leadership of two community organizations that challenge the status quo.

It's good to be witnessed, to be recognized for the best of who we are. I am grateful for friends who see me.

Yesterday, my first day home from Las Vegas, I received four different gifts from friends. Two are too personal for the blog, but significant. One I asked for, one was offered spontaneously. The third was a massage, which I asked for. It occurred me to on the drive back, as I felt my shoulder and neck muscles hardening by the hour, that I have a dear friend who is a massage therapist. I knew if I asked, she would be happy to give. Asking is significant because it's a new kind of knowing for me--to trust that people love me and want to give to me the same way that I want to give to them. My deepest issue is a feeling of unlovability and being insignificant. I have had a lot of love in certain phases of my life over the years, but I wasn't always able to see it when it was there. Now I have more love than ever and I can see, accept and be grateful for it. The last gift was a meal and a few hours company so that I didn't have to be alone. We made homemade mac & cheese (six different cheeses + bacon!) and a salad with greens and herbs fresh from her garden. It was scrumptious comfort food.

I felt nurtured, cherished...the kinds of feelings that I'm supposed to get from my mother. I guess that's what I'm seeking out and the Universe is responding to, different ways of being mothered at the moment I have truly become a motherless daughter. How is it that the Universe gave me a tribe of women to mother me just in time to deal with this loss? How do I not tremble with the immense gratitude I feel for this gift and for my own ability to finally manifest the deepest desires of my heart?

Today I feel strong enough not to need to be with someone every moment that I can. I feel held, by many, even when they are not with me. If I feel up to it tonight, I'll go to a social gathering where many tribemates will be. I know the fullness of my grief has not surfaced yet. But I am honoring where I am in the moment and accepting all of the love that the Universe is offering as it comes so that it will carry me through the darkest places when I am tempted to feel most alone. I know those moments are coming and that I am strong enough to not only meet them, but evolve through them into an even brighter version of my Divine Light.

I have lost my mother (and sadly feel even more distant from my sister and father than ever).  But I have gained a family that seems to just keep growing. The most life affirming thing I can do is invest everything I can in nurturing those relationships.

The Universe is really challenging me to live in integrity with my belief in pronoia--the idea that the Universe is a benevolent place conspiring to shower me with blessings. I can't see the blessings right now, no matter how hard I try.

I haven't written in two weeks because....

I spent the week following my return from Las Vegas grieving, hanging out with friends, trying to return to work (only successfully managed 2 half days), and getting caught up on Pride business (the festival is in three weeks and I can't back out of my responsibilities).

Then I went camping for a weekend. I wanted to get away from everyone and everything and give myself space to really feel everything, as well as nurture my soul by spending some time in the river. So I went to camp with my friend Donny (the only Gaian I've had the fortune of meeting in person). He's great at holding space for me to just be whatever I need to be in the moment. And it was good to be able to process with someone who is also on the conscious path. It was actually an incredibly beautiful weekend for many reasons. Until Sunday morning, when I accidentally picked up a twig for the campfire that must have been poison oak. It started on my eyes and has become systemic (meaning it's in my blood system) and spread all over. I missed an entire week of work (which means I've lost considerable income for September, on top of the week of income I lost on this last paycheck due to my need for grieving time and the money I spent on going to Las Vegas and my son's plane ticket to college...we are now behind on our rent, even after taking a loan from a friend). After starting a second round of steroids it's finally calming down/healing. Except that somehow I reinfected my eyes and lips today. I had to come home from work early to rewash myself everything I've touched in the last 24 hours. The new outbreaks don't get as bad as the initial ones, no swelling, just lots of itching. But that kind of irritation around the eyes and lips is quite uncomfortable. It's cost me so much money in doctor visits, prescriptions and over the counter cleansers and anti-itch remedies. So not only am I suffering through this emotional and physical torment, I'm really stressed about money and the challenges keep coming.

You can see why I'm having a hard time believing the Universe is conspiring to shower me with blessings or seeing the deeper meaning in it all. I haven't even been able to spend time with my friends this last week because of my physical discomfort (and I look like hell), so I don't even have the blessings I had the two weeks previous to balance things out.

I know I'm strong. I'm functioning pretty well for what I'm enduring, although the house is a mess and I'm having a hard time staying on top of life business. And I'm not descending into despair, although I am having regular crying sessions because the steroids have my emotions out of whack (occassional shaking, anxiety, and head spinning are all part of the fun, too).  But I have no joy. I can't lift myself to a positive place about anything. I can't find the deeper meaning in why I must be challenged this much in such a short time. How much more can I bear before I fall apart? Is there more to come? I feel like Job in the Bible, like I'm being put through a test to see just how much I can take at this place in my evolution. Will I be pushed until I break? Can I be broken?